Smile like you mean it

It has been over a week since my independent study professor remarked the paper I need to hand in and I still haven't worked on it. I planned on toiling away on it last Thursday and Wednesday but I was rather drained; the additional workout exercises I'd added into my routine have left me tender and depleted. I learned Tuesday that the gym is free for full time students during the summer, which I will be. This permits me to carry on with my strategy to elevate distinct areas of my body.

I'm getting worn-out on describing dreams, but forecasting inconsiderable episodes to portray this summer, this will assist filling the vacant space. Time elapsed before writing this, so the specific aspects are more ambiguous then average. The first dream placed me inside some sort of multilevel mall. I can't conclude whether the food I had brought along went bad or if my mother opted to provide an alternative meal, nevertheless she delivered shrimp with cocktail sauce. Ensuing, I called her on my cellphone fussing over her not providing a proportionate meal. Skipping ahead, I returned to a table I had previous eaten at to discover a person halted by the mess I had left behind. I confessed I had come back to clean it, asking for his patience. As I was handling my dirty Ziploe containers, he suggested ringing the bell against the wall to call an attendant to rinse my dishes and sanitize the table. Uneasy with this, I disposed of it myself. Walking away, a man I had a sneaking suspicion mistook me for a mall employee beseeched me to follow him for something involving his father. Doing so, I spotted a former boss and friend of my mine named Rachel with both her children and another girl I had worked alongside at the same job. I stood still as they walked pass, indecisive to make contact. Just then, a person holding shaving cream in the shape of cotton candy bumped into my ear. Irked, I pulled swiped at the shaving cream, unable to remove the remnants that had slid deeper inside. The girl I worked with informed Rachael of me, prompting the group towards my direction. Following expressed delightedness of our encounter, Rachael inquired if I had planned on passing by without saying hello. Lying, I explained what had happened and my embarrassment to be seen in such a state.

Part two took place in my home, involving the aunt with cancer, my cousins on the same side of the family and peculiarly, the IT friend of “her” earlier mentioned named Bethany. The bunch were making baskets akin to Easter. Returning home, I found a disarray of ripped papers on my bed as well as an old wallet I once used with the money spread on top of the bed. I struggled to disclose my hunch that Bethany had been the perpetrator to my father with no avail because of his hearing difficulties. Aggravated, I proclaimed my dislike of visitors entering my room while I was away and accused Bethany of intruding. Pleading innocent, I discourteously pronounced I didn't believe liars. Without an ounce of emotion, she handed me the basket my aunt had made for me. Still choleric, I broadcasted my rejection of the basket. Proximately, I chuckled as I reached into the basket to recover rotten fruit, feeling my action was ultimately correct.

I met with Sarah, the girl I talked to for an hour on Facebook, for lunch last Tuesday. It went shockingly well; I had her laughing almost the entire time. It's feasible she was only doing so to be considerate, but I didn't sense it. Most of the laughter involved her having multiple men yearning for her. I made acquaintance with Sarah in Introduction to Theatre, a class we both took in the Fall 2008 semester. Up until that unforeseen day we first chatted on Facebook, we had spoken scarcely. Sitting in the restaurant, I caught sight of her freckles and brown eyes, traits I had overlooked. I do not deliberate if I procure feelings for her. When “she” was a supporter of mine, I highly anticipated text messages from her, as I do Rachael, but I did not occupy a tenacious longing for her. After lunch we marched over to her dorm room which was disarranged from packing; she was leaving that day to return home in Montana. She offered me an assortment of food she needed to unload. Most of the food had peanuts, which I dislike, but there was a box of vanilla waffers, which I fancy. The first one I bit into was hard; she forewarned me they might be old. I ended up taking a white chocolate with coconut bar and cinnamon graham sticks.

I approached the girl with the dazzling smile last Tuesday before the Abnormal Behavior final. I started by asking her if she had any questions before the exam. We compared notes and consulted with the people around us. With no further questions, I asked her if she was going to be near campus this summer. On account of living in Nashua, I queried if she wanted to hang out sometime over the summer. I am unsure if she said yes, but her reaction was that she would Facebook me. At another time that day having not been sent a request, I searched for her on Facebook. To my despondency, her profile picture was of her and another guy. Her profile was public, so I accessed it and took notice she was in a relationship. It took me a lot of guts to ask her, but conceiving I suffer no loss, I'm giving all I've got to not let it irk me. Besides, I've never done it before, which shows I've grown as a person. I am aware this course of action contradicts an earlier declaration that I was not interested in dating. My change in outlook on the world has brought a belief in myself I have not possessed for many a year.

In a previous entry I alluded to repercussions of being delivered by forceps. I was let known last October that I had a deviated septum, which from my knowledge is a misalignment in the nose and in my case, a left nostril that was practically closed. In the beginning I had gone to an Ears, Nose and Throat (ENT) doctor for a throat issue. I frequently sense food embedded in my throat and at times am able to dislodge small white pieces from inside, but the feeling does not cease. The doctor took notice that one of my tonsils was enlarged, explaining why food becomes lodged. It was at this time she informed me of my deviated septum. As a child when I put a finger over each nostril to blow the other, I noticed my left one did not release as much air as the other, but thought nothing of it. I am not the first in my family to have this complication. In fact, two uncles on different sides of the family a short while ago had operations for it. Favorably for me, my circumstance was commonplace. One uncle had a follow up procedure because of additional difficulties and the other required having his nose broken. Following a handful of different tests to no conclusive answer for the initial complaint, I preceded with repairing the improperly aligned nostril.

I arrived at the hospital Friday a little after 7 am and was brought into the operating room around 8 am. My ENT doctor performed the surgery; a well dressed woman in her late thirties with as my mom described “the personality of a pig”. I awoke an hour and a half later woozy from the anesthesia and was immediately put on morphine. After an hour in recovery, I proceeded home with a list of instructions: rest; sit at a 45 degree angle; no bending over; no nose blowing; mouth open when sneezing; a gauze under the nose changed regularly; a saline solution up the nose every three hours; an antibiotic three times a day and ointment inside the nose three times a day. My mother has been babying me to my protest, excessively worrying as always. She carries my meals to my room and keeps account of my medication schedule. When her employer called to solicit her working a few hours on Saturday, I had to persuade her to leave my side. She called some hours later to check up on me, for which I replied “Don't worry about me, just work.” She has been on the phone perpetually updating her family on my condition; why I can not contemplate. In truth, I am accustom to this treatment from her, but I will not derail into that. After such a major surgery, I am genuinely splendid. I stopped taking the painkillers prescribed because I am not experiencing serious distress. My weekend has been sleep, eating lots of candy and sitting on recliners playing computer games. I am not in full health yet; I can still spit out blood and my nose is lightly bleeding. When my summer courses begin on Tuesday, I am optimistic my nose will stop. The one major inconvenience is I will not be able to exercise for the next two weeks because of the surgery, disrupting one of my goals for the summer.

As a I practice from now on, I will not divulge topics in future entries because I end up not following through.

I can't say that it's over

I can't say that it's over

I know that I should believe me

but I can't

Oh yes I can just not yet

Just not yet

I woke up one morning in the past week and threw this chorus together. Imagine someone singing this with a soothing voice with the two yets drawn out. I'm not sure if the lyrics mean anything; in the past I've largely failed at conceiving lyrics to a catchy beat. I worked on them out loud before I came up with something that sounded decent. Well, anything that comes out of my mouth sounds horrible, but if it was sung by someone with actual talent it would be enjoyable to listen too. Soon after near finalization I started remixing the chorus; I do this with other songs not created by me as well. I had it stuck in my head for so much of the morning I recorded it on my computer for safe keeping. I took a stab at expanding it to a full length song with no success.

I have remote justification why I am extraordinarily late with this update. I had two papers to write last weekend for last Monday and have only completed one so far. Fortunately my professor for the independent study forgot when he wanted the paper. Heck, I had to ask him the length and when he wanted me to turn it in a few months ago. When I saw him last Friday he finally asked me about it. My song and dance is two Saturdays ago my predicament began when my gums itched on the left side of my mouth all day. On Sunday it followed up with a tooth ache in multiple areas on the left side of my mouth. This botheration continued the next day with my left ear aching. I had reached my limit; I scheduled a doctor's appointment for the next day. As expected, he prescribed me an antibiotic. Subsequently I had a toothache mainly with ear pain now and again. The issue at hand was the antibiotic, painkillers, brushing nor flossing alleviated the affliction. Fortuitously, I tried cold water which pacified the pain temporarily. For a handful of days I had a water bottle with me at all times to enclose water in the area of my mouth. I had the option of swishing the water around before spitting it out but I instead drank it resulting in many trips to the restroom to my disfavor.

As with relatively all medical afflictions, the origin could have been numerous illnesses. As a precaution, I'm going ahead with the wisdom teeth removal. I mentioned erstwhile that we will have to pay what my dental insurance will not cover. For this reason I could not go to the dentist on account of having to pay even more money for the extraction if I did. The withdrawal is on June 6^th, so if future problems ensue, I'll just have to tough it out. I depended on activities with constant stimuli such as video games, television shows and movies to distract me from the pain. This may be unconvincing, but escapism and sleep are common means of handling pain. The pain is non-existent now, however I h have a mild sore throat. I confess my depletion of motivation did not help the situation. I played video games all weekend and watched Lost; I've done nothing productive.

Two weeks ago I walked into the roommate at the gym. I disremembered in my last entry that I had posted on her Facebook wall apologizing for our last clumsy conversation. Her response left me regretting writing it, but during our following encounter (before this one) she did not look bothered by it. I could see it going two ways: because she knows me to a greater degree then most, she is more understanding of my gracelessness or she is a talented actor. I'll take Understanding for $500 Alex. Some time afterward as I was at a machine I gazed the gym to see if she was still there and sure enough she was using a treadmill behind me. I've stated before I have a tendency to fixate on people, so I regularly turned my head towards her. It may have been so apparent she picked up it; as I saw he turn her head slightly to left toward me; there is a possibility we just synchronized at the same time. Still, last semester I was watching a girl at the bottom of an inclined lecture hall when unanticipatedly she turned towards me. Discombobulated I altered my field of perception toward the floor and never glared at her once more. Is looking at a girl for an extended period of time ogling or admiration? In this case I was not ogling. She is a lovely girl, but her role in the incident is the reason why. Before heading to the changing room, I timidly walked towards her, wished good luck on finals and to take care. I am sure the roommate and “her” have better things to talk about then me, but I would be more at ease knowing “she” had forgotten about me fully. I desire to her, but I know it is a pipe dream.

Samantha did get back to me; I can't recollect her precise response but the gist was she was busy and apologized for not replying sooner. She messaged me on American Online Instant Messanger (AIM) while I was away so I did not respond back. I contacted her on Facebook some time later to see how she was doing. Her responses are always so full of liveliness that I question the sincerity. I've contemplated she used me to collect herself from her disastrous evening because of my accessibility . I struggle to think the best of people, but playing defensive shields from being severely burned. To add fuel to the fire, as I was turning into A Lot in one of my dreams, Samantha said goodbye to me as she walking on the sidewalk in the opposite direction. I did never reschedule with the girl I had called off for coffee, but it broke when we spent over an hour last evening shooting the breeze on Facebook.

In the original post of my previous entry I wrote a lengthy paragraph that I cut because it lacked anything worth interest; further progression has taken place validating it's importance. A small number of weeks ago I watched the movie rendition of Girl, Interrupted, based on the book of the same title we had been assigned to read, in my Abnormal Behavior class. We did not finish the film and because the professor was uncertain we would in the course of time, I downloaded it and watched it to completetion. I sent a mass email to the entire class offering the movie on either CD or directly onto their computer. Three people responded, including a girl who gave me a copy of her notes when I missed two classes because of a medical account. I was eager to help her, but I am unhappy to say I was unable to on account of her missing both scheduled meet-ups to receive a copy. The other two came on time without issue. Amusingly, we ended up finishing the movie in class. Although my work was all for nothing, I didn't lose anything out of it and for a small instance prospected I might benefit, as I'll elaborate next.

On Wednesday I made my way to campus, even with no class to attend, for a Abnormal Behavior test preparation at CFAR. My mentor set up with a mentor for another student in my class to have a person from our class who was achieving for tips on how to prepare for the final examination. I ran late because of having to constantly pour cold water on my tooth. When I got there, I was taken aback that the girl I gave a copy of the movie too was the other student seeking help at CFAR. When her mentor asked if we knew each other, she responded yes with a smile that warmed my heart. When we were done, as I was about to leave I stopped to ponder asking the girl to study with me before the exam. The achieving student invited us to a study group taking place this week, which we both agreed to attend, but I wanted to get to know her more personally. I gathered my courage, approached her, and gave her my proposal. She accepted, the time pending on her moving belongings back home. She delivered her enchanting smile, leaving me mesmerized. I swiftly turned around, spitted out that I'd see her later and left. Not a suave exit by any means, but there is nothing suave about me. Dejectedly, she has not emailed me and it is doubtful she will. I haven't procured an email concerning the study group in addition; I may be alone on this one. This makes me a sad panda.

Last Friday I consummated my Research Methods class. For only studying an hour and a half before the final, it was relatively a cinch. I said goodbye to my professor, a tenderhearted man that I had long exchanges with during the semester. I can not express that he is a marvelous teacher, but he created an atmosphere in the classroom I felt content in. His unusual characteristics such as sitting on top of chairs, bobbing his head across the room when he asked if there were any questions, simulating mice in example experiments and playing the fiddle distinguishes him from other lecturer, if not other people across-the-board. His empathy toward my condition aided me in not failing the class; I handed in an assignment two weeks late. I savored no harsh judgment from him and his overpraise flustered me. He has been the sole instructor I've had any connection with, which I will surely miss.

Before I bring this to a close, I abridged the rant I contrived in a preceding entry when filling out the evaluation sheet for my Abnormal Behavior professor. I am proud to say I achieved filling the page without use of slander. Next entry I will discuss contrasts between my mother and I and hopefully continue with my movie idea before the concepts fade from memory.

Long walks on the beach

I know I sound like a broken record, but I can't seem to push myself to put time into the important assignments due in the near future. In some measure this is brought about from the semester nearing a close, but there is another factor I have yet to establish. I want to work on the assignments, but some unknown force is holding me back. I'm in the position now that if I am unable to exert myself, I go to bed early; I have fallen asleep between 8 and 9 pm the three evenings this week. This may be the reason why I have been sleepier than ordinarily.

Last Friday I made a resolution to be more positive; I had an epiphany of some sort. I at long last got it through my head that medication is only a building block in recovery; I need to take charge of it myself. Through my writing it should be apparent that I am pessimistic and do not exert myself to conceal it. I have avowed to change that quality about myself in hopes of becoming a more happy and open person. A positive perspective will not prohibit low moments, but I will be more capable of coming over them. I am now visiting the Diamond Library again and if by chance I cross paths with the girl I've been avoiding, I will smile, wave and carry on my way. Having meaningful goals is significant as well, but outlining what I yearn to fulfill will have to wait until after my major papers are wrapped up.

On Friday an unforeseen development took place. A branch of my new philosophy was to be more social. I out of the blue instant messaged a girl I have known since junior high and had one of the classes I dropped out of. As we chit-chatted she asked me questions that I knew were leading to something. They were questions such as what are you doing now, when does your next class start and when does your last class end. When our future plans for the summer came up, I noted I had not been to a beach in long time. Posthaste she proposed going to a beach not far away from campus, even if only for a limited amount of time. I agreed and she picked me up at the bus stop in front of the Diamond Library on Main Street. On the drive there we conversed on a number of topics such as her trip to the emergency room by ambulance for chest pains in the middle of the night. There was diddly squat they could do for her so she proceeded back to her dorm, unable to continuing resting. Samantha has a host of medical problems, all of which I can not recollect. Her most explicit condition is allergies to an abundant number of things. She is fully aware her difficulties handling stress further bring harm to her. She went on about troubles with her boyfriend at a considerable length. He stresses about what she doesn't, only amplifying her level of stress. She has an itch that the sixteen day trip to Ireland during the month of June together will make or break the relationship. They have never been alone for such an extended length of time which worries her that it will not go well. I made an effort to be impartial, giving her advice such as arranging activities alone to give each other space. It was no picnic because of her concentrated negativity toward him. Alongside that, I've had a teeny crush on her for years now. Connectedly, she conveyed a crush she had on her college English teacher, which I found rather cute. I was dumbfounded that I succeeded in holding a conversation for so long with minimal uncomfortable moments; she even seemed interested in what I had to say. We strolled back and forth on the beach for an hour or so giving enough time to drive me back to campus before my next class started. I had scheduled attending yoga, but skipped it because I felt we both needed the break. I contacted Samantha on Monday to check up on how she was feeling and to inquire if she was available Friday. My proposition of seeing a movie and playing pool might have come off as a date, which was not my motive. I enjoyed her company and want to continue to do so in the future. She was uncertain of her availability, only remarking she might be free after 8 pm. This could be an indication that she would rather not, I'm not sure; I've never been good with these sorts of things. I was allegedly oblivious that we flirted with each other during high school, according to friends at the time. The old me without much thought would have stopped pursuing her altogether, but with my new affirmative attitude, I am inclined to put additional effort in. I messaged her again yesterday about it, with no response. I'm am uncertain whether to probe her again. I'm worried my message Wednesday was creepy and pushy.

My mom has it in her head that we are destined to be together based on coincidental evidence. When Samantha was in 8^th grade, me being in 7^th, she chose to go to Kingswood Regional High School instead of Spaulding High School where students from Wakefield customarily attend. I made the same choice in 8^th grade, but she had changed to Spaulding High School at the beginning of sophomore year because she did not enjoy Kingswood. When I also had the same problem and transferred to Spaulding sophomore year. She felt guilty because she believed she had played a part in my decision to go to Kingswood. After graduating from Spaulding, she went to the University of Maine for college. I started at the University of New Hampshire last spring and she transferred here this spring because of the cost for out-of-state students in Maine, which I found out when we met in class. We also worked at the same store at different times. We sometimes messed around in my junior year of high school driving back to Wakefield and before she graduated she wrote her number on my car instructing me to call her and scribbled “Thanks for the fun times, Wyatt!”, “Samantha is cool!”, “Sucka”, and “You wish you were a senior. Ha ha ha!” The last part was in reference to me having parked in the senior parking lot that day. As I acknowledged before, I was blind to these signs. Both my friend Melvin and my mother think I should weasel my way in while she is discontent with her current relationship, but that is not the type of person I am. Not only am I convinced that ship has sailed, I am in no health for a relationship as of now.

That same day I text messaged two people I've had communication with this semester. One person was originally a participant in the experiment I was in, but dropped out because of his classes being top priority. During our short lived time together we got along rather well, so far that we exchanged phone numbers and Xbox Live usernames. To my dismay, he has not responded. The other person I've talked to off and on during the semester after a verbose dialogue on Facebook relative to a situation with a boy she was considering dating. Preceding Friday she offered spending time together, which I neither declined nor accepted. When I took her up on it, she suggested getting coffee before the semester ended. We were to meet Wednesday, but I canceled because I was not feeling well and stayed home. I do not think we will reschedule.

Speaking of Wednesday, I woke up feeling rather “off”. It had nothing to do with waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but rather a strange feeling of being incomplete and misaligned that I haven't experienced before. Nothing was missing, but everything was disorganized. I felt that my reality had become fragmented; I was in it and not in it at the same time. The Lost episode I had watched the night before involving a character whose mind kept jumping back and forth in time may have been an influence.

I haven't caught up with everything I want to talk about, so if not by tomorrow then by Sunday I will cover what I didn't today and continue my movie proposal.

The mighty Moose

The month of April has finished and spring semester is coming to a close. I can't say I have a colossal pile of work to be done, but if I carry on as I am now, I'll dig myself into a hole I'll not be able to pull myself out of. I did not feel inclined to catch some zzz's Thursday night, opting to watch an episode of Lost instead. My body apparently felt the same to my vast displeasure as I awoke an hour and a half early Friday morning. Gratefully, my weekdays are not hectic; the only out of routine task that day was to visit an ears, nose and throat doctor at 9 am for a precursory check up before my procedure later in the month. I'll spell out what the operation is for as it draws near.

I dreamt once again Friday morning. In my dream I stepped in to help the UNH women's hockey team during practice due to being a player short. Two people from my past were present as I played; Lucas G, who I was friends with from elementary school to high school and Rick, who I believe I knew up to junior high. Ludicrously, I played without a hockey stick and helmet to offset being a male. I skated slowly, succeeding in snatching the puck away from the girls, even managing to score one goal; Lucas G complimented how skilled I was. When I was out played Rick called out in disappointment, which I detested having not played the sport since I was twelve years old. I apologize to all women for this sexist undertone. I do not genuinely think women hockey players are so inferior to men that this is feasible. The fact is, I can't even ice skate.

Being the person I am, until I left my house that morning I expanded the dream further into a feature length film. The movie starts with a middle school hockey game in a small arena. The clock shows five minutes left in the third period, with the score 3-2 in favor of the Millieville Moose. The parents cheer from the stands, clapping and calling out their children's names. Even after playing a full game, none of the players show any signs of fatigue, displayed the rigor of youth. The coach claps and cheers for the children as well, patting them on the back as they take their seat on the bench. The game intensifies as a player on the opposing team is tripped by number 6 of the Moose, resulting in a penalty. As the player stands up, he mumbles “Fag”, instigating number 13 on the Moose who retaliates by pushing him onto the ice and is immediately put in the penalty box. With three minutes left, both players in the penalty box for two minutes for a five-on-three in favor of the Ithua Muskrats. After winning the face off at center ice the Musktats pull their goalie, making it six-on-three. The Muskrats stand on the outskirts of the Moose zone, passing the puck to each other in an attempt to take the defense off guard to shoot the puck at the goal. Number 42 of the Moose positions himself in front of his other teammates. He keeps his eyes on the puck, sliding back and forth to block any opportunity to shoot. After some time passes, an opposing player becomes impatient and when he pulls back to shoot, number 42 reaches out for it and knocks it to the other side of the rink. As his two teammates and the opposing team skate to retrieve it number 42 while catching his breathing stares off into the crowd as if he is looking for someone. Suddenly, his coach hollers “James, pay attention!” Number 42 turns his head frontward to see three Muskrats players skating toward him in a horizontal line passing the puck the puck back and forth to each other. With little time to react, James slides forward to block a shot that bounces off his right knee. With a grunt he pushes himself to remaining standing but in unable and has to rest against the wall. The three players reclaim the puck, set up a two timer to score a goal. As James slowly moves toward his team's bench, his coach in a concerned tone asks if he's okay. James replies that he's fine and takes a seat. James watches as the Moose hold on until the power play ends, still with his hand on his right knee. The clock continues to count down with one minute left to go. James returns to the ice, joining his teammates on the Muskrat's zone. As the children fight for the puck in a corner of the rink, a Muskrat achieves in taking the puck. He passes it to a teammate, who forwards it to another teammate gliding toward the Moose zone. James, the only person in his way, skates backward into his zone. James keeps up with the player until a jolt of pain runs through his leg, knocking him off balance enough to fall backward onto the ice. The opposing player skates around him, shooting the puck into the net just as time runs out. James lies on the ice with his eyes closed, hearing the announcer proclaim the victory for the Ithua Muskrats, the new regional champions. He opens his eyes and pulls himself up. The goalie on his team skates up behind him, asking if he's okay; he replies yes heavyhearted. His teammates put their heads down, except for number 7 and 13, who glare at James. James takes off his helmet and peers into the crowd, noticing the disappointment of his teammates' parents. He carefully takes notice of who is in the crowd and then stares down at the ice, with tears rolling down his face.

The scene changes to James standing outside the ice rink against a wall in winter clothing watching parents walk out of the arena. All his teammates except the goalie scowl at him as they pass by. When nearly everyone is gone, his coach looming from behind, asks if he needs a ride home. James looks at him, shakes his head no and returns to looking at the ground. The coach stares at him briefly, pats him on the back and walks away. With everyone gone, James pulls his head up, peering at the stars above. The scene then moves to a small house surrounded by trees in a neighborhood. James walks from the street into the driveway and up the stairs to the door. When he tries to open the door it is locked, so he lifts one of his feet off the mat he is standing on and pulls out a key below it. As he walks into the house he hears yelling in the kitchen up ahead. He prepares himself to block out the altercation and precedes forward.. As he walks into the kitchen he notices a beer bottle in his father's hand and an assortment papers on the table. He walks pass them undetected into the living room where more items are displaced. James to no surprise finds the couch loaded with an assortment of items, including a wired phone that looks as if someone explored the internal workings. He pushes the items over enough to sit down and takes off his shoes, placing them in front of the fire place. As he enters his room, he still hearing his parents fighting in the distance. He sits down at his desk, puts his head between his arms and begins to cry softly.

The story will continue in the next blog post along with the customary update of events.