That he went on to teach other professionals in the field, poisoning their minds about whether anyone other than poisonous white, straight men should ever do his job?

I was more shocked that he wasn’t dead from his own bile than he won something from the industry this year, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. The proof of the system? Is what it does.

My only feelings after seeing them is they are still a pathetic bunch. They have turned out as one would expect.

But at least they seem happy, as happy as ignorant pigs. And maybe I am an unhappy thinking person.

Why? Because his inability to change and grow as a person (he decided to settle down in his town working dead end jobs rather than try to better himself despite having potential) was one of the reasons I decided to move to another city… with both him and my father prohetizing that I wasn’t going to amount to much and would fall back in place in no time. Well, I managed to move out from my parents home and have been living on my own ever since without taking one cent out of their pockets. Got a second scholarship that eventually landed me the job I wanted, took up freelancing and now am in the middle of another bout of change due to hobbies now becoming more and more serious and job-like…. I’m also in love, which is something I didn’t really think it could happen. I’m not as nearly happy or satisfied with myself as I would like to be, but I know that I can do better and improve if I keep on it, because these past five years are proof enough. Better yet, I know that I have to cherish the desire to keep change coming rather than fight against it.

And the ex boyfriend, you might ask? I found him on Myspace and yes, I gloated for about ten second. Now, I might have been influenced by the past, by the haunted expression of his only picture and the mentions of harsh dealing from life, or by reading the posts above, but I feel like I have deserted a person I could have helped, because I was too busy chasing my own life goals. So, as hopeless as it can be (as he was the one who walked away from my offers of friendship at the time and decided to burn bridges) I sent him a message… maybe he’s discovered that change doesn’t necessarily mean something bad.

Forget Zoloft, holy crap! Hit me especially bad this year.

I intentionally didn’t read many replies so I’d give you something non-biased and directly from my brain squozenings.

You hit the nail on the head with the duality of the thing. At once I find myself horrified at how little of this majestic planet they’ve seen/understand, but also find myself jealous of their simple existences and companionship.

I’ve done and seen some crazy stuff so far, and have many days yet to come (I hope). Still, I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I’m missing something. It’s much harder to find a group of reliable like-minded people when you’re working towards a higher state of intelligence.

That’s not elitism talking, it’s just sad fact. The more I think, the more I find to be True, the less I can relate to your average person. A simple conversation with Joe The Plumber on the potentiality of the quantum universe becomes akin to describing a degree of “brightness” to a blind person. They’re never going to really understand, because they don’t have the basic framework to put it into context.

Not that they COULDN’T learn the basics, but realistically most people do not take the time. Perhaps that’s your answer, Nadya. We who exercise our mental capacity are lonely because there’s too few humans making an effort to truly do so.

Or maybe I just explain things horribly. A realist embraces all possibility til proven false, after all.

I expected to find catharsis from the misery of spoiled kids working meaningless, menial trades. Instead I felt a kind of optimism watching this under-appreciated, working class guy carefully packing groceries with an air of genuine pride.

Thanks Audie.

I spent the long weekend cringing at the photos, at others’ inability to remember me, my inability to remember people who remember me, my inability to remember names, faces and events that were so influential to me, my confession of a crush only to be immediately friended by my former object of ardor… There was a lot of cringing.

And yes, I was looking at the current photos, what we’d all become. And yes, there was a certain amount of satisfaction that I wasn’t the only one who had lost most easily identifiable signs of former hipness.

But I’m only a junior in college, so those things are farther away. But I did kind of look around at the end of high school + go “Yep, there’s only about two people here I actually give a damn about. The rest can go to hell.” And I just kind of shut down to them.

I also deny a lot of facebook friend requests, because I honestly don’t care to hear about everybody’s business all the time.

Ugh, I need a nap.

It took me way too long to get over the harassment, and I’ve gotten to a healthy point of indifference. I still live in the same neighborhood, and see some of the same people. I know that most of them became “addicted” to pot in eighth grade, dropped out of ninth, and proceeded to knock each other up until prom-night babies came out of their ears.

My inner 10-year-old is still a bit pissed at the jackasses who poured food on her notebooks and laughed at her when she talked with the only openly lesbian girl in school. But I sat her down, gave her a spine, and reminded myself that everybody’s middle school experience sucks. Besides, if they happen to come up to me today and remain the selfish little fucks that they were, I can handle it far better. For now I get to work on my illustration career.

And yet I’d still probably do this: