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.