Foggier...

I am done.

With what, I'm not sure. It's only natural that once one problem is solved, two more come up. It's the basic principle of entropy - any organized system will move towards disorder at a constant rate. In thermodynamics, confounding variables and outside forces come into play, but I'm an astronomer dammit. No wait I'm a musician. Blah I'm a photographer. Ok I'm Jimmy.

As my boyfriend and I drove home tonight, we hit a huge bank of fog on a the long and twisty stretch of road that leads to my street. It happens to be the road that runs between the corporate campus of SAP America and Lyondell (formerly Arco Chemical) and the estate of John duPont, formerly known as Foxcatcher Farm and fully abandoned as of two yeas ago. Half a mile down the road is the deteriorating home of Brian Schultz, the Olympic wrestler whom, in 1996, the paranoid and schizophrenic duPont murdered on the driveway, now blocked by a barbed-wire fence (like the rest of the estate, which extends to 50 yards behind my house in my backyard) and covered in plant growth and whatnot. The house is intact but I doubt it is structurally stable. The barn off in the field behind it was abandoned at the same time; either this winter or last winter, the roof collapsed because of all the snow. The fields are barren now, more meadow than pasture, and only wildlife lives there. Last month some township worker mounted a piece of plywood on the fence in front of the house on which he spray-painted "3901" - a reasonable guess, on my part, of the actual address of the place, since the next buildings in either direction are 3600 and 4018. I live near an untouched crime scene.

It's always foggy right there when it's foggy. That sounds very strange - well duh it's foggy when it's foggy - but I've noticed that the fog stays up there, on the pastures, around the abandoned house, in the woods opposite the estate, and on the road itself, making nighttime driving more of a challenge than it really ought to be. Why doesn't it make its way down into the valley? I live in the valley. I live at the very bottom, actually, because the road goes uphill both ways with respect to my driveway. Which also goes up. I live on a hill at the bottom of the valley. There is no fog there. But boy do those fields look...eerie. Mystical, enchanting, intriguing, sure - but eerie. What a photo that would make - the abandoned, dilapidated, ready-to-collapse house and its crime-scene of a driveway where an innocent man was shot three times by a paranoid, latently homosexual millionaire who then locked himself in his mansion and drew SWAT teams to the quiet suburb (I don't blame the grunts for showing up on his doorstep...I mean, the guy owned a tank.)

But fog pervades my mind whether it exists or not. I used to think that haze was a figment of my imagination, that it wasn't really there - all a fabrication of a differently-wired brain. But the last year or so has taught me more than just how wrong I was.

My previous post about fog contained several statements I would like to rescind and/or amend (you decide).

• The CFO of my school did in fact receive my e-mail. He did not respond to it, though. I ran into him on campus and we chatted for a moment; he informed me that my insurance issues are to be brought up with another person entirely. One of the art teachers - not the gallery curator, not the Security people, not the Chief Financial Officer who signs the checks - an art teacher is responsible for assessing the damages and requesting remuneration.

• I also stated that I have not been reimbursed for the food I purchased for my failure of a reception. The CFO told me that I should have been, but he needed the receipts. I gave the receipts to the curator over a month ago now. The CFO doesn't have them.

Oh by the way I'm broke.

So, in no particular order, below are listed the problems with which I am currently dealing, and (where applicable) the solutions I see hidden in the fog.

• My senior project is one giant failure to launch. Currently I have a little over a gallon of fully filtered vegetable oil and that's it. I need methanol or ethanol as well as lye (NaOH) and need to actually do chemical stuff to make biofuel, and have two weeks to do it.

• My father is correct in saying that I am doing nothing with my life and lack the motivation that will help me succeed in the future. I am unemployed, I have been unemployed, and I plan on staying unemployed. I have applied for no fewer than eight local jobs that were feasible for me, and have never heard back from any.

• A person I know, or rather, knew, is becoming an unwelcome part of my life again. I am (not fully) at fault for the rift between us, but decided to be a man (rather than a hypocrite) and go apologize in one of the rare moments that (name) and I are in the same place. My apology was thrown back in my face instantly and I was told that seven months of my life were "nothing." (because people get along on an all-or-nothing basis, right? right? hm). This came minutes after I told this person, in front of a bunch of other people, that (name) was a strong and independent person with a drive to succeed. If you're reading this, you know damn well who you are - I meant that at the time, but now I scoff at you! Strong and independent my ass. Weak and cowardly, thriving in the knowledge that (name) can influence others to feel as strongly opposed to me as (name) does - that's what (name) is. If (name) wasn't a lazy, courage-deprived two-faced emotional Gordian Knot, maybe (name) would show up and talk to me in person so I could avoid such incisive invective as I am writing now. Believe me, I wish this problem could be solved by simple conversation, but (name) is too stupid to understand conversational dynamics and doesn't know what an "apology" is, because (name) feels that (name) is always right and the world is out to get (name).

Now to the really drama part.

(name) thinks it's okay to talk shit about me to my friends. More specifically, a certain friend who is closer to me than anyone else at my school, and friend who has told me secrets that (friend) has not told others. A friend whose support is something I cherish because I have few true friends. A friend who does not know (name), only what (friend) has heard about (name), and had to endure (name)'s childish and cowardly attacks on me behind my back. (name) made sure that I had left the location before talking to (friend). Pathetic.

Let it be known that I can and will ruin (name). I will tear down every wobbly support beam of (name)'s social standing. I will destroy (name)'s reputation among (name)'s few "friends," with whom (name) shared only jadedness and naïveté. I will make (name) rue the day (name) crossed me.

On my blog, I fight with flowery language. In the real world, I fight with fists and switchblades only when provoked. I know some things. I could break (name)'s arm or finger or give (name) a terrible concussion. Besides the obvious legal consequences and the fact I'd be thrown out of my house and expelled from Dickinson, I would gain nothing from the experience. Also, not being "Human Weapon" material, I'd probably hurt myself in the process. Last time I punched something, it was a wall, and I swear it punched back.

Basically, violence sucks. Violence is not a means to an end. So how, then, ought I to deal with this person? Some primal instinct tells me to club (name) into submission or run (name) through with a blade made from sabre-tooth tiger tusk. It's natural and scary. Humans seek to right their wrongs. Humans also seek to right those who wrong them. We are animals. We do this through force. Nowadays, we call it war and make it out to be a terrible scourge. Prehistorically, it was just how things were done.

I hate drama.

I mean besides theatre - I love watching plays but boy do I hate working behind the scenes. I can't deal with the people who work in the theatre at my school. They're full of crap. The person who fired me from the theatre talked at great length about his reasoning (without really saying anything) and in the process, contradicted himself twice and repeated the same thing four different ways. Then, having claimed to be interested in the problems I had with the others in the theatre, he dismissed my offer to explain as a futile effort that wouldn't change anyone's mind. Alrighty then. Mighty fine leadership figure there. Fuck it, I have better things to waste my time with. :)


But oddly, I see a lot of that in this case as well. Yeah I hate drama when I'm not watching it acted out on a stage. I absolutely despise drama when it involves me, though! This makes my blood boil, though. Talking shit about me to one of my only friends behind my back after throwing a heartfelt apology back in my face...(name) is a pathetic excuse for a human being. (name) had talked about (name)'s father and how he's a terrible person, etc, etc, and I believed (name). I had no reason not to...I mean, (name) was right about him. But talking to (name) and finding the worse to best express and articulate the apology that had been burning at my mind for so long - that made me cry. It really did, because I meant every word. I meant all of it - but that was then.

So hey, (name) - I'm not sorry. And if it means anything, those were fake tears. And you're actually weak and very dependent. Fat, too. I doubt you'll succeed in life with your 2.5 GPA. Oh, but I could be making that all up! Maybe I am sorry, maybe I was crying. Maybe you are strong and independent and beautiful and smart. How would you know if I'm being serious or not? How do you know what to believe? (hint: think about my values and then think about your own - oh wait...)

--

Holy shit. I really hope that no one is reading this particular post and using it as a gauge of my personality. I am not an angsty teenager! Far from it - I am far too anti-social to know large amounts of people and therefore have little to no right to stand in judgment on anyone else - simple because I don't know anyone else!

Oh, and also, my life doesn't suck. I am reminded of that every time I see my Gabriel. The way he smiles, the way he looks into my eyes, the way he carries serenity with him is all the conviction I need to carry on living like my problems don't exist to stop me, but to make me stronger.

Sure, the fog is dangerous when it's dark - but it makes a beautiful sunrise.

5-15-10 - JFB free speech without judgment