Tuesday, April 22, 2003

The song "Summertime" by The Sundays makes me smile and gets me all excited for summer.

There are no good people and there are no bad people. Just good actions and bad actions and how many more of one type you have than the other. It's our humanity that makes us do both. That thought popped into my head between classes today. Randomly. I had been thinking about ice cream before that.

I spent Easter in Boston with Tim's family. Pretty sweet. Plenty cold. Saw a Red Sox game (complete with "Go Nomah!" chants, multiple bleacher fights, and lots of yelling). Saw a Revolution game (Major League Soccer...my first time seeing a professional soccer game). Lots of food all weekend. Good times.

I'd love to look inside the heads of all the girls I've ever liked to see if they ever really knew how much power they had over me.

I called my grandfather the other day to wish him happy birthday. He told me he really appreciated the call and my mom told me the same thing later (she spent the day with him). Makes me wish I had a different relationship with him, where it wouldn't mean as much that I called him and I knew more about him.

I'm extremely jealous of families that are, for lack of a better term, very open with one another. I understand the need for at least some sense of role and postion in parenting and/or grandparenting, but I just like the honesty of family members who tell each other exactly how they are feeling and what they are doing and cut past the formalities and the generation gaps are bridged. I don't care how old or young you are, we all feel the same things (it's just how we've been trained to express them).

My friend Liz is someone who is always fun to have around. Not that she doesn't have her range of moods just like everyone else, but her mere presence lightens a room. It's awesome. I feel like I had that for a long time growing up. I was the silly, funny guy who would lighten the mood of everywhere I was and if nothing else you would be having fun with me. Somewhere along the way I developed a penchant for the macabre and a inclination towards the melancholy. Perhaps the change in my demeanor came from a desire to be taken seriously, for people to know that my emotions weren't ALWAYS silly and happy, that I felt pain and sorrow and longing and desire and anger too. I feel as though I've lingered in the serious too long, that perceptions of me are off. It's like the celebrated comedy actor doing a drama to gain universal recognition and respect, but then staying in drama. Comedy doesn't come as easy to me anymore, I can't throw out one-liners as well, I can't tell jokes (though I never could anyway), and my comedic delivery is sub personal par.

Maybe it's setting. This shift came to complete fruition in college. Maybe it will shift again going back home for good.

If you want to discuss the major intellectual issues of the universe, I'm with you, I can hang naturally. But if I'm the one bringing up the topic, I think I'm realizing and accepting that my inclination will be to talk about how funny it is that the guy sitting behind us in the booth just farted.