Rivers.

Leaves.

Cuomo.

Autumn.

But it's winter!

Still...

Rivers and Leaves.

Cuomo duo.

Duo.

God of Death.

Aahhh, Winter.

(All of the above was the product of a very whacked session of word association, some daytime fantasies about the lead singer of Weezer, and too many episodes of Gundam Wing.)

~AF

Typewriters annoy me. It's a mark of real modernism, especially in a writer, when a computer is preferred over a good old-fashioned typewriter. I don't know what it is about computers...they fascinate me. Information stored in tiny chips no bigger than a pinky nail, and yet they can control and even destroy lives.

More so than this advanced technology we experience with computers, there's the relative face of secrecy. One can only take other entities as they come: don't assume, and assumptions won't make things hard. So on and so forth.

The third, and biggest reason I absolutely love computers is: It gives me complete freedom from reality. Of course, it only applies when I stay away from news websites...which I always try to do. Freedom from society, as the title suggests, is elusive when you are constantly surrounded by people who wish to know every aspect of your life.

I think He is the only one I can really talk to, really connect with, although I think our relationship has simmered down to platonic friendship. I still feel little twinges every time I see him, but to me it's rather normal. It's okay, though, because I think it's healthier this way. If we were to force a relationship it could lead to a blowout, fallout, like the Whig party in 1850.

Oh, that's the honors government talking. We've been paired off in groups for mock-presidential debates, on various issues that plagued the nation back before the Civil War. It's astonishing how so many people have so many misconceptions about the antebellum period. The whole country was raised on racism, no joke. Northerners were perhaps even more prejudiced against blacks than Southerners were. Unfortunately, I have the part of Senator Seward, from South Carolina. He was almost fascist in his beliefs about slavery.

Wish me luck in this reluctant endeavor.

Novel is coming along a bit slowly because of homework.

~AF

I began my novel two weeks ago, and I've written two chapters of it, both roughly fifty pages. That's around a hundred pages total, not bad for two weeks.

Let me start over:

Writing has been one of my only passions of this year. I dropped the band (they had an excess of guitarists anyway), I dropped volleyball (I decided I really didn't have the time), and I dropped about half my acquaintences. Now what's left? Me, Him, the computer, and 100 sheafs of manuscript.

It seems almost paradoxical; I resent myself for this alienation, and yet I'm absolutely enthralled with bringing this to life. I'm by no means proficient, or even qualified for writing (anyone who knows me knows how much trouble I have with finding the right word), but it's a lifelong dream that is somehow more fulfilling than the highest grade on a physics test. I pine for it.

But anyway, that's what has been taking up so much of my time that I haven't written in so long. Lo siento.

~AF

What's the difference between going deaf from 36-amp concerts or going crazy from the silence? I think winter's settled in; I can usually tell from the twitch in my nose every morning and the way his breath puffs out like a cloud as we're walking to school. Autumn and winter are my two favorite seasons, for different reasons: Autumn is alive but transient, like humans themselves, but winter is silent. The world is still, and everything hints at frozenness.

This is making me nostalgic. Last year, at this time, I had been desperately wishing for snow; now it's the exact same. I've changed so much...and yet nothing has changed. There are new people in my life, and yet the old characters remain. Sometimes I wish for there to be something else to talk about - why does no one wonder about the workings of the human mind any more? Everyone chooses to obsess over secret snipers, impending war (however unjustified), and the new Eminem movie. What is it with people?

Material capitalism manifests itself every day; it's no big secret, it's not in hiding. People simply do not choose to acknowledge it. It makes me positively sick - to see the hypocrisy and utter inanity with which people act. All for a good cause, of course. One *cannot* deny that the benifits of a capitalist system are plenty. However, one cannot also "rage against the machine," so to speak, so ultimately that realism does not factor into the equation. Is there a point to attending an anti-capitalist rally during lunch while dressed in USA-manufactured clothes and Birkenstocks? This, my friends, would be folly - proving the opponents' point instead of your own.

I'm not speaking against anyone in particular, only the Marxists at my school. Things have to be made, people have to be hired. Don't let your cause get the better of you, please. I see this every day, and it's fucking sad.

~AF

P.S. I just realized that I haven't written anything on the actual "Art of Pining" in awhile, so I should probably get back to that next time I write. Things are just so hectic and the world is in such turmoil. It really...[pauses dramatically] hits the heartstrings. ^_^

War is hell. I have to admit, up until now I have been a silent radical. I think about political issues, but I choose not to comment publicly on them. Is that so bad? It's not that I'm anti-Bush (which, technically, is an incorrect statement, because we all know that Cheney is the *real* president with Bush as his little puppet) or unpatriotic, but you all have to admit that the government is in a sad state at this point.

In Article II of the Constitution, one of the powers invested in Congress is the power to declare war. Not the president, not the executive branch, but CONGRESS. And look what's happening now - Congress in the past century has repeatedly alienated itself from exercising those powers, and just look at the state of foreign diplomacy now.

The way I see it, there are better solutions for the current oil situation than invading Iraq and making it a little American colony. (Don't even try and argue that this farce isn't about oil; it has *everything* to do with it.) Instead of relying on oil-and-fuel driven cars, why don't we invest the $27 million it will take to actually wage a war against Iraq in a rehaul in Detroit? That way both foreign policy and environmental issues will be eased.

Of course, I realize that there are potential problems with the rehaul option - people are so used to gas stations, that blaring 76 sign waving from every other street corner, but hey - we are destroying the earth, peoples.

Or how about this, you right-wing Fascists: what will happen if we *do* wage war against Iraq? Either we fail miserably and leave anti-American ideas even more deeply rooted in Middle Eastern countries, or we prevail (hey, they rhyme). Sure, not so bad, eh? WRONG. Terrorism will be spurred even if we do win; terrorist cells will spring up in the secret Iraqi underground or from beneath Osama's protecting wings. We make Iraq a protectorate or whatever the fuck they call them nowadays (stupid "politically correct" speech writers, they can all go to Hell), and they will hate us even more. There is no way on earth we can totally get rid of anti-American sentiments; the seeds had been planted long ago. We make Iraq into a gigantic strip mall or a gigantic apartment complex - no one's going to stop us but ourselves. At this point, UN is completely impotent and useless.

Last but equally important: where did Saddam Hussein get those weapons? Who sold the materials to him? Those were both rhetorical, of course - WE DID. We, America, the champions of democracy and whatnot, we did this to ourselves. We the people chose to elect a president (who, ironically, shares the same genes as our current president) who knowingly *gave* Iraq the power and resources to become a nuclear threat. Is the world America's playing ground? Do we truly believe that we are the most powerful? (Because, let me tell you, the Middle East has some lethal weaponry, both militaristic and biological, that far exceeds what we *think* we have here.) Is oil our prerogative, has it suddenly become a natural right?

Don't even get me started on human rights issues.

~AF

It feels like winter. Maybe it's an location thing, but it seems like summer melded into winter and passed over autumn completely! Which is a shame because, out of all the seasons, autumn is the most honest, most human. Sorry to be so lyrical, but it's true. Humans are indecisive and finicky and trite, and so is autumn. To me, autumn is merely the transition and not really a season at all; summer and winter, the extremes, are the true seasons. But what about spring? Spring represents Genesis, in my opinion - when things are born (reborn?) and fertility is supposed to flourish. It's lovely, but way too optimistic in my opinion.

Don't get me wrong, I like winter. But it's just that this year saw a missed fall, and I regret it.

~AF

...For anyone who actually reads this, I'm sorry for not updating earlier. It's been two weeks, and...geh.

Homecoming was...nice, I guess. I liked spending time with him, but I didn't like the acutal event much. It was like I thought, all materialism and capitalism, with nothing of substance to urge school spirit, which is what I *though* Homecoming was supposed to be about. I don't even know if we won the game or not. I think he was thinking the same thing, so we left early and went to get ice-cream sundaes. I guess we're lucky to have an ice-cream parlor (an actual, old-fashioned one with the candy stripes and everything) so close to school.

He kissed me on the cheek, which I was grateful for. I don't know how I would have reacted if he kissed me on the lips. But yeah...we hugged, and that was all. The transition from Homecoming and all that formal dress and courtesy to normal school life was surprisingly smooth and not awkward at all; the only change in all of this is that we do our homework together in the library during lunch now. I've found that doing some of my easier assignments at school gives me less of a load to carry home and slave over. Now if only I could find a way to do some more homework at *work*...sort of impossible, since I've moved to the café, into that other, more distant guy's position.

The aroma in there is extremely homey, and very calming, as if coffee and biscotti could solve the world's problems. Why don't we try it on Osama bin Ladin and Saddam Hussein? Give them gift certificates to masseurs (the willing ones, anyway) and serve them homemade coffee and nice vanilla-almond biscotti. I think that's the world's problem - we take ourselves too seriously and never think to stop and enjoy what's in front of us. We have been continuously developing hybrid and electric cars, and what's this war we're about to wage? Over OIL. It's utterly stupid. And no one can deny that OIL *is* one of the driving forces behind Bushy's little "crusade." How utterly pointless.

I'm glad I took Government Honors instead of regular. Everyone in my class is so intelligent, so able. Apt pupils we are.

~AF

Heh. Heh heh. I don't think I can write. I'm too excited. I never thought I'd be able to ask him (and when the time came it was honestly very awkward), but I managed somehow and he said he'd actually been wanting to ask me but didn't know how. It was flattering, but I'm glad that it's over and done with.

T-minus 7 days, 1 hour.

~AF

Homecoming is in two weeks. Normally, I wouldn't bother since at our school the event is notoriously expensive because we hire a whole bunch of professionals, but this year I have a chance at getting a date! Besides, it's my senior year, and I should at least experience it for myself before writing it off as a bureaucratic hoax.

Um...yes. Anyway. He and I get along really well, and I'm starting to really fall for him, I think. He moved into my English Honors class, so now I see him there as well as in physics. He's nice, funny in a quirky way (a la John Leguizamo and his funky-ass accents), and passionate about what he does - web design. He showed me the links to a couple of domains he owns and...my god...they're gorgeous. He's nailed both the aesthetic and the utilitarian aspects of web pages. One of the pages was a personal page with his photography (he has some breathtaking shots) and a story he was working on, and he asked me to beta-read it. The plot is gripping and constantly twisting, although the character development could use some work. I took a risk and told him so, and he didn't erupt on me; instead he thanked me.

I *will* snag a date for Homecoming. And it *will* be him. Him.

~AF

So...school has started (today was our first day). And...I'm back to that old routine - meet, gaze, and obssess. But first let me tell you about what happened with Mr. Bookstore Guy:

Nothing.

Anti-climatic, eh? Well, he stopped coming to work a couple of weeks ago, and I found out that he went back to college. That really surprised me, since I was under the assumption that he was my age, in my situation. But I guess he was older than he seemed. I don't know whether to be relieved or not - I still *really* want to meet him, but on the other hand nothing romantic could ever come out of it because of the age gap. Well, technically it's only two or three years, but I think at this age it makes a lot of difference. But yes. Enough about him; summer's burden has been removed from my shoulders.

Besides the job (which I'm still doing every weekend), I did nothing this summer...well, I went to the Weezer concert (I had good seating!), where I obssessed over Rivers Cuomo and the guy sitting in the row in front of me, and I re-read a couple of my old favorites (Clockwork Orange, 1984, Animal Farm, The Jungle, etc.). But besides that...nothing. The only book I had to read for Honors English was The Grapes of Wrath, but I had already done that before summer vacation started. I attempted a few bits of poetry and song (for the band), but failed miserably, as usual. Three-quarters of the band was on vacation (meaning only I stayed at home), so there were no practices or anything, and I decided not to try out for volleyball, which was more my knees' decision than mine. >_<

But here we are, off the subject yet again. It's only been one day of school, and already I have found the next victim for my haywire adoration sensors. Or whatever you want to call them. He sits in front of me in physics (no AP for me; I'm stupid in science), and I think he transferred in from a boarding school somewhere up north. He's got hair that looks like strands of chocolate, and eyes like little pools of forever. You know what forever looks like, right? It's that vague swirl of blue and grey like a cloudy day. Well, at least that's always what I thought it would look like. And that's how I'd describe his eyes - just that swirl of blue and grey. I don't think I've ever mentioned it, but I absolutely love it when the sky's overcast. There's nothing more beautiful than the sight of pale masses of Sky. Unfortunately, that awe-striking scene is usually accompanied by rain. What a waste of good weather.

But anyway (I digressed again, silly me), we actually made conversation. See, the physics teacher has these odd quirks - he's really into Friendship and Acceptance and Peace and all that other shit. (I guess it's not shit, but oh well.) So we spent the entire period "getting to know" our "fellow classmates and comrades in learning." His exact words. We agreed that it was very "hippie-ish." So yeah, so far I can't sense any awful traits coming from him, so I'll just plow blindly around and maybe I'll stumble across a four-leaf clover that'll finally give me luck in the realm of Relationships.

He is beautiful.

~AF

Fridays are the lonliest of the whole week. Fridays I get to stay home and vegetate. Fridays I embrace the computer geek in me. Fridays I don't see him. Fridays run like molasses on a rusty gear, to mix similies.

Amabat, amare timebat.

Translated, that means "he loved, and was afraid to love." Now, children, who could we apply that nice little phrase to? Me? But I flatter myself! Self-analysis is so overrated, just like Fridays.

Fuck. I don't care anymore. I can't concentrate, and I can't type. I just want this day to be over. I can't stand this.

~AF

Summer. The resting time. A reverse kind of hibernation...A time to pine. Why do I insist on this kind of self-torture? Don't I have enough to worry about without the added burden of Feelings and Emotions? Can't I just live in substance but not form? I suppose that's another plus-side of the internet. Unless you send images of yourself, you don't have a body that people attribute you to...you can be anything you want. That's what I don't like about the real world: You are what others perceive you as, and for people like me - introverted but brim full of ideas and opinions - it's a fucking Catch-22, man. They all formulate their opinions of you, and then your own unwillingness to correct their assumptions lead you in this goddamn downward spiral that never ends and ends only when you die. Oh shit, I feel a drunken episode coming on, but fuck that, right?

You know, I thought getting out and getting a job would allow me to meet some nice, decent guys. I work in a bookstore now, and there's this guy who works in the cafe half the week. He's polite, respectful, but he's also got a sense of humor. And...he avoids me - and hell, all people - like the plague. He's not gay, not that I know of, but it seems he just likes keeping to himself. Sound familiar? Yeah. I felt like I was looking in to a goddamn mirror the first time he gave an evasive answer and skipped off to the bathroom. He's *exactly* like me. I'm attracted to him because he's intelligent and nice...is he similarly attracted to me? How would I know. I always prided myself on being the ambiguous one in relationships - a stereotypical mouse with too many activities lined up when getting invited somewhere but too much time on her hands when she's sitting like a doorknob in front of the computer...but this time it seems like I've met my match. You know, we could be something; quite the couple.

I saw him behind the counter reading a battered copy of 1984 yesterday - one of my favorite books. (George Orwell is God.) So, after my shift, I bought my usual mocha latte and sat down to read...guess what? Animal Farm. Second copy of it. I was hoping that maybe he'd notice and it would pique his interest...maybe we'd strike up a conversation...but he seemed to be so fucking absorbed in the goddamn coffee machine. Damn modern appliances. If I dress up in double-shined chrome, will he notice me then? The problem is...I'd never do it.

~AF

P.S. Pardon for the raving and the cursing. I'm a tad bit drunk...thank god for spellcheck.

Arg. I *did* write something - a masterpiece compared to my other stuff - but stupid antville freaking deleted it! I'll attempt to recreate it, but there's no telling if it'll turn out the same. Damn!

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Ah, the end of the school year. A time to sign yearbooks (I hate them - I never know what to write), stress about finals (I did pretty well on mine), and, of course, gain closure. The year has gone by so fast; in February it felt like December, in April it felt like December, and now it still feels like December. Why? Why does my mind always go back to December, to HIM? I've liked him for half the school year, and I don't know why or how it got to be this bad. I usually don't go for this type of yearning, if you will, but this year seemed to be different than the rest. We never talked to each other much; the closest I got was tripping over his foot during finals - he merely chuckled, and so I chuckled back at him and went away. How convenient? He's not really my type either. I mean, this isn't one of those "popular guy/geeky girl" situations. I'd like to think of myself as pretty well-rounded, albeit lacking in the Physical Development Department. It's just that our school's social structure is ridiculously rigid. In fact, my whole community's like that - the middle class white male is still the holder of power, as old-fashioned as it may be. I hate my school. There is virtually NO interaction between "cliques" (how cliche), and my friends don't really appreciate his friends, and stuff like that. As I said, I hate my school. And where I live too.

Anyway. Back to my pining. He's a really nice person and a funny guy (I think we even listen to the same music - info wrought from my elementary eavesdropping skills), but the only thing I've managed is to sneak glances at him and peek at him discreetly during Homeroom. And of course, me being pathetic little me, I decided to dramatize everything and attempt to write him an anonymous letter, which I would slip into his locker sometime. And, me being half-illiterate me, it turned out like chicken shit so I ripped it up and gave up. I hate myself for not being able to write my own feelings coherently and eloquently without consulting my thesaurus (I'm on my second copy, by the way), but it's life and I had better deal with it. The point is, even if I had written a decent confession of my feelings, I wouldn't have had the goddamn courage to actually deliver it. I'm such a coward, emotionally at least, and if I could kick myself in the ass I would have killed myself by now.

So I had this genious idea. Since none of my friends read this blog anyway (it was mostly a personal project to begin with, and to whomever reviewed it, I'm eternally gratified and I'll try to update more now that school's out), I'll just confess right here.

____ _____, I like you and I have for half the school year. Closure is not easy to gain, especially when I can't even talk to you because of stupid societal customs and other such crap like that, but I must if I'm to go on normally with my life and not pine away like a tree (forgive the puns - I'm going to therapy for this, I promise), wasting away the summer with distracting thoughts of you. So I guess this is it, and I'll probably see you in my dreams sometime or another. Bye.

See, that was horrible! I think I'll go bash my head into a wall or something. And then, of course, go gaze at his picture in the yearbook. >_<

This time, I'm not taking any chances and copying this first. In case a certain website host decides to be retarded again. *coughantvillecough* Right - this didn't come out as well as the original, but there's nothing I can do about that. [glares]

~AF

I suppose you can all figure out that I'm enraptured by the internet and all the possibilites. I have to admit, though, the anonymity works best when meeting new people, especially guys. My parents haunt me for this - "What if they're lying? How do you *know* they're guys?" - I mean, what the hell, does it matter? I'm not looking for a freaking relationship, for god's sake. It's so much easier talking to a nameless, faceless entity about personal problems than it would be with anyone I actually knew. I've accumulated a wealth of relevant information/guidance/input on my life and all my problems from these people, and all I can do to thank them is to cyber-shake their hand or something. So, a big shout out to all my e-friends. I love you all, and may you always be free from viruses.

I don't think I could ever fall in love with someone I met online unless I met him first. I guess my parent's warnings do get to me - I'm always cautious never to give away *too* much information. I could admire him and appreciate our conversations, but I could never let me feel anything but friendship and gratitude unless I could talk to him in person. One of the things I've always valued most in a relationship, whether with friends or guys, is being able to make eye contact. If there's no eye contact, there will always be a gulf, an awkwardness to the whole situation. Of course, I could always just get the other person to send me a picture through direct connect or something, but it seems rather inane and half-baked to gaze soulfully into a picture that ends with .jpg. It's like guys having sex with blowup dolls. Same principle.

Whee...well, gotta go to bed; I'll write more later.

~AF