the view from the lowdive

I could do quite well to debunk myself and justify this attempt at logging my life is nothing more than a defence mechanism, since I just “pulled a pat,”  which is a move coined into existance about twenty minutes ago, when my friend Pat got up from our circle of friends, said, stated, brought into the realm of our reality the phrase “Fuck This,” and walked out.  Pat did this in a most non violent way, in a way that was not to disturb anyone from their path of heinous clock killing and insurgent behavior in the productive aspects of each others lives.  It was not a “fuck you,” certainly not.  It was just “Fuck This.”  Perhaps a bit odd of a time to pull such a maneuver too, because to an outside observer, my friends and I were doing some of our best actual living to record, having our friend Mike brought his guitar over, and me finishing the pages of FeverPitch, and Kevin having our new and only female twelvth wheel Franny join us, with Matt attempting to learn piano and steve watching hip hop beat making sessions of famous producers on the internet.  We at the time seemed to be conscious individuals with a well respected future.  I knew this to be a dispicable farce.  We most certainly cared for our future, and our selves, but this was nearly the closest we ever got to showing it.  As it looked to a third party, and should have been, a lowly night of simple relaxation and ‘hanging’, it was infact the least self destructive we have ever been as an assembled group. 
    I am not interested in accounting the many, many altercations we have had with our less than ideal invisionments of ourselves.  Atleast not immediately and without neccessity.   I just, just as i did about twenty minutes ago, have no desire to continue on as such.  I ‘pulled a chris’, which i suppose is my own version of pulling a pat, which is to stand up and declare that ‘I’m pulling a pat’ as well.
    On my empowered walk home, my mind was swirling with my revelations of the past month, the things I wanted to share with kindly people like yourselves who entertain the ideas of twenty one year olds who can’t quite describe themselves.  In my kitchen though, having my more ideal and solitary computer room occupied by my sister’s sleep over crew, i have met the unshakeable distraction of the high school banter of my sisters sleep over crew.  Life functions as this occasionally, to give you what it is you are running away from.  I considered browsing facebook while the disturbance quelles itself back into the recesses of my thinly floored house, but their reference to the social networking site, done in comparison of fanfare on two relationship status updates posted by two breaking parties, I have become so disdained with the url I hoped I never use it again, and quickly resigned to do so more sparingly.    
    For all four of the highschool girls to agree though, that “She was so bad for him,” is something I’m finding a bit thrilling and invigorating.  Though I am 21, I have been all of the ages leading up to this alcohol-legal-break of hyper-anticipation, and for every year such, just like my sister and her friends, I have been such a vivacious, learning, turning, pyschoactive, enthralled individual that people can be such things as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for me.  At this time, though I’m realizing my sister has gained a certain amount of confidence and territorial entitlement when it comes to subject matter she will expose me too as I weather the chitter chattering presence of her pals, I feel excited that I will continue on as impressionable, as offendable and curious and unlikable, I’m eager for more opporunities that other people will possibly say went ‘bad’ for me, although I plan to actively and carefully dodge this fate, or at least find reasons to assert the opposite when all is said and done.  Also, if this applies to any current or former Cranford High School teachers, when the class says “raccoon,” it means Bennett has his pants down. 

Same night-Post 1 minute 3 comments on facebook, pizza inserted into previously preoccupied toaster oven
Having tolerated them for quite sometime, I peered over the counter and the junior year chatter boxes and asked what they were doing sitting in a circle on the floor.  As is customary, they assumed the inquiry as a rhetorical demonstration of my inabilty to comprehend such a  circle, thus unanimously agreeing on its unabated dissolution and returning to the basement.  As I questioned the silence I had earned, I wondered if I had simply avoided interference until my amusement ceased, but I thought, in any event, they would be glad for the time I sat silently, and also I do deserve an amount of privacy.  I do have a lingering guilt that I may have re-sentenced them to their TV culture, having wrongfully came off about one of the nearly lost but truly fantastic practices of the 60’s, the cross-legged circle.  All in all, they likely were not influenced culturely to a huge magnitude and took it as, “enough is enough,” or atleast, in a very generous fashion talking to themselves as, “I’m already taking up one area of the house, and who knows how tough of a life this kid has or has had more recently to today, maybe he just wants his kitchen.”  Surely it was something along those lines, except my well-being, ofcourse, being gigantically less important. 
(while facebook logs in)
Part of being a repenting narcissist is to constantly distance yourself from importance.  However, calling yourself a narcissist and doing so is also the behavior of those who never have been a narcissist, and have infact been self-harmingly the opposite.  As I once said about my impact of alternative sibling styles affecting my sister positively or negatively, I well again use to answer the question of whether or not I am a narcissist,  that coin is still flipping. 
And as someones farhead appears on my computer screen, I hit the top X to disrupt the useless stream of digital data that would follow and unfold the picture downwards.  I’ve seen that picture three times today anyway.  Lately I’ve been trying to live more, almost as if i’m living longer, by cramming my life with excellent activities.   I am glad no one can provide you with an evaluation of my recent success with such, although at some point in this diary is a summation of my friend Adam’s and mine trials with a video game called age of empires three, which is, needless to say, not on the intinerary of any prominent international summits or american sky rise conference calls. 
Post night with friends
I wonder if I am an arrogant person.  Today I achieved one of my notoriously misplaced quips, or thats what a high doctor of personality diagnosis, and ironically criminal justice poly sci major like my friend  kevin  would say is , “a hostille remark”.  It couldn’t have been offensive, I could hardly remember saying it.  At the time it felt like pressing a nd b on an nes controller in World Cup Soccer to rip 1 of 5 unstoppable bicylce kicks.  Only 5 allowed per half.   It was only a fully enthused and direct attempt to bring the idiotic into reality, to act directly and emphatically opposed to a statement of no true weight on our emotionality, no importance to any impirical application.  It was nothing really, just a simple move of desperation us college and working 20’s know to rage against the monotony.  If Frannie met an alumni from New Paltz, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to know who just because I sternly assert it’s boring to have met an alumni, I was only mocking something I desperately hate, a way of technology age kids to create dark matter of satire to absorb the monstrously broadcasted moans of the radio (which were all remarkably fantastic on Kanye West’s Monster).  It was a desperate move,  drastic times called for offensive measures.  When people think I’m being an asshole, the times I’m not mistaken, I am an anarchist that demonstrated desperately for a kind of assembly that would eliminate his purpose.