with all my strength forever

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680868.post-1160646248047192812006-10-12T04:40:00.000-05:002006-10-12T04:44:08.060-05:00with all my strength foreverA letter to my fantastically beautiful friend E, who now lives in New York and studies the Law at NYU. We met online in 8th grade and have been writing each other for...mm, what grade am I in now? 17th? Nine years. I always thought she and I would be perfect together. Like she could make me such a better person, and I could love her with all my strength forever...but I can't tell her that. I've tried. :| E****, I wish for you a wondrous year of new adventures and friends and triumphs. Starting...October 12, today. Not exactly your birthday, but hey, you got a full year! Up and doing math homework because I can't sleep. My brain knows nothing about sunlight... Number Theory, despite being a charming name, is really an amalgom of algorithms and theorems that don't belong anywhere else. Primes, gcd's, methods with names like "Chinese Remainder Theorem" and "the Pulverizer" (my favorite, an algorithm for finding the gcd of huge numbers in mere seconds. Witness: gcd(1001, 869) = gcd(132, 869) = gcd(132, 77) = gcd(55, 77) = gcd(55, 22) = gcd(11,22) = 11). This is what I doodle in the margins of my notebooks... It's a rare moment: homework. I figure I'll scrape by with C's this semester. I don't know if all the smoking in my room is poisoning me with CO or what, but I have absolutely no motivation. It all kind of disappeared when I first got depressed nigh on three years ago... I thought decoupling my sense of self-esteem and my grades would be a good thing. Boy, was I wrong! Sorry, this is all so self-centered. If anyone knew where my blog was, it'd be way worse. Utter wallowing drivel. I have been writing like mad lately, which is about the only good thing I can say. Probably 100 pages since the start of the semester, skipping around between a number of books in the same story arc, some of which are on alternate timelines...lets me write whatever the hell I want, even if it defies logic. Have you had a minute to yourself to scribble anything lately? Anyway, how are you doing? Sometimes I'll be walking around campus and start thinking about violets for whatever reason. I seem to remember some school spirit on your behalf in high school; how is being a Violet suiting you? Five years of dealing with the administration here at UVA, living next to two frats, and three (!) jobs working here has soured me on this place. Are the other law students rabidly competitive, or are you all helping each other out? Is the workload crushing you (yet)? You're going to be such a smash hit; I can't wait to hear about it. How are the living quarters? Have you discovered interesting shops and restaurants? I sound like a travel guide... Hee. Have you met any girls? ;) What classes are you taking? Sorry it's been so long to write. To be completely, completely honest with you, I just don't care. About anything. The only reason I even try is because I know how boring it is to lie around for months on end and do absolutely nothing until one day becomes another, time flows like dirty water around you and you've nothing to grab onto. I could write a book about that; actually I am. A treatise of sorts on why one should choose to be. Hamlet was an idiot. I've been watching this fantastic new show on Showtime (you can download on BitTorrent) called Dexter--it's about a jaunty serial killer by night, forensics guy by day. He saunters about stalking other serial killers and faking a normal life. Not saying I relate to the night part, but definitely to the day part. There were some lines to the effect of: "most people fake some human interactions; I feel like I fake most of them". I actually sat up in my chair and said, "I totally agree," to my sister, who freaked out a little. I reassured her that I cared about her, but I'm not sure I do. Ever since that long bout of emptiness and despair, I've known how fleeting emotion is. I think of it in mercenary terms: as a compressed impression of information too myriad to be processed on a conscious level. A million little things about a person come out as a crush; changes in body language, tone of voice, logical paradoxes turn into anger. It comes; it goes; I don't care. I get the message. Then it's gone. I don't know what to think about that. Wow, this ramble is getting kind of creepy, but I always have felt like you could listen to me and not judge me. I don't know who to say these things to, except the open air. My friend Kristin, she's so calm and plain on the outside, but so torrid with emotion--anger and passion and sadness--on the inside. I'm the opposite. We had some mini-fights; I spent last weekend at her townhouse three hours from here; the kind of fights two opposite people would have (awkward, silent). I wonder what we would be like if we fought. It's an important thing to know about a person. Everything I remember, we're the type to apologize with all our hearts and make up better than ever...thinking of that is feeling something, even if it's kind of far away. So--don't bother writing a long reply, I just wanted someone to listen and I know you're always kind in that way. Love you, *******irahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08126052534311148133noreply@blogger.com