I'm sad today.

Today I have to say goodbye to one of my best friends in the world. I've known him for basically my whole life, and we've been really close for the past three years. And now I'm never going to see him again. No more hanging out in the parking lot of Dairy Queen, no more singing at the top of our lungs, no more drives up to the mountains.

I feel like I'm replacing him, and I don't like it.

Just because he wasn't working as well as he used to?


He took care of me. He was always an escape. He always took me away.


Henry was a good car, and I'm going to miss him.

I hope Clarence will be as good as he was.

love always,
jim.

I don't know what I'm going to do: Tell me [s']more about it.

Right now I really have no idea what I am going to do with my life. I'm writing stories for literary journals and I'm considering how I could work after college but I really have no clue.

However, I found this encouraging:

When Sylvester Graham invented the Graham cracker in 1822 he marketed it as some sort of miracle cracker that could cure diseases and greatly boost the immune system. It was the center of a health regimen Graham came up with to suppress "unhealthy carnal urges."

Graham crackers don't really do that.


So I guess what I'm really saying is. . . maybe my writings aren't going to be as great as I would hope, and maybe my career will be mediocre at best.

But I hope that someday somebody will cover it with chocolate and melted marshmallow and think that it is pretty good.

My discovery about college. . .

Those who drink alcohol seem to meet so many more people.




Why can't cherry coke induce a relationship?

today. . .

I find it strange how poetic this night is. It's strange how much things can change, but even when everything is different the songs you listen to, and the books you read, and the movies you watch still mean the exact same thing to you that they did when you first encountered them.

But it's bigger somehow. It's like when you first experience something, you throw a rock into a pond. And the ripples start off small. And they grow and grow and grow. And even by just looking at one ripple, you instantly remember what it was like when you threw the stone into that pond, but it's bigger. It's not just a tiny splash, it's a ripple that is now covering a huge area.

Anyway, today I was looking around, and all I could see was ripples. I remembered all the things that make life wonderful. I remembered all the play productions and choir concerts, the nights at the dairy queen, and the off hours filled with Mario Kart and Aqua. I remembered all the things that make me, me. And it was nice to remember those things today.

It's weird to think that even as I look at these ripples, I'm throwing more rocks into the water.

The story of my life. . .

Once upon a time,
there was a boy named Jim.

One day, it was a Tuesday I believe, Jim arose from bed and went to his visual art class where he was instructed to take a test. This test took thirty minutes. Then Jim was allowed to leave. This meant that on this particular morning Jim got out of class 45 minutes early.

Once Jim returned to his dormitory, he got breakfast, and the woman serving the breakfast said that James was a very nice name. He said "thank you very much," and returned to his room.

Upon arrival to his humble abode, Jim checked his email and received this message from the T.A. of his history class:

CLASS CANCELLED TODAY, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9TH AT 2:00pm.

Jim then commenced to party like a rockstar for the rest of the day.


The End.

re: What?

I was reading old messages, and one was from you. And I remembered when you used to talk to us. That was before you were so far away. It seems so weird that you've cut yourself off from your past. I don't think I could ever do that. Move away and just leave everything and everyone behind. That's crazy. Completely crazy.

I could never do that.

Ever.

No freaking way.

the epistle to the stressed college student.

You are an idiot Jim Taggart.

You chose to study a subject in which there are no wrong answers--a subject that you believed allowed for endless possibilities and differing points of view. English? You thought that it was wonderful how much you could learn about yourself and about the universe from just thinking about things from different angles and from analyzing things in different ways. How much you could gain just from reading others' insights and pondering others' beliefs.

But what you didn't realize was that in a subject in which there are no wrong answers, there are no correct answers either. No matter how much you theorize, analyze, and consider; your opinion is still only an opinion. No matter how much you try and look at something a different way, you still can't find the "right" way. Your answer is just as much
"fluff" as the moron sitting next to you who theorizes that the fog is a metaphor for the downfall of Gregor's career when you clearly know that it is a metaphor for the loss of innocence or the evil of the machine age or any number of things.

But the truth is, in a subject with no answer, there can be no ultimate goal, or ultimate truth, or overall success. You just spend the whole time thinking, theorizing, analyzing, considering, annotating, reading, writing, formatting, studying in order to get nowhere.

In the end, no matter how much you've done all that, the only outlook you have is your perspective. And that perspective is only real to you. Nobody else will see it for what it is.

And your answer will never be right just as much as it will never be wrong.

It isn't an answer. It just an idea. Just a tiny squeak speaking out in a world where tiny squeaks all mix into one massive droning ROAR. A roar in which any individual squeak can't be deciphered from any other.

And you're a part of that, Jim. And you're just now realizing that everything you're striving for will make very little difference in the big picture. That your grades matter very little anymore. That tests don't measure who you are. That "right" answers shouldn't be used to define a person.

You're realizing that maybe all that matters is to be there; to have an 'answer'; to be a squeak within a ROAR; and to do whatever you can to be you.

Because in the end, even if you don't have it all figured out, you're you. And maybe that's the only end-goal that matters:

To speak.
To think.
To wonder.
To love and to be loved.
To eat, and sleep, and dream.

but most of all,

To be.

a change of me.

Hey everybody.

I've been reading some of my notes from over the past couple weeks. And I've noticed that some of them are really depressing and lame. I would delete them, but I don't really like doing that. I don't think I should change how things happen. I might think they are emo and not agree with them, but they were still me.

However, from now on, I want to be better.

I want to be a better friend. I want to be more encouraging. I want to be more positive.

And I want to be happy. and I want those around me to be happy.

Thus, I am changing some things.

First of all,

if there is ever anything you need. Tell me. I'd like to do whatever I can to help.

2nd

I've started a swear jar. I think my potty mouth has been bringing me down. So if you catch me swearing, please remind me that it costs 25 cents.

and 3rd

I want you all to know that I'm crazy about all of you guys. And I'd like to remind you all of that more.

So here is the first time.

You guys are wonderful friends. And I love you all oodles of noodles.



I hope you all have a wonderful day,
jim.

P.S.
It kind of feels like this is over optimistic. But I'm really serious. So if you could all hold me accountable, I'd appreciate it a lot.

2 weeks in

"I've changed," he thought. "I really have."

As he rose from his bed in the dark, the curtains blew from the force of a gentle breeze outside his window; the small sliver of light from under them pulsating on the floor as they swayed in and out. He peaked out from under the curtains and watched the sprinklers attack a dry patch of the lawn outside.

He had changed. No matter how much he believed he could stay the same, he had changed. When he looked back on who he had been, he couldn't help but notice differences: some small--such as his new choice of wardrobe--and others so vast that they, like his curtains, seemed to block the light of day. His whole life he had always seen himself as he was. He saw himself as one person. As one single identity. As the persona he always believed he would be.

But as he sat in his bed on that night at 12:08 he realized that he had not only changed, but he had become another person entirely. Not only had small characteristics of his life been altered, but his entire identity had undergone a massive shift. The one persona he had known was now an entirely different person; an alter ego of a world in a mirror. The Charlie of four years ago and Charlie now were completely separated from each other, and he thought to himself that if they were ever to meet, they would have very little to talk about.

This made Charlie feel very lost in the world, as the one person he thought he could always trust to be a constant hadn't just changed, but had ceased to exist. He had always thought he could trust himself. Yet, his 'self' had gone away. And the new individual that took this place--while he was obviously more mature, more confident, more capable of growing facial hair--still lacked the childish innocence which Charlie had grown to trust, and eventually to cherish.

And when looking back on the person who he used to be--now long gone--Charlie couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before his current self would cease to be. How long would it be before Charlie would look back at himself and realize that a version of him had died yet again? How many versions, how many illusions of Charlie would there be before the end?

But then Charlie realized that perhaps this realization of multiple form was in itself, the creation of a new Charlie, and he had become a new person yet again.

Charles III,
born August 30th, 2007 12:08 A.M.

"I've changed," he thought. "I really have."

Time sure seems to fly.

In about 18 minutes, it will officially be "moving day."

Now only 17 minutes.


It's odd to think how fast time has gone by. It always seemed like I had all the time in the world before it was my turn to move out. I watched as my brothers left and I had plenty of time. I watched as my friends started to go and I still had a couple years. I watched as still more friends moved away and I still had a couple days.


but now I'm here, and it's 15 minutes until it is my turn.

Now only 14 minutes.


Today I bought two bottles of shampoo, and I thought about how strange it is that I have to buy that for myself now. How strange it is that I am starting to own my own things. I have furniture now. Yesterday I bought a file cabinet, and it was one of the strangest sensations to know that something I always associated with my parents and the working world would soon occupy my room. A room that is in a town where I don't know the names of streets or businesses. A town that I will move to tomorrow.


a tomorrow that will be here in 10 minutes.

Now only 9 minutes.


I have dishes now. Two plates, two forks, two knives, and two spoons. I have a telephone with an answering machine. When I was little, I always wanted to be the voice on the answering machine saying that we weren't home, but my dad wouldn't let me.


But in 7 minutes, the day will be here when that voice can be me.

Now only 6 minutes.


I packed up my video games. Took them out of the basement and put them in my footlocker. And as I started going up the stairs, the basement looked very empty. No empty soda cans, video game cables, or game cartridges on the floor. It looked just like a basement. Like storage.


All the youthful parts of the house are coming away with me in 4 minutes.

Now only 3 minutes.


I had to say goodbye tonight, and it was really difficult. I am going to miss you all so much. I love you all so much.


But I have to go; in 2 minutes.

Now only 1 minute.


It's 11:59 and I have 1 minute left until the day that I move out of my house. And I want you to know that I am both excited and terrified; both happy and sad. But no matter what, I'm me. And I hope to God that I'll stay me. Because such a big part of me is you guys. My friends who love me no matter what. I miss you all already. But I know we'll be ok. I know we'll still be together.


I know that with friends like you, I'll be me, and I'll be ok.

I know that because it's 12:02.


We made it through the first two minutes, and the way that time seems to fly, we can easily make it through the rest. But until then, know this:

You have all been such a blessing in my life thus far and I know that you will continue to be. You make me who I am.

And right now, five minutes into my moving day, it seemed like a good time to say thank you.

Love always,
jim.

day 1296

So it's been 1296 days since I started sharing my life on the internet. That's about 3.5 years since a 14 year old boy attempted to cook some eggs on a thursday morning and wrote about it. 3.5 years since that same boy got the stomach flu and decided that the world needed to know. 3.5 years since he wrote about absolutely everything that would happen in a day hoping that at least one small part of it might have poetic or comedic merit.

and I would hope that since then two things would have happened:

Thing 1. The things I'm sharing actually do have some emotional merit to others, and they are not merely a plot analysis of my day.

and

Thing B. That the things I write about, even if they do not fit the criteria of thing 1, can be said in a way eloquently enough that they can trick others into thinking that they do fit the criteria of thing 1.

I don't know why I feel like I need to put my feelings into words. Even when life is quite uneventful and I don't feel like I'm feeling anything new, I want to tell about it. So I write, and I just hope that even if the feeling I write about is not anything spectacular, it is something that people can relate to. That my feelings are something that people can learn something from.

That sounds really self-absorbed. Like I said, what I feel most of the time is nothing interesting, nothing particularly extravagant--but I still feel that maybe something about it's simplicity gives it merit.

and it feels good to get it out there. Even if it means nothing to anybody else.


And right now I think I am feeling alive. I'm terrified of how my life is about to change, but at the same time excited. Excited that tomorrow I will be buying all the new things I'll need for living without parents. Terrified because I'll be completely on my own. But I know that I'm feeling something, that I'm not just numb, which I think is the worst feeling in the world.

I'm alive. and I'm going to college. and I'm moving away from my family and friends. and I know that things are going to change. but at the same time I know that everything is going to work out fine. I am confident that everything is going to work out great.

love always,
jim.


by the way, I decided that I want to start writing letters to people from school. So if you would like me to write to you, leave me your address, or send me a letter at:

292 Allison Hall
Ft. Collins, CO 80521

and I'll send you my writings, ranting, drawings, and whatever else I feel like.

Miss you all already.

sorry, this one's a bit long.

It just struck me that tomorrow will be my last Thursday living in my house. The last thursday in my bed. The last thursday that I was able to spend with my high school friends. And most of all, the last thursday that I can truly still be a child.

Not that I care much about thursdays. I don't think they are any more important than any other day of the week. But this thursday is important because it is the first of my last days. The very beginning of my last week of summer, and I can't believe it.

I feel like all the growing up I should have been doing over the past 18 years has been crammed into this final seven days. Seven days to figure out how to do the laundry, how to clean up after myself, how to manage my time, and how to say goodbye to the people who have become such a giant part of my life.

I think that last one is the hardest. How do you say thank you "for being my friend," "for always being there for me," "for all the good times we've had?"
Just saying something like that doesn't seem like nearly enough.

I went to a party tonight and I couldn't help but think that things are going to change massively soon. That nothing will ever be like this again. Why does everything constantly have to change?

I hope this change is for the better, as it often is; but it is so sad that I have to leave everything that I'm comfortable with to bring it about. That I have to risk it all to move on.

I wanted to write something tonight. Something poetic, that could really express the way that I think we're all feeling. but I don't think I can at all.

It's like there's a feeling so big that you can't express it with words. A feeling of excitement and terror; of both hello and goodbye; of childishness and maturity. How the hell do you write about that? What do you say? But maybe all you can do is try to express that feeling. Even if you know it's impossible. Maybe you just have to try and explain it, so that you will realize how very hard it is to grasp.

So that's what I'm trying.

I leave in 7 days. Holy crap.

"Are you kidding me?" he thought to himself as he viewed his tired face in the mirror. He had known all along that the time to move on had been coming; but now that it was closing in so quickly, he found himself utterly terrified as he considered how much his life would change over the next few weeks. Walking around his bedroom, he thought carefully of all the things he'd be leaving behind: his windows overlooking the front yard, the warmth of his bed on a cool night, the mirror on the back of his closet door, the feeling he'd get in the morning when the sun just peaked in through his curtains. But most of all he thought of the things outside of his room. His family, his friends. Almost all of the people who he truly loved would be far away. And when he thought of this, it terrified him more than anything ever had.

He almost felt like he was dying, as he said goodbye to the people who he had grown up with. As if a piece of him, a part of who he was, would never be the same. As he shook the hands of those who were so close to him, it felt so business like, so statuesque; as if part of them had already ceased to be a child.

"shit," he muttered softly, "this is growing up."




well now that we have that depressing part out of the way, I think i want to get back to what I was saying earlier. I don't know how in the world I could thank you all for everything that you have done for me (and will continue to do for me I'm sure).

I know that I'm not dying, and you'll all still be around. But since I won't get to see you as much, I just want you to know that I am so madly in love with all of you. The ways in which you have all changed my life have meant so much to me. Thank you so much for who you are.

Now I'm going to quit being such a whiny baby and go to sleep.

love always,
jim.

today. . .

I always am amazed by the feeling you get when you get home from a great day. Like today. Today was a wonderful day.

It's a feeling like everything is right with the world. Like everything is so full of possibility. Every plan you have can succeed and every love you've ever wanted is within your grasp. And I think this feeling is entire brought on by friends. Because a great day alone feels nothing like this.

I think that Anaïs Nin said it well when he wrote that
"each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." Like every friend we've ever made has the ability to change our entire existence. Each friend we have brings this feeling of possibility and hope in each wonderful day. Not just a possibility but a completely different world.

Today was a wonderful day, and I wanted to thank all of you who made it as such.

love always,
jim.

bored enough to write something.

Currently Listening Man at Work By Colin Hay see related

"I can't stop thinking about you," he said. "I just want you to know that you're my entire world." He looked deep into her piercing brown eyes, waiting for her to tell him that she felt the same way. Waiting to hear her say that she loved him, and that she always had. But she said nothing.

She said nothing, not because she was ignoring him, not because she believed herself out of his league, but simply because Richard was talking to a photograph. A photograph that, although Richard often talked to it, was completely unable to hold an intelligent conversation. The poloroid snapshot had been tucked up under the frame of Richard's mirror ever since the subject which it captured had sent it to him in a letter.

The letter, which Richard kept in his wallet as a type of good luck charm, was sent from a family vacation which the girl had been on: a week-long excursion which Richard had considered the most boring and lonely time of his life. This tiny bit of correspondence, Richard felt, proved that--although she was way out of his league--the girl really did care for him.

The thought of this intrigued Richard, who believed that if he was lucky enough to have this girl think of him, even for just a moment, he must have used up all of the luck that God had given him. This is why Richard was completely terrified to talk to her. Anything Richard said seemed to come out as mindless blabber. Which is why he was satisfied talking to a picture.

Although it would never talk back, it didn't care if he sounded like a fool. And it represented a girl who, although she may not ever have known how he felt, had once cared for him enough to send a letter.

A letter that held a photograph as a sort of non-judgmental ambassador. A messenger from his one true love. The messenger tucked under the edge of Richard's mirror. A constant reminder that there was someone out there who loved him, even if only a little.

And maybe that was enough.

Currently Watching Back to the Future - The Complete Trilogy (Widescreen Edition) By Michael J. Fox, Christopher Lloyd, Lea Thompson, Crispin Glover, Thomas F. Wilson see related

I am so thankful that I have friends like you.

love always,
jim.

Currently Listening Interventions and Lullabies By The Format see related

I'm trying to find truth

in words,
in rhymes,

in notes,

in all the things I wish I wrote...

because I feel like I've been losing you.

That's a good song.





I got a haircut today.

love always,
jim.

Currently Reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Book 5) By J.K. Rowling see related

Saw the newest Harry Potter film this evening.

and it was quite enjoyable.

especially to be able to go with some of my best friends.




R.I.P. Sirius Black

Currently Listening Man at Work By Colin Hay see related

I was thinking about you today. And I wondered why it feels so much like you never think about me. I really hope that you do. Because I think everybody needs someone to think about them sometimes. Just as a reminder that they aren't alone in the world, that they are real and loved. I hope you know that I think of you.

Here's to that half hour conversation

Currently Listening Plans By Death Cab for Cutie see related

It's amazing how fast everybody is leaving.

To the two who leave tomorrow: I love you and I miss you already.

love always,
jim.

Currently Listening Give Up By The Postal Service see related

(Topics: xanga, time, college, growing up, expectations, secrets, venting, poetry?)

As of today, I have had xanga for 1,257 days. And on this 1,257th day, I have registered for college. And although compared to the 6,750+ days that I've been on the planet this seems like a small number, it seems like so long ago. But, at the same time, it feels like yesterday. It was yesterday. One day seems to have been drawn out into 1,257 days. 1,257 days seem to have been squashed together into one day.

I think it's strange that such a long time can seem so short, but at the same moment, this short time seem so unbearably long.



I can't believe that I'm growing up. That I've grown up.

But at the same time. . .

I can't believe that I'm so young. That I'm so naive.




I never could have imagined that going away would be like this.
It's so much better than I expected. It's so much worse than I expected.


But I'm ready . . . I think.

Perhaps the only way you can really be ready is to admit that you're not.

To admit that the next step completely terrifies you and that there are times that you just want to scream in pain.
And times that you want to scream in joy.
To admit that a new life makes you more nervous than you could imagine and that at times the pressure will be unbearable.
and times when the pressure will lead you to a discovery of who you really are.
To admit that this change is huge and that at times you will miss how things used to be
and times that you will thank God that you get to experience something new.



I feel like everybody is growing up at these different rates. Rates that change daily. Where some days I will feel like I have been way too jaded by these new experiences and other days that I feel far too innocent.

It's weird to be in all these different places.



Train of consciousness-
I wonder how many people will really read this. I feel like while I write it to vent, I also think that it has some sort of poetic value to it.

I doubt that.

But maybe it does. and if so, that's great. I hope it helps people.

and if not, that's great. Because I think it helps me.



someone told me tonight that I seem like I keep a lot of secrets. and I don't know if that's good or bad.

but I feel like even if I can't vent "secrets" to others, I can vent them here. and even if nobody reads them, that's fine.

Because I will know that now they are words, now they are tangible, now they are more than just me. They are something entirely new. Even if nobody knows it.




I want to write a novel. Someday. That would be nice. Even if nobody reads it, that's fine.

It would be something more than just me. Even if nobody knew it.



love always,
jim.

MPE Review Section I: Algebra

Currently Listening Killed or Cured By The New Amsterdams see related

I was on your porch.
The smoke sank in to my skin.
So I came inside to be with you.
And we talked all night;
about everything you could imagine.
Because come the morning I'll be gone.
And as our eyes start to close,
I turn to you, and I let you know,
that I love you.


So I have my college orientation tomorrow. And I haven't taken the math placement exam that I am supposed to have done by now. And the server to take said exam is down right now.

but that doesn't really matter, because scores for exams are submitted to the school at 10pm.

And it's after that time. So they'd get my score tomorrow night anyway.

I haven't even gone to college yet, and I'm already failing at it. . .

Shit son.



I had the feeling again tonight. Like I'm the most boring person in the world. I hope that's not true. Because I've met some really boring people. I hope I'm not as boring as them.

I hope I'm not as boring as the guy on the lightrail, who constantly talks to you. No matter how obvious you make it that you want to be left alone, he's there--rambling about some thing or another. Talking about his views on life while his waist is softly constricted by his fanny pack with the plastic king soopers bag coming up through the zipper. He smells like alcohol. He looks like concrete. He talks like he is taking my order at a fast food drive thru, muffled and quick. I hope I'm not like that.

I hope I'm not like the overachiever in an honors class who shouldn't really be there. Just talking to fill time. Repeating the same idea over and over again. He has an awful stutter at beginning of each sentence. He breathes heavily. He has mucus buildup. I hope I'm not like that.

I hope I'm not like that lump who sits in the corner and does nothing. He makes no impact. He is to people as myspace is to websites--There is nothing you can do with him. Just stare. You have to hit refresh quite a few times before he'll give you a "new message." I hope I'm not like that.


I hope I'm not as boring as those people. But once again, in comparison to the people who I was with tonight--who also aren't like those people--I felt boring.

Very boring.


and I don't like that.


Love always,
jim.

Jamaica.

Currently Listening A Collision By David Crowder Band see related

I am in Jamaica with my church having the best time ever.

I will be back the 22nd.

Love you all.

love always,
jim.

strangeness

Currently Listening Interventions and Lullabies By The Format see related

It's amazing to me how fast we've all grown up.
I can't believe how much things change.

I leave for Jamaica tomorrow. So I won't see you for a while.
And for the first time ever, "a while" can be quite a long time.
So if you leave before I get back, know that I miss you terribly and I wish that we didn't have to move onto bigger and better things. But at the same time, I'm glad that we do.

I loved growing up with all of you, and I hope that even though we are just starting to separate, we can still grow up together across whatever distance there may be.



It's strange to watch people begin to move away, to leave the one place that we've all known for most of our lives.

It's strange to think that my parents started off somewhere very far from here, and someday my kids may think of this place as very far away.

It's strange how distances can seem so close and yet so very far away at the exact same time.

but most of all, it's strange how I can be so incredibly happy with the experiences we've had together, and yet so disappointed that we couldn't have had more.

Currently Listening Middle of Nowhere By Hanson see related

June 6th = best night of summer thus far.

love always,
jim.

When all's been said and written, the two of us will watch the world cave in. . .

Currently Listening Killed or Cured By The New Amsterdams see related

I want to be a "good guy"
I want to be "mr. reliable"

but we are shaped by both the good and the bad, through both our triumphs and our mistakes. And maybe sometimes you have to realize that nobody is "good" or "bad" or "reliable" or "flaky" but that in the end, we're all the same. In the end we are all shaped by the same forces. The same triumphs and mistakes.

In the end we're all good and bad, reliable and flaky.

and that's what makes us human.
that's what makes us real.
and that's what makes life interesting.


and maybe that is nice.



love always,
jim.

Sunday, June 3, 2007, 12:25 AM

Currently Listening Free to Stay By Smoosh see related

I want to be a "good guy"
I want to be "mr. reliable"


I think that would be nice.

Some far off midafternoon.

Currently Listening Casino Twilight Dogs By Youth Group see related

Forever young, I want to be forever young. I want to always see things in hindsight. To understand that feelings that I have often pass before I can understand them. and most of all to know that the few times when I do understand life, it is truly remarkable.

I want to write.
I want to help people.
to help the world.
to help other people help the world.

I want to say things that move people.
that help people.
that change people;
to say things that make people want to be different.
want to be better.

I want someone to want me. to need me. to understand me.

I want someone to share a giant bowl of cereal with me every morning. Like a mixing size bowl. And we'll both wear plain white t-shirts. And watch cartoons until midafternoon. We won't worry so much about the world, about our obligations or our careers. It will just be us, and cartoons, and cereal in the midafternoon. And that will be enough.


I think if I could just have that, everything would be ok.


But to tell the truth, everything is pretty ok now.

So you can disregard all that if you like.

Love always,
jim.

I think I miss someone who may or may not even exist.

Maybe that's what love is. . .

	Currently Listening Hard Rock Bottom By No Use for a Name see related Sometimes it's nice to climb trees to play on the swings to walk along the creek to run around in the dark to be a kid.

Currently Listening Begin to Hope By Regina Spektor see related

Today I said goodbye. My teachers signed my yearbook. And instead of saying, have a great summer, they said,

“Have a good life.”

I was always ready for summer; but I don’t think I’m ready for life.

I wish I hadn’t taken high school for granted.

I am going to miss:

Acting.

Listening to RENT really loud while preparing to go on stage.

Eating lucky bread in the choir room.

Theatre kids.

Teachers who have changed my life so much.

Going out to lunch with two of my best friends.

Sweet drum beats on the dashboard of the truck.

A hug from a close friend for no real reason.

The walk from the school to Clement Park and back again.

Balancing on the curb.

Diversity Club.

Subway Tuesday.

King Soopers Wednesday.

Sitting in the stairwell.

Crying in the car in front of Barnes and Noble—but knowing that you’ll take care of me.

Traveling to Victor’s restaurant.

Eating carefully counted jelly beans.

Guitar hero.

Crumble/Grumble cake Thursday.

Chemistry labs.

English lectures.

New friendships.

Coffee.

Midnight coffee.

Freight.

Musical.

The constant beep of the tampered with vending machines.

Tripping down the stairs in the commons.

The walk from the choir room to the back stage door before a play.

The smell of the stage curtain.

Rebel man.

Singing the Alma mater in front of the office.

Being called “Taggs.”

“Sending out an S.O.S.”

Starcraft.

Treehouse.

Late nights.

Inside jokes.

Tokyo Joe’s mints.

“SHOTGUN!”

Being late to Mr. Bartok’s class everyday.

Jamba Fridays.

Signing play posters late at night.

Set building.

Mrs. Schwartz.

WE ARE . . . COLUMBINE.

“Don’t smoke”

“That’s funny because. . .”

Five Iron Frenzy – Dandelions

Fitting as many people on a couch as you can.

Prom.

IHOP.

Laying on the driveway and talking for hours.

Just driving.

Adventures.

Nearly dying (numerous times).

“Stephen loves Robert.”

“CHIMICHANGAS!”

Writing Center naps.

The Writing Centaur.

Taking everything for granted.

Feeling like I was a part of something.

Growing up.

I have loved high school. I miss it already. I miss you already.

All of you. You have changed my life. My teachers, my friends, my acquaintances—all of you—have changed my life so much. You are what have made the past thirteen years so good—and the last four even better. The giant talent and caring nature that you are all granted with can change the world. It certainly has for me. I love you Rebels.

Love Always,

jim.

eventhough this chapter is over, I'm excited for the future.

for better or for worse. . .

Graduation is less than a week away. One short week. And—when compared to the eighteen years that have all been pointing to this one moment of achievement—that is an incredibly small amount of time. It’s strange to think that in less than one week our main constancy in life will be gone. Although some of us have been nerds, band geeks, football players, and theatre kids; the one thing that has always been constant is that we have all been students. We have all been children. It’s strange to think that that is changing.

High school itself is a strange experience. It is a web for constant pressure to conform, accompanied by the ongoing need to excel. It is a place where people are striving so hard to fit in that they become things which they really aren’t.

Most people who view me as a senior see me as theatre geek. However, few people know that during my freshman year, I wanted to be just like everybody else. I even went so far as to consider joining the football team. I was terribly shy and scared to death of what people thought of me. In order to still seem somewhat cool, I sang in a band, yet allowing myself to give a speech, much less act on a stage, was extremely difficult. I kept quiet and just tried to do well in my classes without making much of an impact on anyone else. It was both my least favorite and least memorable year at Columbine.

However, I think the best part of high school is that—when surrounded by pressure to be like everyone else—it is the easiest time to find the ways in which you are different. Most people are terrified of this, terrified of not being accepted; but for others, this is when they find the tiny niche that they fit into—away from the outside world, the small outcropping of people to whom they really belong. For me, this niche was the theatre department. I first joined during my sophomore year and have been acting ever since. I took refuge from the drama of high school in the drama of theatre. Acting in the nine productions, which I was extremely blessed to be involved in, led me to realize who I am. It also led me to realize what I want to do with my life, despite not knowing what my major in English next year will really be good for. I am so thankful to the drama department and Mrs. Schwartz for this discovery. When I’ve thought back on how I got to where I am, I realized that maybe discovering who you are is largely based on discovering who you aren’t. Perhaps real understanding comes from allowing yourself to accept that you might not be in the popular crowd, might not be the star of the football team, or might not be everyone’s favorite—while at the same time, accepting that you are who you are. All the pressure of popularity and fitting-in can be a blessing if you realize that in finding shelter from it you will find where you truly belong. I know that I have. Perhaps it is like Antoine de Saint-Exupéry suggests in The Little Prince when he writes: “What makes the desert beautiful . . . is that somewhere it hides a well.” I’m glad that I have found the beauty of Columbine before I have to leave.

Next year, I will be moving to Ft. Collins to attend Colorado State University—where I will more than likely be the only English major living in an engineering dorm. But instead of being scared, I’m excited to once again carve out a little shelter for myself within my new environment. I just hope it will be as good as what I have here. I have really enjoyed the place I have found here at Columbine. To those of you who have provided that place for me--Mrs. Schwartz, the drama department, the Columbine Diversity Club (UIA), the choir department, Key Club, and what is left of Columbine Improv Club—I give a world of thanks. You provided me with a place apart from this giant popularity contest of high school. You have provided me a refuge where I can be myself. It is this refuge that has made me ready for life’s next big step this fall.

This fall, the people who we’ve known for the past eighteen years will be moving on to bigger and better things. The neighborhoods where we sold lemonade as children will have a slightly lowered population. We’re graduating. This is where “real life” begins. Some people have hated high school, claiming that constant peer pressure and other forces cause them to become someone who they aren’t. Yet, as one of my favorite authors, Stephen Chbosky, writes in The Perks of Being a Wallflower: “we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there.” We don’t choose whether or not to fit in, but instead where we fit in.

If there is one thing that I could give to Columbine, it would be that its students allow themselves to be whoever they are. Just be you, because “you” is cool. High school may change all of us, for better or for worse; but I think it is that “better or worse” that matters. The “better or worse” is where we find who we truly are and where we truly belong. The “better or worse” is what I am going to miss.

Love Always,

jim.

You are my sweetest downfall (day 1209)

Currently Listening Begin to Hope By Regina Spektor Samson see related

I think it's strange that it's possible to feel so overcome by a feeling.

What makes it more strange is when that feeling is nothing; When that feeling is apathy. When a force that doesn't even exist completely takes you over. Why can not feeling anything completely consume you more than feeling anything? To think that nothing can mean everything at a given moment in time. It's like every morning when you wake up, and once you're out of bed, you notice the indentation on the pillow where your head rested for the night. And now that you are not resting on it anymore it seems strange that the indentation still is so important. So important that it is still the entire essence of the pillow.

Soon the fact that we aren't in high school anymore will signify that we were once there. The fact that we are done will justify the fact that we started. The end will create the beginning. We are adults only because we aren't children. That seems odd to me, that we are defined by something only after we leave it.

Today I thought a lot about myself through the lens of what I'm not, or what I used to be. And it was weird to look at nothing in order to try and find me.

It was weird to look at nothing and try to find something.

Love always,
jim.

Poor old Granddad. . .

. . . I laughed at all his words
I thought he was a bitter man
He spoke of women's ways
They'll trap you, then they use you before you even know
For love is blind and you're far too kind
Don't ever let it show

I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was younger.
I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was stronger.

The can-can such a pretty show
Will steal your heart away
But backstage back on earth again
The dressing rooms are grey
They come on strong and it ain't too long
For they make you feel a man
But love is blind and you soon will find
You're just a boy again

When you want her lips, you get her cheek
Makes you wonder where you are
If you want some more then she's fast asleep
you're just twinkling with the stars.

Poor young grandson, there's nothing I can say
You'll have to learn, just like me
And that's the hardest way, ooh la la
Ooh la la, la la, yeah

I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was younger.
I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was stronger.

oh no. . .

this is probably the best I'm ever going to look. . .

. . . gulp.



Growing up is weird. I think it is strange that something about this time in my life makes me want to type my feelings every few seconds.

But then when I sit down at the computer, I have no clue what to type.

So. . . here is a list of things that are on my desk at this very moment in time:

1. one moolatte cup (empty).
2. one story (horribly depressing) which I have a write an essay (analytical) concerning.
3. one phone (cellular).
4. one rock (fake) for hiding a key (house) in.
5. one cup (ceramic) with a pencil (dixon ticonderoga) tied to it so the pencil (dixon ticonderoga) won't get taken away from the computer room.
6. one battery charger (unplugged).
7. one post-it note (no longer sticky) with "VWIVFX WINDSOR II" written on it. (I don't know what that means)
8. two cases of cds (blank).
9. one letter to my dad (Joe) from Kearny, New Jersey.
10. one left hand (mine).


I hope that the quality of one's life cannot be measured by the poetic nature of what is on one's desk.

I actually hope that the quality of one's life can be measured by the number of milkshakes one has had on a given day.

That would be nice . . . and I would be fat.


Love always,
jim.

By the time you read this post, it won't be what I'm feeling at all.

Currently Listening Le Roi Soleil By Original Soundtrack see related

I just realized that every time you look at a picture, it means that the moment in time which that picture represents is over. By the time you look at the image, what it represents is over. I wish you could look at a picture of something while it was still happening.

I realized this because I was looking at one of my friend's pictures of when he used to live in Ohio. And it made me sad, even though I didn't know or miss any of the people in the pictures. But because the moments those pictures represent are over now, and it is impossible for me to be any more a part of them than if I had never seen those pictures in the first place.

It's sad to think that the only physical representation you can ever have of something is always of something as it used to be. By the time the picture is taken, the person in it has aged-even if only for a second. By the time the painter signs his name at the bottom, the paint does not show what it was intended to. I've realized that nothing is really timeless.

I wish I could take a picture that would capture something constant.
A picture that wouldn't change with one's emotions.
That would remind of the past just as much as it would remind of the future.
A true representation of something as it is and will always be.

I wish I could paint a picture that would change as everything changes.
A picture that would age along with the subject it represents.
That would be solid and fluid at the same time.
A real view of life-now and always.




But I can't. . .

Shit.



Love always,
jim.

P.S. I guess that even though the moment is over, having something to remember it is good. But I still wish things didn't have to change. Because I'm happy now.

day 1195.

Dave and Steve and Kayla are really good friends.

Coffee Jam

I'm thrilled that people may have finally started caring. We raised over $1200 and it was a great time.

Thanks to everybody who came and everybody who was involved with planning, set-up, and rocking out.

I'm really proud of what happened.

It makes me wish I had another year. I should have done so much more.

"And in that moment, I swear we were infinite."

Currently Listening ...Is a Real Boy By Say Anything see related

Well, it is day 1192, and I am feeling pretty good.

Which is strange.

I don't understand how there can be such an immense feeling of comfort at the end of something that means so much.
Perhaps its the feeling of a job well done. Or the pride in friendships that last even after the catalyst which made them occur is gone. Maybe I just stayed up too late at the cast party.

Whatever it is, I'm happy with where I am. I'm proud of what we've done. I'm sad that it has to end, but not sad enough to outweigh my happiness that it happened at all.

To all those who have ever been in "Thespian Troupe 301," I'm proud to have been a part of it with all of you. Each and every one of you has changed my life with your amazing talent and friendship.

and to those of you not graduating, keep it up, so I have something to see next year.


I think I'm ready to graduate now. . .

Love always,
jim.

1191 days.

and then there was only one. . .

The time they are a-changing (1188 days)

Currently Reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower By Stephen Chbosky see related

So I just got home from my last ever play practice.
Then I will have three performances.
and then it will all be over.

and I will be very lost I think.



I tried on my cap and gown today. I looked in the mirror. and I didn't see me.

I wasn't a kid anymore. I was an adult. I was boring.

I don't want to grow up.


This sucks. I don't see how something can be so depressing and so exciting at the same time.
I don't know how I can feel so proud and yet so unaccomplished;
so wise and yet so stupid;
so lost and yet strangely found.

I just miss being little and not knowing that the world had its problems.

I think Charlie said it best when he said:

"I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't."

I think it would be great if I could stay right where I am forever.
I feel like I finally know what is going on, where I belong.
But maybe the time when you know everything is the time when you need to move on. Maybe you have to move on so that you will continue to be lost and then the times when you are found mean something.

I wish that wasn't how it worked. I think it would be great if that wasn't how it worked.
I think it would be great if sledding were always enough.

Love always,
jim.

Okay, how ya doing? I'm Lloyd, and we're gonna watch the movie "Coccoon." I've never actually seen it, but I heard its very good, it makes you happy. Its about a group of people who go to outer space... hope I didnt give anything away there.

Currently Listening Give Up By The Postal Service see related

I find it really hard to admit this. . . but . . . I think I'm growing up.

*gulp*

so the idea of just living lasted about a day.

Yes, you can't spend your whole life worrying. But you have to realize that while life is life, life is also complicated.

You can't just trust that your boat will coast through the rocky waters. At some point you will have to start driving before you've bottomed out and sunk.

Life is life, but realization is survival.

I just hope this doesn't mean what it very well may. . .

Currently Listening ...Is a Real Boy By Say Anything see related

It's amazing that no matter how much things change, everything stays the same.

I think in the end, people are who they have always been. The core of a person's being doesn't change despite their outer shell.

I've been thinking a lot lately. About everything.
About life and love and loneliness;
popularity and preparations and prom;
daydreams and darkness and death,
and I realized that in the time I spend thinking, life can start to pass me by.

Each day passes faster and faster, and then the next thing you know, you're old, and working a job you don't like, and dying a little everyday. And you're still thinking that if you only knew where you were and what your purpose was, you'd be happy. But maybe the only way to be happy is to allow yourself to stop looking for that answer and just accept life. Let life happen. Let time progress. And in the end, if that doesn't work, at least it didn't take as much energy.

Just accept that sometimes good things end, and if they are meant to begin again, they will.
accept that sometimes good people leave, and if they are meant to come back, they will.
accept that your belt is lost, and until then you can wear suspenders.

accept that life is life, and that's all.

by trying to make it anything more, you just make it less.

All I know is that riding on the train tonight, I felt infinite. Like maybe there was purpose and meaning in the world, and the only reason I could find it there was because I wasn't looking. The only reason that it was there was because I wouldn't admit it. It was there because I was there, and nothing else. It was with me. It was around me. It was me. Life.

I don't know why I feel like typing this now. I doubt anyone logged on thinking "I'd love to hear a philosophical rant," but if anyone did, I hope that maybe someday when you're feeling completely lost, you'll call me and you'll say:

"Sometimes I think of the same things. And sometimes the world doesn't make sense, but I'm glad that we're in it together."

and then I'll reply:

"I'm glad too."

and that's all that we will need to say. and that will be enough. and we will be infinite.



But more than likely, you just logged on to check your email/your myspace/your facebook. But even in that, we are infinite--because that's what I logged on for too.

The prom assembly is tomorrow, and I have no clue what to wear.
-jim.

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."

It's time to try defying gravity. . .

"And all the books you’ve read have been read by other people. And all the songs you’ve loved have been heard by other people. And that girl that’s pretty to you is pretty other people. And you know that if you looked at these facts when you were happy, you would feel great because you are describing “unity”. It’s like when you are excited about a girl and you see a couple holding hands, and you feel so happy for them. And other times you see the same couple, and they make you so mad. And all you want is to always feel happy for them because you know that if you do, then it means you’re happy, too.

I just remember what made me think of all this. . . and for the first time in my life, I understand the end of that poem."

Confidence booster.

Currently Listening Give Up By The Postal Service see related

It seems like yesterday everything was new.

I think that yesterday, I felt like yesterday was new. If tomorrow I think today was new I might have to start sleeping through days.

I think that knee socks are better than short socks.

I think that I don't want to be in a "rock-and-roll band" anymore. It doesn't actually score you chicks, or money, or fame. Just a broken croquet mallet, a t-shirt, and one night at a talent show.

I think that nickels are the strangest coin.

I think that when you get old your only form of happiness is nostalgia.

I think that children are wonderful by themselves, but depressing to compare yourself to.

I think things always seem to cycle.

I think that everything ends, and that's what keeps life going. When things stop ending, that's when life ends.

I think that paradoxes are confusing, but are the best way of describing life.

I think that Edward Scissorhands is a quality movie

I think that if I end up going to my high school reunions I will wear fake facial hair.

I think that life is unfair.

I think that the person who you are meant to be with is the person that you can accept dating someone else, as long as they're happy. As long as they are happy, life is worth living--even alone.

I think that I would be a boring drunk.

I think that I would like to feed the ducks like I used to when I was little.

I think that I am going to fail at most of my top goals.

I think that it has been too long since I have played Zelda on nintendo 64.

I think that times are changing and there's nothing I can do.

I think that if I could just go back to that one day, everything would be perfect.

I think that since in 9th grade we were called "freshmen," it would be appropriate for 12th graders to be called "completely-confused-and-out-of-their-fucking-mind-men."

I think that delicious is a difficult word to spell.

I think that I am a completely different person than I was in middle school.

I think that I am exactly the same as I was in middle school.

I think it is weird to watch my friends grow up.

I think it is sad that everyday my future gets shorter and shorter.

I think that my new neighbors seem like tools.

I think that people have been nice to me lately because they are afraid I'm going crazy.

I think I'm completely sane.

I think my dreams have been predicting things lately.

I think God is testing me.

I think I understand the chorus of "Don't Don't Don't Let's Start" now.

I think that it's strange to hear people ask me what I want to be when I grow up. I've been responding: "able to grow facial hair."

I think it's strange that life changing events always all happen at once.

I think that this has all sounded very wussy and I'd like to make it known that I'm not a wuss.

I think that my dog smells worse and worse every day. He really, really does.

I think if this gets any longer, nobody will read it.


I make no sense.


Sincerely yours,
jim.

P.S. Smile! (you know who you are). Smile!

I'm still lame.

worthless uninspired ranting.

Currently Listening Losing Streak By Less Than Jake see related

Hi hockeyinjury5! It's been 1172 (wow, that's a big number) days since you joined Xanga... and you are still the confused freshman now that you were then.

• Except that the coffee that you made to look cool back then you actually drink now.
• The khaki pants you wore back then are now only the pants you wear to work as part of the required uniform.
• The fact that you still end your "about me" section with a joke about long walks on the beach still isn't funny.
• You can now upload 99 pictures on xanga. (but nobody cares)
  
• A short story still doesn't just become a novel.
• You can't chug soda anymore without wanting to die from the pain it puts in your stomach.
• You can't afford to buy a van. Or paint it. Or cover it with stickers.
• You haven't learned to cook.
• You don't put a "current mood" at the end of your posts anymore.
• You suck at ironing clothes.
• You're not in a band.
• You still can't unicycle.
• You've realized that the kids that you thought were "bad kids" when you started high school didn't get any better.
• You've stopped trying to change them.
• The people who didn't like you still don't.
• You still can't live without the sharpest possible pencil.
• You're t-shirts aren't nearly as badass.
• You lost your pocket protector.
• People moved away.
• People died.
• People were born.
• People grew up.
• You stopped posting on your xanga.
• Best friends stopped talking to each other.
• Flowers grew.
• You were happy.
• You were sad.
• You chewed your fingernails.
• You made mix cds.
• You went to other countries.
• You tried your best to be involved in "the high school experience."
  

and you're graduating in 39 days.

and you're completely lost.

and then it will start all over again.


But I'm not going to be emo about it. because if there is one thing that I DID learn from high school it's this:

maybe I'll never really learn what life means, or who I am; but life goes on--so I better get used to it. Because by the time I figure out who I am, I probably just will have changed again.

Current Mood:
Quote of the Day:
Spanish word of the Day:

ok bye!
Jimbo


jim.







holy crap i'm lame.

This is a very important announcement...

Currently Listening Flood By They Might Be Giants see related

Live! from studio 17 in beautiful Littleton, Colorado . . .
This is Jim Taggart's blog 74B.
*Jim Taggart's blog 74B is recorded in front of a live studio audience*

It's a beautiful day outside . . . and it's a beautiful day inside.

and I am your host Archibald P. Finkbottom.

I am required to give you the following announcement. . .

Columbine High School Drama Dept. will perform its critically acclaimed One Act Plays:
Sonoma White and the Seven Dolts,
Check Please,
and
The Man in the Bowler Hat,
a terribly exciting affair,

on February 1st and 2nd at 7:00 in the Auditorium. Tickets are only $3.

For you mathemeticians out there, that is approximately $1 per show.

Come, and enjoy.

Thank you.

for more information please visit www.myspace.com/airborneimmunity

*This concludes our broadcast day.*

where?

Currently Listening No! By They Might Be Giants see related

Where do they make balloons?