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I know I promised the Kate that I would update her on the Zach situation via blog AS SOON AS I GOT HOME, but things sort of got in the way of that.
1.) I am taking care of Sam, a dog down the street. He’s HUGE, but a slobbery sweetheart. I should blog about the greatness of the canine someday.
2.) Patrick, who is in 4th grade, came over. He broke his garage door opener and couldn’t get inside his house. We took the cover off because we had to fix it, and the “magnet stick” thing was not where it should be. Mom thought it needed new batteries. It didn’t.
I’d never seen the inside of a garage door opener before. They’re a lot less boring than one’d imagine. You’d think that the only thing in there would be an IC transmitter or something else that you couldn’t play with. BUT no, it had three fixed capacitors and a variable, probably to make sure the garage door that you’re opening is indeed your garage door. They had a transistor; don’t ask which type, I didn’t cut it off to find out, and the button was fairly interesting. We put the magnet back where it belonged, withOUT the help of the overused and trusty paper clip, but I relented and showed him that the stick indeed did have a magnet inside of it by using a paper clip. XS
We went outside, and I didn’t put the magnet on far enough down the tube. Slowly, we kept pressing the button while moving the magnet until it was adjusted to the point where the garage opened. At this point, we put the cover back on the case, and the opener was fixed.
3.) Christy stopped over to tell me something that I can’t tell any of you online because Zach sometimes, er… a lot of times, reads my blogs. And he can’t hear about that. Christy wants me to ask him to e-mail her, but it’s not going to happen. What is wrong with this universe? Is anyone, including me, not allowing emotions to get in the way?!? I’m starting to wonder what it would be like to be a sociopath—Then I wouldn’t care.
Ah, the great crime of APATHY—There would be no world problems if everybody cared. Ignorance is bliss.
4.) I had to organize an "Emergency" Robotics Club meeting at my house because we have no code for the competition. Update will follow.
Back on target, the ZACH issues.
It’s hard to start from the beginning because there are a number of little tributaries coming together and culminating in this one, really great event. Well, I think it’s great. Zach just rolled his eyes. He does that, don’t hold it against him. It’s not a crime, or anything.
The day of the fight, the blog that had been blogged two days ago, I promised to keep Pete/you all updated. I’m not sure which. No, I don’t always remember what I wrote, in the same way you can’t always remember what you’ve told someone. Or yelled, for that matter. :S
So, yesterday Zach and I talked more about the issues of “my lack of teamwork.” Because no one in the group thought that I would get pizazz-ish… (That’s not a word, by the way. The suffix is totally just tacked onto the word.) I get where he comes from, but still can’t believe he’s trying to put restraints on my creativity. ONE CANNOT IMPOSE LIMITS WHERE LIMITS ARE NOT IMPOSED!!!
Something really struck me, though, during the conversation. The blog of our fight was MEAN, BITTER, and I wrote it in tears. Actually, I just reread it, and it's not bad at all. Still, I was emotional, very hurt and metaphorically writhing. In RORAQ’s words, “Hurt beasts tend to fight back.” I was angry, upset, and injured. So instead of staying away from pens or venting personally in my green book or muse book, I blogged it. My emotions, anger, and fight went onto the Internet for all to read.
My point is that in my highly emotional state, I viciously attacked him. Repeatedly. And what struck me during the conversation was as follows;
He was almost understanding. No, he WAS. As if he understood my perspective rather than being blinded by all of this fire and acid with which I wrote the past two blogs (Well, please read the past two blogs, and judge for yourself). The word that really must be used here is, Mature. Much moreso than the time when this fight first started. He didn’t discuss my injustices toward him; He discussed the debate of the day before, in a calm, real way. Not a “realistic” way, but a REAL way. (There is a difference—One is merely a perspective, the other is a fact, things are as they are.)
Unfortunately, I did not digest or come to terms with his sagacious or mature attitude during school. RORAQ and I discussed the whole fight. RORAQ hadn’t been reading my blog, but before he came to the meeting as of yesterday, (Another thing Zach hasn’t discussed with me is my stupidity when it came to describing “Pillowless camping.”) RORAQ had caught up on his reading.
He said, quoted accurately, “Dandelion, I know that Dandelions taste bitter. BUT you, my Dandelion, need to stay sweet as the buttercups. Who have you become in the last two days?” Yes, I started crying. It was a horribly wounding thing to say. This was also before I reread everything I wrote, and I thought that, in my anger, I put horrible things on the internet. I was imagining all of my rage being transformed into hot words. It wasn't as bad as I'd imagined, but still. RORAQ is worse than Zach in the bleary-eye department, when he wants to be. The words cut like daggers.
It was my turn to be the jerk. While Zach did deserve the harsh criticisms I gave him, from being self-rightious to argumentable. WELL, the "bitter" word could be debated, depending on whether one thinks that the first two little fights after the break-up revealed bitterness. Yes, I had indirectly insulted him a number of times, but they were all based on fact. While it was arguable whether they ARE fact, (Zach would probably say that they aren't, like a heresy starts with an iota of truth and builds twists and lies from there,) but they had some truth in them. BUT whether or not he is what I call him, whether or not he's a jerk, whether or not ANYTHING,
That does not give me the right to be bitter about it.
That does not give me the permission to tear him down. (Read it--I don't know if I did that. What do you think?)
I do have the right to express my viewpoints, though, protected by the first amendment.
He was very antagonizing in school today, saying that I called most of my high school peers "boring sociopaths." Comprehensively, he's twisting my words. Again. The offending line in question was, "If Zach thinks my friends are too weird for him, than he must prefer the boring sociopaths of society. Either that, or he prefers to obtain the monopoly of wit..." It traces its bitter origin to the fact that Zach thinks all of my friends are bad, horrible people, and not good influences. He bases his conclusion on the very few people that he's met; A bubbly Bead, a very nosy neighbor, and a very close friend who advocated our break up, and acted with horrible, swearing e-mails because she knew he wasn't right for me.
One thing he forgot when all “MY friends are great, his aren’t” speech—many of my friends are his, too. The first few words are "if Zach thinks MY friends..." Granted, in the emotional state, I classified them as “ONLY mine” when they’re not, but he thinks I’ve insulted most of my High School. Come to wonder about it (and talking about friends), how many friends outside of Our High School does he have? He has few neighborhood friends, and doesn’t even know many of the people around his neighborhood. He probably has quite a lot from grade school and parish, though. The question remains, how often do they talk? I guess the answer remains to be irrelevant. Still, it makes me angry when he insults all of my friends on account of one (very close) friend who tried to get us to break up for the longest time by sending Zach horrible, cursing, scathing e-mails. And he thinks RORAQ is strange. He is. BUT that does not give him the right to downplay the people I surround myself with on the not-school world. (Does Zach have a not-school world? BOY SCOUTS! And probably gradeschool/parish stuff, too. I don’t know. He doesn’t often discuss such matters, and neither do I.) No, I did not insult my friends at High School.
RORAQ had the entire blog analyzed, and I asked him about Realism. He laughed at me and said that he was a realist. My mouth dropped. RORAQ is a realist, how about that. :S
This was his blog verdict; “You’re bitter toward him, and you still like him.” Naturally, I objected. I saw bitter, that made sense. But where do you get the feelings-for-him bit? That could not possibly be found in there! Once again, he proved it. I won’t go into that, though, in case Zach would be reading this. He doesn’t need to know that. And he can’t wrestle that information from me. I dare him to. :P
We talked about the blog awhile, and he told me to be careful in how I word things. He knows that I say things exactly the way they come to mind, and I don’t edit at all. BUT I should be careful, and maybe reread what I write once in a while, or slightly altered messages from the true meaning may surface. (The friends paragraph above could definitely use some proofreading work to make it less choppy, but I won’t bother.) Words are tricky like that, where they can so easily be twisted against you and handcuff you to a wall. He said he thoroughly enjoyed all of them, most especially the first few.
He commented on a number of things besides the words themselves;
1.) He sees a perceptible change from the beginning to the most recent that shows a “Rotting” (his word and not mine) of my opinion of Zach. He acknowledged the fact that most of the blogs were written in highly emotional states (WHY do I do that? I’m such an idiot!), but I should watch it because Zach, said RORAQ himself, “doesn’t seem to me like the scum of the Earth, so don’t let him slip too low. Yeah, so he's not good at presenting your faults. So what.” He wasn’t implying that I treated Zach like the scum of the earth, but my recent bitterness is still not a good sign. Naturally, I objected to his ideas; respect cannot be applied in this situation, not in the way he applied it. But I was wrong—I reread my beginning blogs. It’s as if I still was twitterpated and infatuated with him, but I was trying to hide it. As time went on, I went on to indirectly insulting him.
2.) The last two entries, I seem to be the bitter-er one, not he. I should not be writing in emotional states, or issues may arise with what and how I think. He said, “Go outside, in your woods, or wherever, and get some endorphins before you start writing.” I laughed. It sounded silly.
But his point stuck. I WAS bitter, then. The bitterness still could arise. It doesn't have many times where one could actually point out a bitter remark, but the tone itself shows that I'm not happy. The majority of my acquaintances may think I’m sweet, but I have a dark and bitter side, one that only shows up when I’m feeling depressed. (Insert blues-y song here.) I guess this fight, attacking the very essence of my being, was one of those times.
3.) I intersperse “big words” with stupid phrases, which makes him think that I’m going to be a biologist—Biologists, in his stereotypical opinion, are incredibly stupid and incredibly intelligent all at the same time. :S What? Oh, and a lot of my words are spelled incorrectly.
4.) Zach is very sensitive. Little tiny details could start him on a red herring. I don't remember RORAQ's exact words, but he said something along the lines of, "If you hint at something, Zach sees it to be there. If you don't, he wonders if it is there." Zach is nitpicking my blog. Using my own lack of positively knowing exactly what I wrote on my blog against me. No, the whole bitter thing is not that bad. No, there is no real proof that I called him a nerd. No, a lot of this takes one line, or even a few words, and twists them in such a way that I get scared and feel crummy all day.
He concluded with his “blogal” analysis with something along the lines of, “Are you sure you want to lose him as a friend?”
I stared blankly at him. “I never said that.”
“No, but with all of this endless conflict, he’s pushed you away. When YOU YOURSELF are stooping to contempt and offense toward him, he will get the (he swore here) away from you. But here’s the million dollar question, ‘do you really want him to leave?’”
So there is the ultimate termination. Do I want him to leave?
It was at this time that I decided that it wouldn’t be so bad to live in New Mexico or Arizona. Now, I still waver because this would be the ultimate defeat.
No, I don’t want him to go away. But I don’t want to be the only one not wanting that. I don’t know whether or not I am, but I feel as if I am the only one who doesn’t want him to go away. He just thinks he can randomly attack me, with “You wanted to dump me and go out with Stalder” and “because you don’t care about public opinion, you don’t have the whole picture,” and whatever else he’s pulled from the bubble pit.
Zach, if you want to go away, I’m not begging you to stay.
It’s not like you’ve given much effort to be friends.
Actually, it's the exact opposite.
You find ways to attempt to make me eat my words, but what's on your menu is not on the plate.
I feel defeated.
That could be because I’m too tired.
I always get really tired whenever fighting with anyone. It stinks.
But I feel defeated.
Taking everything that’s happened the past two days, here is my final plea;
I was wrong in insulting Zach. I was wrong in attacking him. Merely because I am hurting gives me no right to launch down his throat. And no, I don’t want him to go away. I wouldn’t mind going away, but I don’t want to be the one left behind. Sad, isn’t it? I’d rather abandon him than have him forsake me? Curses to emotions.
No, I shouldn’t take anger and fling it, like a brick. Rather, one should allow it to be washed away like sand in your fingers as a wave laps over you.
I am sorry for attacking him, but I’m not sorry for my actions in APUSH class. It was cute. Not like Zach’ll be sorry for jumping down my throat over little to nothing, but then again, he never is. Was that a bitter statement? Not this time. The above was not bitter, but despairing. I’m too tired to feel bitter toward him. (With all of Zach’s rolling of the eyes and heavy sighs, I think he might feel this way towards me a lot. As if I’m too heavy a weight for me to be on his mind. I don’t know if this is the case, but that thought makes me feel bitter.)
I felt these depressing emotions pretty much all today, most of yesterday night when I called Zach three times in hopes to talk about it, and even now.
But there is a happy light x2 to a bit of this story, besides Zach expressing his maturity.
We had mass today. Mass is held in the Gymatorium (It’s a gymnasium with basketball courts and a stage. XD), where we place down “carpet” synthetic mats on the wooden floors, put out chairs and bleachers, and have mass. It’s really a great and pro-community experience. I love mass at High School (gosh, it’s hard to not reveal the name of your high school!)
There was more room in the upper section of the bleachers, right under where I sat, and Brother Tom forced a whole bunch of people up a few rows. Zach was pressed into sitting right next to me, and I wonder if somehow, that was God’s intervention. This morning, I attempted a conversation with Zach in the cafeteria, but words escaped me and I didn’t say much. His sitting right next to me caused me to well up all over again. I couldn’t sing the first song because I was in tears. I tried very hard to not let them escape or cascade down my face.
The time of mass came where everyone told everyone “Peace.” I shook Zach’s hand, said, “Peace, and I mean it.” He’d understand that I didn’t want to fight; that’s what I meant by it; maybe there’d be no more friction between us with God’s help. (He kind of wrecked the moment for me by rolling his eyes and sighing loudly. As if I was being stupid. But I really did mean it. Peace be with you, Zach. Peace be with us, and between us, and for us… Gosh darn it anyway, I’m breaking into tears again, as I write this. I want peace.) Even with his sigh and roll of the eyes, I felt as if I did something. I wished Zach peace. It’s a step toward actual and real peace. Will Zach and I ever have peace?
Out of curiosity, do realists believe in peace? I should ask RORAQ that sometime.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The other light of hope came at lunch today. I pretty much ignored Zach, sitting at the table with Cindy, discussing poisoned apples and little dwarfs running around school. We giggled a bit, and laughing feels good when one has emotional issues to deal with. Other than that, I sulked and ruminated about the stickiness of fighting and dealing with complex emotions like bitterness. Zach had previously talked about how everyone had read my blog’s last two bitter posts, and that he texted it to a whole bunch of people. That was a relief, because then I could talk to people about it and everything without having to start at the very beginning of this feud, in APUSH class. Sadly, though, many of the people whom I hoped read it, because I wanted to talk to them, hadn’t. As of that morning when he first told me about the texting, I cried in the bathroom with a friend, and no one in the bathroom read the blog, and they knew what was going on. It was three for three. I contemplated this among other things, and decided to ask Zach some questions. I don’t remember the questions I asked him, or what it was about.
He didn’t want to talk about it. He needed to study for his English test, one that he didn’t know about because of his absence on Monday. I took the test that morning, and told him what to watch out for. He gave me a half-smile, as if he was grateful for the warnings and help. I then demanded something of him, in the tone of voice of a threat, “You better get an A+.” (We don’t yet know if he did, but I wish him well.)
The help with the test, the half-smile of the hint of gratitude… They are all very little things. But it’s these little things that make life so much more bearable. We could extend the logic with more examples—Thanking the cashier at the grocery store, smiling at someone who doesn’t look like he/she’s had a great day, tossing a penny on the ground for some little kid to discover with exuberance. Tiny little, insignificant details that could mean the difference between turbulence and peace.
One really needs to appreciate the little things.
They really do count.
Peace is attainable.
As for Zach, Will we find peace?
Who knows? But it’s there.
We just…
...have to find it.
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Posted by Goo on 2008-04-04 21:45:00 | Rating: | Views: 63
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