ROUGH

It's just getting harder and harder, guys.

I'm going through so many emotional trials right now; I feel like my whole body is going to explode. Basically though, it's just sadness. Like, unbearable sadness. And for once, I'm going to articulate it as a sort of counterpart to that previous novel of a post, rather than sort of let it all gush out uncontrollably. Here goes.

I'm still going through this whole thing with my dad, and my pressure to keep up with him and all, but that's not really it. Well, for now at least. My problem as of late is more in my social circle, rather than family circle.

So, I have this friend.
This friend probably knows who they are.
If they see this, I just might get some heat for it.
But, anyway.

So, my friend and I have known each other since last year, respectively. In fact, and this is a little weird, but I actually know the exact date and time when we met for the first time; it was August 5th 2011, at 6:42 pm. I know this because it was at a concert, and it was my first concert ever. I still have the flyer. And as my friend said my name, I was checking my watch. So, there ya have it. We didn't really ever get together during the summer. We had a class together when school started though, and we sat right next to each other.

By this point, this person ought to be certain it's them. Just pointing it out.

We got aquatinted, and we became friends really quickly. She even came over to my house every day for that entire week. It was great. And then, out of the blue, nothing. She stopped talking to me for a day. Just a day. Then, we were friends again. You may be saying, "Aw, James, a day ain't so bad. You'll cheer up." And you're most certainly right; I did. But that's aside the point. Point is, this became a pattern. Nothing too harsh; just that she wouldn't come over for a while, or I wouldn't go to her house, etc. We were still friends at school. So, our friendship waned a little every so often, only to wax a little more.
So, last weekend, I did fun stuff with this friend of mine. It was great. But now, this person won't talk to me. Avoids me like the plague. I know it's to be expected; part of the cycle. But the cycle hasn't ever gone this long. Don't know why; no idea what I did. In fact, the only thing this person has said to me in the entire week is "Hi James Talbot." Twice.

I'm dying, here, guys.

I'm confused.

So is he.

All these thoughts a-runnin' through my head...

I just want to point something out.

I'm an emotional tumbleweed. I am so easily swayed from happy to sad. Honestly. I was walking through the halls today, feeling like a million bucks, and one person gave me a strange look, and I took it to heart. The whole next period was the worst of my life. I honestly hated it so much. And I'm pretty sure the rest of my day was ruined as well. BECAUSE OF ONE LOOK.

So, y'all remember that post a while back? That one that was all, "Hey guys, I'm gonna change! Life's gonna be good!" Yeah, that is looking pretty far off right about now. So I think I'm gonna need all the help I can get to stay happy.

I hope this is sincere enough.

I don't know what I did to offend you.

But I'm truly sorry for it.

Sorry for the monotony.

Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysprrysorrysprrusorry.

Cuz you know, that's all I ever say.

Well, basically, this will just be a post about this weekend. Here we go, guys!

Friday was great. One of the best (if not THE best) days of my adolescence.
Saturday was decent.
Sunday sucked.

Essentially on Friday, me and a bunch of friends went to "prom" and it was so fun. The night consisted of getting Italian food that just might've been Spaghetti-O's and Hamburger Helper, then going to watch the real prom-goers at promenade, and getting gelato. And one could never forget the cheerful exclamations of "YOLO!"
and "420!" It was seriously the best night with the best people.

Saturday was pretty cluttered for me. I did some chores n' stuff, then I took some pictures of Michael Arts' band recording at Muse. It was kind of boring, not gonna lie; but at the same time, it was way cool to hear all the parts come together. After that, I played pool at the Danburry barber shop, and then went to film a video for Trevor Christensen. Then, me and my BFF/gay boyfriend James went aimlessly driving/stalking women with loud Mexican music playing. That was good. But then I got depressed for some reason (don't ask me why) and I just wanted to die a little. And before you knew it, I was listening to sad music and trying to fall asleep on my couch.

Sunday was just everything bad that happened on Saturday night times a million. I just got depressed, and started thinking about religion and stuff. I went to the mission farewell of a good friend, and the wheels in my mind wouldn't stop turning during his talk. I guess you could say I'm having doubts; you could also say I'm religiously bipolar. Some days, I'm just so happy that I'm like; "Dude! Life is so great! There's no way this isn't true!" And some days, like today, I was thinking so hard about everything that I just didn't even want to believe. So, I don't know, guys. I don't know how my life is gonna turn out. I don't know if my kids are gonna turn out as messed up as me. I don't know if I'm even gonna have kids. I don't even know if I'll even get married. I don't know if I'll ever even get a girlfriend.


However, I DO know that Monday will be 80 degrees and sunny. That'll be nice.

Anti-Prom.

So, like I said earlier, tonight was fun.

Never mind the last one.

I AM FREAKIN' HAPPY.

I don't even know why. But tonight, me and a bunch of peeps are doing a not prom. We're basically dressing up and getting dinner.

I'M WEARING 50'S CLOTHES AND DANCING TO JAZZ MUSIC AND I FEEL SOOOO GOOD!!!

So tonight'll be a ball.

Well, it was a good run...

I hate to say it, and I hate even more to write it for you to read, but I think my longest streak of happiness in a while is over. I won't say much, because all of you have lives and could care less, but my good day was sort of shattered right towards the end. And that got me thinking, and we all know what THAT does to me. So, essentially, I just hate my life right now. Sorry if I'm not cool. Which...Eh.

Nothing really.

Have you ever had one of those nights where you've been happy all day, and then all of a sudden, you get hit head on by a train with a big old frowny face on the front? I sure have. I'm suuuuure you'd all just LOVE to hear about my millions of problems, but I'm afraid I'll have to keep you waiting another blog post or two. Right now, it's midnight on Monday. I have school in the morning. My alarm is set to 6:15; I don't plan on waking up then. If I had it my way, I'd like to wake up at nine every day, to go to school for an hour or two, and then go skateboarding and bike riding and painting with lots of friends. Again, not happening anytime soon. Remember that thing I said, about waiting to hear about my problems? Yeah, I changed my mind. So, if you've been satisfied with the post so far and don't want to become depressed by hearing my awful tales of pathetic woe, stop reading now. NOW, DUDE. I'M GONNA TALK ABOUT MY PROBLEMS IN THIS BLOG POST, GUYS. I'm just doing this because a real good friend of mine once told me to write down my problems, and they'll go away. It's worked so far. The vast majority of my friends don't understand me. In fact, looking at my followers, even fewer than I thought. That's not to say I don't love you all; I do. But most of you haven't even known me for a year yet. If you've ever read John Knowles' A Separate Peace, you must know that I am basically Gene. I jump to massive, unnecessary conclusions...and kill my BFF. But all jokes aside. That's one of my big issues that I'll be working on, as mentioned in that novel of a post the other day. Going back to being misunderstood. Because I think too much, I always have a lot to say. But, because I jump to conclusions so easily, I never really say what I'm thinking. If I ever respond to an iffy question with "Oh, I don't know," or "Let me think about it," I DO know, and I HAVE thought about it. But it's all going on under the surface, which means...eh... Well, that's basically it. I feel a lot better now. A LOT!!!! All of my friends, even those of you who don't know me, I LOVE YOU. ALL A YA! I hope we can all get to be better friends than we already are. (Unless of course you're a bro, in which case my hatred for you is unparalleled.) --@NotJamesTalbot

Not anything special. Just the daily report...I s'pose.

My last post was pretty dramatic. Well, by my standards at least. It was a essentially a long, unnecessary schpeel about why I was happy. And that's not bad. I like happy. I was trying to remain happy all day long. I was just thinking to myself, "Don't make that novel redundant." So, as a little report,

TODAY WAS A FANTASTIC DAY.

I'm happy. I love everyone. I wish I could make a list of all the people that make me happy. But it is just too long. So, if your first or last name begins with A-Z, just know that I love you.



...unless of course you're a bro. Then I hate you.
(but in a loving/contemptuous way)

--Jimothy

I know you're sick of me...

Yes, my fair readers (both of you), I know this is my third blog today. But, for once, I'm genuinely happy. I feel like if I write down why I'm so chipper, I'll stay that way. HERE'S HOPING!

As I reflect on how awful this past week has been, I've started to analyze it to find what exactly has been the cause of my melancholy. In English, I'm trying to figure out why I was sad. I've spent the entire day pondering, and I think I've come to a suitable conclusion.

I THINK TOO MUCH.

I'm in that perplexing situation of my father being a borderline genius. I don't mean to toot his horn for him, but he's got a PhD, he is fluent in 7 languages, he's a professor of Ancient Latin and Greek, and his poetry is published in the highest-esteemed magazines in the world almost weekly. So, as his son, I'm in a weird place. I'm so pressured to be knowledgeable in all situations. It's really no big deal; I like being pressured into being smart. I ain't got no problem. But I've chosen a unique demographic for company. Again, in English: I got kinda weird friends. Most of them are absorbed in music, and the sort of music they listen to is powerful. It can sway your mood. So, take an introverted intellectual (like myself) who is pressed to think deeply about every situation, and pair him with music that can press Pee-Wee Herman to suicide. The result: yours truly. When you've got this cake batter of my life all stirred up, then you add some extra toppings in, like bullies, fake friends, a household pressing you to be a genius, a mother who wants you to have a 4.0 every term, and a severely broken heart, and you're all set to bake (figuratively, of course. I'm not on drugs, no matter what my art portrays)! So, that (mostly the last ingredient. Like a lot. A LOT, GUYS.), among some other pettier things I've already discussed, is why I'm always sad.

So, I'm making a decision.

From now on, I'm gonna try. I'm gonna be the cool, under-the-water (is that a thing?...I assume it means cool, if it is...), nonchalant yet caring, sweet and sensitive dude that everyone loves. Yeah, that's a freakin' tall order, you say. And you may say further, "How're you gonna fill this tall order, James? I mean, you're great and lanky and I wanna marry you (Mary) and all, but how on Earth will you become Ryan Gosling overnight?" Well, dear readers, both of you, I'm not. It'll take a while. Gimme a chance, but even more, gimme some time. I'll be better. You'll like me. I'll like you. So, world, Mumsy, Papa, Eva, Mary, Finn, Tyler, Nayma, Gabrielle and Camille, and whoever else cares...


HERE GOES NOTHING.
Hope you enjoy the cake.

GONZ

I sort of really love this. And Mark Gonzales is amazing.

This is me trying to be my dad.

Persona-an attempt at a poem.

We all have something to be concealed.
It could be a secret life, a lover, several misdoings.
We go to such great lengths to keep these hidden,
But why? How wonderful would our world be
If no one had anything to hide?
Thieves would be put behind bars quickly.
Priests and pastors could ascend without guilt.
Honest folks would have nothing to worry about.
It would be a trustworthy world.
A kind world.
A gracious world.
A forgiving world.
But, alas. That isn't how
It's supposed to be, is it.
We all have things to hide. We build secrets
Around that singular idea of ours to keep people guessing.
No matter how hard we try, we can't help
But cover up our faults.
And what do people use to cover faults?
Makeup, of course!
People's personas are their makeup.
The more glamorous, the better, right?
The thicker it's applied, the deeper the underlying problem is.
That's the common idea.
But don't think that's only for cheap hookers and sleazy motel night managers.
So, to you, reader, I present a question.
Why is a persona so important?
What's better than your honest-to-goodness self?
This is purely a matter of opinion.
But obviously, we all need a persona.
To some degree at least.
It's a necessity in this, our petty existence.

{Titled.}

These last few days have been really rough. Of course they have, I'm me. Essentially, I've had those constant feelings that I'm not good enough, etc. I was talking to my friend today, and she was talking about how lonely she was, and how she thought everyone would forget her. I gave her what I thought was one hell of a pep talk, and she said she felt better. So I got thinking, "Why don't I? Why can't I take my own advice?" I tried. I can't. I sound so dumb right now.

I swear, Drew Danburry has a window into my soul. Honestly. If ever you are with me, and I'm not happy, listen to the song "It Starts with Indigo, Orange and Green." Listen to the lyrics, and without fail, that is the reason why. That's always the reason.

I wish I was like my dad, and I always had something profound to say, and everyone loved me.

But we all know that's not happening.

Insufficient.

So, as I said in the last post, this will be a blog about how I feel. Tonight, I'm not feeling so hot.

I can't help but think of how inadequate I am. Or rather, how inadequate compared to others, who seem to have no flaws, in my eyes and in the eyes of others. I try my best in everything, in art, in skateboarding, other stuff like that. But all the while, everyone else is ten steps ahead. I feel like I'm not taken seriously because I'm not good enough for people to be interested. I don't want to be mean and tell people about how insensitive they are, but I can't bring myself to do it, because then, they won't like me anymore. Even though they probably didn't before.

Disclaimer: Well, I'm nothing special.

I'm mainly just making this blog for the same reason everyone else made a blog: to post about my feelings. So, reader, if you're there, you're in for a sappy ride. Hold on to your hat.