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.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, September 10, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
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."
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."
Thursday, August 16, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
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.
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.
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