kennebunk p. misunderstood - a reason, not an excuse. the simple things can't be broken down anymore, there have been times where I can be a pretty big jerk. there are other times where I am not a jerk, but misunderstood, or facts are twisted in ways that happen everyday, to everyperson. so i am not typing here to point fingers, blame, make up excuses, etc.. i am here to apologize. i just want to make friends, i just want to be there for people, i despise making enemies, and i despise having them even more. i know it is not exactly possible to instantly wipe any slate clean, but i sit here, 11:30p typing to make a stab at at least *starting* to rid of some horrible misconceptions/happenings. i hate no people, i may get annoyed or frustrated, but i cannot hate another person, it's just who i am. i forgive everyone eventually and only wish the same, i guess that's why things get sort of hard for me. i make mistakes, but only make ammends to few. tonight, i wish a different proposal. i want to make ammends to anyone who is reading this, you know who you are. the past can't be changed, but the future can. and i hope it starts here. so please, this may seem like a desperate cry for forgiveness to you, or it may seem like a sappy and melodramatic shitload. but either way i want all this hating to end, all these "cliques" and i want to sincerely apologize for anything i've ever done wrong, i can be a real jerk sometimes, hell i can be a giant asshole, that's not an excuse, but what i am saying here is that i want that to change. most of us have only a year (or less) left here, so why fight for the rest of it, why have skewed opinions on people we hardly know? the tension and horrible anger is over as far as i'm concerned, i forgive all, and hope all is forgiven. please feel free to respond, retort, hell you can bash the hell out of this if you want, just let others know how you feel. kennebunk, i invite you to open up, i invite you to forgive, and if all goes well, maybe our last year together will be the best. 010227 ... blahblah Today I watched about two and a half hours of old home videos. Lately I've been dragging the old piece of shit camera around because I am conscious of the fact that once I am out of this town (which is soon, I think), these images, the sights and sounds of my puny little repetitive life, will exist only in memory, as remembrances...of "how" things were not what they were. And there's often an sea of difference between the two. Seems I was even conscious of this in those home videos I made in 1995 -- there are so many shots of me just walking around the house with the camera, turning it on myself, saying embarassingly high-pitched words of introduction. I knew what was up. And now my mother is getting married and all of that guilt I've always felt for her, for being chained to children since she was 19 and had my sister, and worrying about money and our health and all that...and now she won't have to work. And I feel curiously free. And I feel like I can do anything. And I can. I've outgrown high school. That's all it comes down to. I've outgrown small-town america and it's lessons for children. Maturity means recognizing that 95% of the adult world is all of three inches deep and developing a thick skin for criticism. Athat fear that 'they' cultivated in me is wearing thin...I can't be intimidated. I have a brain. And I'm beginning to be excited by the idea of doing things I've always dreamed of doing. I'm going to cry so fucking much at graduation and it has so little to do with the people I know, the countless kids I don't know at all, the parents, the sappiness of it all...I'm going to be crying because I feel like I'm preparing for war. And that can mean freedom and triumph and glory, or that can mean violence and fear and death...or maybe these tumultuous teenage years were the war, and I'm now coming home to the home I've always dreamed of, the home free of threat and persecution? Maybe the war is over and I'll be crying tears of gratitude? But what was so bad about it all? Was it bad? Or just traumatic? Was it good? How do you summarize 18 years in captivation and incubation in one word, good or bad? And what if I get scared and want to crawl back into the egg? I won't ever forget though. You can regret, you can vow to correct your ways or say it better next time, but you can't forget: sleeping on my roll-up blanket/mat thing when I was very young, throwing rocks down the hill in our backyard, into the pond behind our house on purgatory road (born in providence, raised in purgatory!), dick tracy action figures breaking at my dad's work, paintingandpaintingandpainting, drawing comics, walking in the woods in the summer behind my house, coloring outside of the lines in kindergarten and crying so loud that the teacher had to call my mother at work to come pick me up, sleep walking and sleeping on the top step of the stairs, asking my father when i was nine if he'd rather die by a gunshot or natural causes, learning what things you do and do not talk about with parents, summer camp, the way the wind was the day my father died, what it felt like to be swimming in water you knew had snapping turtles in it, asthma attacks and trips to the hospital, the smell of my counselors' cologne...I can still remember both of their faces, no names though, one of them gave me his tennis racket when he heard my dad died, i didn't know what to make of it, the feel of the cafeteria, the mess hall it was called, the little cheerios and things in quarter machines like outside of wal-mart, taking some strange form of karate that was rather like ballet, difficulty in math when i was in fourth grade (anger, resentment, embarassment), the time my third grade teacher, ms. acheson, wanted to send a note home because I didn't do any work that year and my brother got me out of it, beginning to read like mad, matt murphy and his nonsensical joke about "mr. phipp's potato crisps", he looked like the joker from batman, his guitar, the time we went to his mom's boyfriend's little studio and I carefully picked out "She'll be coming 'round the mountain" on his yellow Jackson guitar with the rose on it, through some sleek pedal processor, out his twin cab marshall stack, moving to maine, my carefully styled and sculpted designer hair (how the other kids would mock it), more asthma attacks, kathy sullivan and that note she wrote me in fifth grade in big loopy girl writing (I STILL have her picture!), crazy rob waterman and our comics ("Slime!") -- that kid could always draw so much better than I could, quite a bit of confusion around this time, trying to find my pace -- athletics? art? music? what?, severe hypochondria and depression every summer, thinking about god when i was convinced I had a rare form of melanoma, problems with my mother, the nights she would trash entire rooms because she didn't know what to tell me, nirvana -- getting completely and utterly lost in music for the first time, holding adelyn connolly's hand and her kiss on my cheek in sixth grade in the little island of woods within the bus circle at Sea Road school, more nirvana, more asthma attacks, playing Scrooge in Ms. Harvey's production of "A Christmas Carol", asking Ms. Kita to read "Little Women" because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about (and her strange response), the first times I used the 'f' word, playing guitar, middle school, aidan's huge hair and the smell of his house and the way he would tile the windows in windows 3.1, the first nite we walked around in the port (everything looked so...Dickensian!), how kind his parents were, discovering punk rock with aidan and patrick, shocking our parents together, sven's quote of himself safety-pinned to his hat, the night at the elvis room when paul from the pinkerton thugs gave us hugs because we were from kennebunk and told us we'd be alright, the nite we slept at sven's and got into that huge argument with his gun-toting, wife-beating stepfather and patrick slept in the empty hot tub with the huge cover on it, being the coolest little 13 year old anarchists in southern maine, reading chomsky and proudhon and arguing and arguing, the feeling i got when ms. shaw was passing out vocab sheets and all i could say was "My band is playing with THE UNSEEN and PINKERTON THUGS tonite!!!", that show, Paul driving me home, getting tapes from the super-cool high school kids who we must have annoyed the fuck out of, more fights with parents, the nite aidan came over and we bitched about my mother in my room to find her sitting outside the door in tears, how aidan has slept at my house only three or four times since then, high school, tyler wentworth slamming me into the bleachers in phys ed, buying my copy of "A People's History of the United States", begetting the first of Coach Rafferty's many requests to "put the book down and jog", Mr. Folsom tearing apart my dogmatic little essays, taking honors classes (and school) VERY seriously, thinking about ivy league schools, planning the next forty-fifty years of my life, thinking I understood 'pretty much' how the world worked, falling in love, falling deeply in love, the first nite we talked for hours and hours, if I could just have that feeling again, not for myself, but just to give to someone else, it would be the kindest thing I could ever do, the nite we were driven to the movies to see "Patch Adams", every nite after that, every breathing moment, every touch and smile and laugh and all that other romantic love shit...it's all true you know, it's all true, and it was one of the best experiences in my short little puny life, and her smell is what i remember most, and that's what I'll be crying about come june, and the loss and self-loathing and desperation and all that heartbreak bullshit...it's all true you know, it's all true, and it was one of the most important experiences in my short little puny life, and learning and growing, and summer nights at the beach talking and so much time seemed like we were doing nothing and we were doing so much in so little time, really, and every single night aidan or shaun and I stayed up and talked, and goddamn those people are beautiful people, and without them, who would I be? what would I think like?, and more asthma attacks, and books, and shows, and getting drenched in sweat at warped, and finally taking drivers ed, and bands and shows and music, and failure, and stearing this ship somewhere, and trying again (trying hard), and making big decisions by flipping coins, and all the pain and all of the joy and all of the fake, phony people, and all the music and simple honest people, and only now am I writing this stuff down...and there's so much more. blah. 010227 ... the great divide forgetting is one thing, forgiving is enitrely different.. ---------------------------------------- for·get (fr-gt, fôr-) v. for·got (-gt), for·got·ten (-gtn) or for·got, for·get·ting, for·gets. v. tr. 1)To be unable to remember (something). 2)To treat with thoughtless inattention; neglect: forget one's family. 3)To leave behind unintentionally. 4)To fail to mention. -to forget isn't what is being asked for here. no, to forget something is wrong, to remember something is to hold it dear, to have that thought to hold, to have that moment to live and relive over and over again... if it is so easy to remember when someone makes you angry, why is it so hard to remember when they make you feel wounderful? there are stupid grudges held all the time between people who were once the best of friends, I've witnessed it myself, and have even been a part of these events. I cannot forget what people have done to me, but to forgive is a whole other story. -I do not believe you can "outgrow" something like forgiveness, you cannot mature so far beyound your years that you are above others. Yes, people piss people off, yes there have been unjust and unruly things done to you and others you know, but there is also the opposite... -count how many times someone has made you laugh in the past, think of how many secrets you've exchanged, think of the goodtimes that were so fleeting... ...not think of why you aren't friends with them anymore. Was it a rumour you heard? Was it something they said that perhaps you may have missunderstood? Count how many times that person has pissed you off enough (with good reason, not based on words exchanged, rumours heard, misconceptions floating around, etc..) to not be your friend... I am willing to bet most of the people you fail to converse with day-to-day have made you more happy than you realize, and perhaps what they did was not truly worthy of smiting them. -I only speak out of experience, this has all happened to me before, numerous times. and by "you" I mean anyone who is reading this right now, take time to step back and think about what I am saying, where did all this anger come from? can it be easily solved? most of the time, yes. And to not try to just because you believe you are "above" it all, or are out of here in a year, is a silly mistake. -Get over it, everyone makes mistakes. Forgive and forget, because one day, you too will ask for forgiveness. ---------------------------------------- for·give (fr-gv, fôr-) v. for·gave (-gv), for·giv·en (-gvn), for·giv·ing, for·gives. v. tr. 1)To excuse for a fault or an offense; pardon. 2)To renounce anger or resentment against. 3)To absolve from payment of (a debt, for example). ---------------------------------------- -and remember, no one is perfect, not even you... -and if all in all, you cannot bare to nullify your grudges, so be it. But don't make it worse, just let it roll off your back. Because if you can't forgive minor errors in a small-time town, than I fear for you when you step out into the real world. think. 010228 ... p. i came home today (a rather sunny, yet cold day) to find my sister talking to her friend on my grandmother's postable phone. She was, at the same time, listening to an 'nsync CD on her 3 year old portable compact dicc player. it was then i stopped to look around at exactly what i was seeing. my sister and her trendy, teeny-bopper clthing disappeared into the back of my mind while i looked around on what has really happened. nothing is the same. nothing will ever be the same. i stood there, in my home of seventeen years, yet the space which i occupied was foreign to me. my kitchen has been gutted and regutted, my porch that i had so many fond memories of was gone, from my grandmothers room came a wave of sweltering heat (along with the blaring sounds of family fued), and as i placed down my bookbag, and took off my coat, it hit me harder than anything has before. nothing is the same. nothing will ever be the same. and i realized, as contrived as the change of our house was, there were other things that came along with the ride. when i realized that my childhood stomping grounds, and the very places where i experienced my first joys of being a kid were physically gone, i knew that i had only to hold them in memory, and just remember what they were to me. i have to move on. childhood is well gone, and i guess that's what my houses 'renovation' helped me see. the past events of my life are just that, passed. i have to hold them where no one else can touch them, i have to keep them close to me, or i will lose them forever, i have to move on and realize there is nothing i can do about what i have lost, or what i have gained. the best thing to do is just soak it up, reminisce in the past by watching old family videos, and just... let it go... i guess what i am saying is it is a philosophy that should be held true to almost anything. as cheesy and trite my last paragraphs must seem to you, i find it all very true. no one here is asking anyone to forget, just hold the past close to yourself, and let it go... take "now" for what it is, look foward to the future, past grudges are something to be forgotten over time.. not the events that caused them, necessarily, but merely the fact that they exist, perhaps. what's done is done, no undoing it, no wiping our memories clean... nothing can be done about the past, but plenty can be done about the future. and making 'vows' to change isn't what forgiving is about, it isn't what growing, and becoming a better person is about. why i am writing what i write, why i started this whole silly topic in the first place, is because i believe in people... perhaps more than i should.. but i believe that persons can be 'big' enough that they can shake hands, and just realize that there are bigger things to worry about in the world than: 'what did s/he say about me? what an asshole..' to sum it up... it may take a big person to live their life maturly, and always be content of what they say, and stand by their word. but it takes a bigger person to admit their wrong, to forgive someone, hell even to just realize that people just can't be "forgotten"... ...when you stop talking to someone, it doesn't mean they stop existing.. i learned that the hard way, and almost lost a dear friend. one lesson learned for me is that if you can't forgive others, what chance do you have to forgive yourself? ... 010228 ... ab I'll write more later, but I just wanted to say that what John wrote made me cry. *tries to smile* It's funny how one 'love' can make me forget all those who have supported me, and continue to support me -- without question and undyingly. I'll never be able to repay you; I owe everything to you. 010228 ... aj more often than not, what i try to say come out as ridiculous, extra girly, cliched comments. and it seems to happen most when i'm trying to say something important. but i mean what i say. at least i can promise it's real. a while ago i had myself convinced i knew exactly what i wanted. that was the most foolish thought i've ever had. i know what i love. and i think i know what i don't want. but really i'm mostly lost. i walk past faces i used to know in the hallways everyday and wonder what's behind their eyes. and it kills me that sometimes i can't spend more than 5 minutes with people i thought i loved without feeling like i'm going to throw up. i've been told a million times i'll move on to bigger and better things. but that doesn't mean i've ever wanted to lose what i had along the way. i can be tough for only so long-generally only a short while-before i go back to holding tight to things i wonder if anyone else remembers. that night nicky got her head stuck in her floor, her gerbil died, i spilt paint, and jess tried to hide in her drier. satellite. bunkbeds when i first moved here and listening to 'rollercoaster'. thinking i'd found good friends in ridiculous people. finally realizing i had one already and signing notes with l.y.l.a.s. "it's surreal" my first show and getting punched in the face. the guy and his shirt at pizzeria uno. fighting in the streets of new york over the color of a jacket. my friends not forgiving me for making them suffer through a horrible halloween reading my phone book. never being able to open that door in florence and having to ask the boy who threw his socks away to save room in his suitcase to open it everytime. running down the streets of lido in the rain trying to find a phone. karaoke and low ceilings. marco et marco. telling kristin who i liked in the bathroom while i dyed her hair and it didn't work. the ska fest and back flips-a true 'day.' making posters for my ceiling. bubbles and pictures on the roof in vintage slips. the bella mafia. shutting off the crucible to watch empire records yet again. leaving and learning how much more there was to see. eating oreos and the girl who slept on my arm. crying in the car on the way home. losing my world when i returned. 3 and 4 hour phone calls. photobooths. putting your hair in 60 knots. the rotting head. junky juice and sitting on the lifegaurd stand. chinese food after fights and kisses goodnight on the forehead. letters i thought i'd never get that made my day. the emo party. sitting in my middle room talking for hours. tiny squares of light on the ceiling... more than anything, i miss little things. time here is too precious to waste. and people are beautiful. sometimes it takes a while for that to really hit you. what i think i know is this: all that's amazing, all that's sincere crushes all the shit in the world. and i'm already lucky. i've already met some of the best there is. and i'll never be able to give back what you've given to me. but i'll do my best to be real/honest/sincere. i don't want things to be the way they used to be. that was my problem for the longest time; i lived in the past. i can hold onto things, but i can't let them control me. and in keeping with all this talk: i'll never forget. but i can forgive. 010228 ... spd It's the soap opera we live every day and wish to God we could get away from. It's the friends we've had for years, some who we take for granted, and some we already miss. It's all the life many of us have known, and to me, the most rewarding. If only for the people I've known and loved. It's the happiest place on earth in that I've never had as many friends as I now do ... and the coldest, as few of them can stand to be in the same room together. It's the most liberal, free-thinking group that has never ceased to broaden me, and it's sometimes so close-minded and judgemental that I want to scream. It has changed my life and how I see the world entirely for the better, and makes me cry in fear that I'll never find people such as these again. So many faces I wish I could spend every day with... faces I'm asked to chose between... and someone is always left out. We have so little time left, and I might have so much left to say, if I were one for many words. I love you all. 010228 ... p. i look back at all that i've written. it's all been about trying to apolgize, trying to make everyone friends again. but that's not what is most important here. i read all your memories, and think of my own.. and a lot of the times, mine correspond with yours, and it makes me cry. i live a wonderful life with the people of this town, i have special things i take for granted every.single.day. i figured it out, kennebunk.. i need to step back and look at what this place has given me. its my HOME, it defines me, and my friends define me. you ARE my friends.. no need to make ammends, for already i love all of you. making up was not an offer to you, it was a plead for me. i have already forgiven you, now i only ask for forgivness. you make me, all of you. who i am, how i act, you give me my memories and give me something to live for. i realize with some of the silly things that have happened, that i can never give it all back.. but realize this, kennebunk. you are my family. and no matter how much tension there may be between any of us, there's always the love that binds. i'll miss you all greatly, i already do. 010228 ... nonzero you know i'll never cry because of it. and after all the silence is more profound. all of your words make me ache. the abuses--people, language, senses--are infinite and the pristine ivory of our towers about to be shattered by our own hands. and so i collect my thoughts and meet all the people i never knew i didn't know... and so i ask everyone here: where did you get your wings? 010228 ... rudhaen i'm sorry. the memories of my own life resurface listening to the words of you all. all i can do is regret the way i seem. am i superficial? why do i seem to be drifting further from the people who once held my world together? i feel and think yet nothing of these ideas is expressed. i'm not sorry for trying to figure out who i am. it's a process that only i can do for me. this "growing up" that is supposed to be hard shocks me with the realities of people and how inadequate i am to persuade them. i want to be liked. my whole life i've been a little slow about figuring out how to make that happen. how do you make people like an awkward confused child like me, when i don't know who me is? i guess all i want is to not be judged while i'm working it all out. if i make mistakes, i want to be responsible for them. i want to know what's what, and not be trapped behind a wall of unknown fears. who am i? i ramble. i cry. 010228 ... nonzero let me clarify, before i'm accused of shitting on anybody's parade again. i won't cry because of it, because crying isn't my highest form of emotion, i don't think. rare is the encounter with such honesty. that's the aching. it's not a vomit kind of thing. *sigh* the wings are real. i'm not kidding. you know it. goodnight. 010228 ... arinna scared, waiting for something undefined for a reason that hasn't been figured out yet. angry, knowing that sooner or later, i'll have to stop blaming my own immaturity for my problems, i'll have to chose to grow up. unsure, wondering at the emotions running wild all around, wondering if they really exist. sad, telling myself i could say what i think if i wanted to. ashamed to be angry or scared or sad or unsure when i have no reason to be. most of all, secure in the life that i have been hand fed, protected from even a glimpse of the real world, knowing that i'll be shocked when i'm finally forced to stand on my own. 010228 ... the boy with the thorn in his side Everything I say and you say and he says and she says makes me wish I could just shed this fucking teenage (and vice-versa) skin. This is definitely one of those "that's me in the corner, that's me in the spotlight..." moments. 010301 ... S.O.S. Melo-drama-rama. Nice pretty words. Walk the fucking walk. 010301 ... aj words are wonderful. following them up with actions is better. 010301 ... p. i am dazed as to why people think words are flimsy and not to be takien seriously unless backed by something. yes, actions speak louder than words, yes people say things they dont mean all the time, but listen: a 17 year old boy doesnt start a blather just because he has extra time on his hands. and i sure know that what people have said here isn't just something they say to take up the time inbetween jeopardy and bedtime. read into these words, soak them up, because for a lot of us, it's more than we've ever said. actions may speak louder than words, but words (written or spoken) sure as hell speak louder than an angry silence. skeptical people can often ruin things for others, don't let it happen here. i believe in everyone, i believe in everything they have said, i don't have time to waste on saying things i don't mean. i've learned that. life is short, pick your words wisely. do not have past events ruin the words ebing spoken here. in the past, people may have not followed through after speaking their mind, or they might have just forgotten about it all together. but this site, this little blue site lost here in the depths of the internet, has opened most of us up more than we had every imagined anything could. i wish not to erase the past, only change the future. and if you don't take that remark as sincerely as i have written it tonight, then you do not know me after all, and if you cannot believe the words i speak, how can we become closer? everyword i have ever spoken here, i have meant. think. 010301 ... spd Far be it for me to try and suggest a way to mend all these rifts that exist between so many of us... most of them I don't understand. I have the awkward distinction of being one of the few who still has friends among all these shattered groups ... and I really miss the days when we'd all spend a night together. Who told me that maybe it'll all get better when we realize we're leaving each other? I hope they were right, even if their name escapes me right now... our time is short, people, and I for one am already crying because it seems all the great memories I will recall in my life of Kennebunk have already been formed. But like I said, I don't even understand everything that has happened this past year or more ... so I don't pretend to assume it's mendable. But I do appreciate any attempt to do so. 010301 ... God Hey. Somebody use the 'f' word down here? I heard it. 010301 ... ab Don't get defensive, p, we're just a-sayin' that, because of everything that's happened, you're going to *need* to back what you're saying up with words, because it's heavy stuff. We're talking upheaval (err...the good kind), here. But all the luck in the world to you, and far be it from these people to criticize -- you took the first step, not them. Pax. 010302 ... p. i love your pot, ab (you know what i mean) and i didnt mean to get defensive, i just saw the S.O.S. and sort of got miffed. thanks for the kind words, you rule. 010302 ... The Observer *missle sound* 010307 ... p. you mean *missile*? who are you, anyway? and what is this supposed to mean? muahaha 010310 ... the boy with the thorn in his side "they're selling radioactive charm bracelets and breakfast cereals that lower your ICQ by 50 points per mouthful we got politicians who think starting World War III would be a good career move we got beautiful women with eyes like wet stones peering out at us from the pages of glossy magazines promising that they'll fuck us till we shoot blood if we'll just buy one of these beautiful switchblade knives I've got mine" - David Lerner 010325 ... the boy with the thorn in his side Wow, does it really lower my ICQ? ;) 010325 ... june Oh brother, here we go again. What's with you man, you're always preaching, "Lighten up." When is the next train to Clarksville? I'm not leaving for good and if I were where would I go, and in my death the flowers splattered around will be eventually swept away, no big deal love. No one has to back up anything, they just die. Ooohh wee, that's scary, but it'll suffice for now. Memories are not good enough b u d d y. 040120 what's it to you? who go blather from