Jennifer was put down yesterday.

My mom had been in town with me and my sister, so Jennifer had been staying at a kennel. While on the way back to Spokane, she got a call saying that Jennifer had a seizure that morning. They took her to the vet and stayed with her until mom came. She apparently didn't recognize mom or any of the vets, which made them think she had gone blind, probably from her breast cancer spreading to her brain. She had another few seizures before they made the decision.

I had been expecting this, as I've obviously mentioned, for a while but I still wasn't prepared. But it'll get better.

"Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away."
- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

I tried, at least.

Tried, that is, to redeem myself. To be an even moderately respectable person. I know that I'm not, and as much as anyone who reads this may try and argue against that, please don't. Even though I've said a lot here, whats been said can only give you a slight insight into what I sadly consider to be the one good part left in me. All the bits that make me somewhat human are here, online, in this damn journal, where they stay.

Which is perhaps why I stopped bother to update it. Essentially at the same time I stopped writing here, a change started coming over me. It was a feeling of restlessness, the same sort that made me determined to move to Seattle in the first place, which manifested in me quitting my job as a cook and becoming a reading tutor with AmeriCorps and get back in school. I did both things because I was becoming disgusted with how I was living, and how I was acting. I was becoming a drain on everyone around me, punishing them for my own unhappiness.

I was afraid of becoming nihilistic, and losing whatever sense of humanity I still had. I wanted to bring some meaning into my life, maybe actually have a positive influence on someone again.

I wanted to finally feel good about who I was.

To make what would be an extremely tedious laundry list of problems significantly shorter, let's just say that thinking that I could do school and AmeriCorps at the same time was foolish to begin with. I worked from 9 AM at the school I tutored at to 4 PM, and would then have night classes from 5:30-8:30. my schedule left me little time for anything other than work, and the friendships I had, which I felt had already been strained under the weight of my own dickishness, were getting even tenser. The stress of school and work got me sick with a sinus infection in October, which stuck around through December after having caused a flare up of bronchitis as well in November.

Had AmeriCorps been rewarding, however, that all might've been fine. But, only through the sheer force of luck that is so undoubtedly my own, ended up at what is universally agreed upon as being the worst job site within my program, with the most inept supervisor.. However, I say this without exaggeration, if it can be believed. Whereas other job sites within our program actually, you know, tutor kids, my site supervisor has gone to great lengths to ensure this does not happen. Both from a lack of understanding on what exactly we are at the school to do (again, tutor kids), and a lack of interest to find out. Two meetings from the head of our program hasn't changed this. The only recourse given to us has been the promise that our program wouldn't be renewing the grant at our school again next year, which may strike you as not being a very good solution at all, and you'd be right.

But that's all cursory information all the same. Sorry for making you read it. The problem is really, as Modest Mouse said in my previous post, not my job or my friends or being here in Seattle in this apartment, it's me.

Thing is, I was doomed to start. I've been trying for so long to do... something. Change. Get better. Become something more worth while and more caring. And for all my effort, it's done the opposite. My conviction in my own worthlessness has made me a much more worthless person than I would've been to start, as nothing could ever make me feel better about who I was. My attempts at happiness have been mad plunges towards some vaunted goal that could only have ended in disappointment. My attempts at finding happiness in relationships have all been forced attempts at reclaiming happiness, and unsuccessful as a result. Nothing could have ever been monumental enough to shake off my disposition as I would make the problems in my head larger everyday.

My entire "young-adult" life has been spent with me running furiously on a treadmill, working tirelessly towards some dream of who I should be.

Now, I don't know what to do anymore. I can't make any weird scheme, and I'm just so tired of trying. And I'm tired of not-trying, too. I'm tired of this cycle of apathy and action I go through. Leaping forward and falling down. Then staying down for a while, and then a while longer, before slowly getting up, and leaping forward again.

I feel like running, as I often do. The easiest solution always seems like a fresh start somewhere where I'm unknown, with the belief in mind that I'll be different with these people at this place, only to stay the same for lack of knowledge of any other way to be.

I guess, really, the big change here is that instead of running, I'm staying. Not from confidence of things getting better if I do, but from assurance that things will get worse if I don't.

I give up. I don't know what to do anymore, or even what to want. I just know I'm tired.

And I claim I'm not excited with my life any more
So I blame this town, this job, these friends
The truth is it's myself
And I'm trying to understand myself
and pinpoint where i am
When I finally get it figured out
I've change the whole damn plan
Oh noose,
Tied myself in, tied myself too tight

So I'm pretty sure I'm done with this thing. I hardly use it anymore and I really don't even read my friends page, so I find it doubtful that I'll be updating much now. I won't go so far as to get rid of this journal, seeing as if I do start updating again I won't have to make a new one, but don't expect updates.

Overall, I'm also sort of become annoyed with the idea behind livejournal. It almost doesn't seem healthy, really. People use these things to bitch, and we give our completely one sided views on things happening in our lives which strangers will agree upon. And when they do, it just encourages you to become more entrenched in your own opinions. Not to say that it will make you more selfish, but it sure doesn't seem to prevent it.

I don't know, I'm rambling. But yeah, chances are I'll be back in a couple of months so don't defriend me yet.

Adios!

Hello, my name is Tyler, and I'm attracted to stuck up, pretentious bitches.

Is there a 12 step program for that?

I'm bored. That's right, I said it. I'm fucking bored. Seattle is officially no longer exciting. Something must be done to rectify this or I'm gonna implode. Life has become too comfortable and I need to start taking risks again.

At the very least, I will now be getting a new work schedule that should break the mold at least a little. Instead of working Thursday/Friday nights and Saturday/Sunday mornings (which obviously includes two back-to-back shifts that usually don't have sleep between them), I'll now be working day time shifts exclusively, giving me nights and afternoons off everyday. Having some consistency to my schedule should hopefully give me more energy so I don't just crash on my days off.

PS - This is completely random for this journal, but I'd like to add that I would totally fuck Feist. Not that she's offering.

I found out today that the kitchen manager for my restaurant is leaving, which is sad because he's a really cool guy, but this of course means we'll need a new kitchen manager. And who's being considered for it? ME. It would be an amazing opportunity. More money, more hours, more responsibility. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but still. It'd be cool.

Also, news in the complete opposite direction. As I mentioned previously, my entire family is moving east to Illinois, and now I may be too. I still love Seattle and I can't imagine not calling Washington State my home, but the more I think of it, the more plausible it seems.

It wouldn't be for at least 6 months, but I'm pretty sure that at the very least I will do my grad work in Chicago.

When hiking in the Pacific Northwest or anywhere else, avoid going up the trail that has a physical barrier in front of it.

Also, when you get to an elevation where theres about 2 feet of snow, consider turning back. And when you do finally accept the fact that there does not appear to be a top to that fucking mountain, do not attempt to JOG DOWN THE TRAIL.

On a completely, totally unrelated note to the above statements, I went hiking today, and aside for a few -minor- hiccups, it was nice scenery and fun. For a while.

I hate math. I hate that I have to jump through the hoop that is mathematics in order to have a career which will never use math in it ever ever ever.

I hate the fact that I hate math so much, as well. If I didn't hate math, then maybe I wouldnt have waited 3 years to take another math class, so now studying for my math placement test is made about 100 times worse than it would've been before.

I hate that this was not expected by my parents, who thought that with a little bit of studying I could test out of early level math and jump straight into a pre-calc class, and therefore have said that they will only pay for THAT math class, and I essentially can't take a prereq class in order to work my way up the food chain.

I hate that my family never sent me the math books they apparently just had lying around so I could study for the placement test, despite my many requests, and have no accused me of procrastination.

I hate that in order to pay for that lower level math class that I will quite obviously need to take, I'm going to have to take out a loan that will probably have a nice big fat 6% interest rate attached to it, which will of course be unsubsidized and will have no way to pay for it for years, so I'll probably be paying for this one math class for the next 10 years or so.

So in closing, I would like to give a nice big FUCK YOU to my parents for being cheap morons, a bigger FUCK YOU to the American Public School system for requiring me to take an erroneous subject in order to get to anything that actually matters with my career, and one huge FUCK YOU to the subject of math. I hate your polynomials, I hate your parabolas, I hate your expressions and your variables. I will never use you ever, so fuck off.

The cause of that fairly obnoxious I posted yesterday about how I've essentially become a fake Buddhist were a couple of things that are far worthier of their own entry than that shit was. Namely my family moving to a different time zone.

My father just got a job as a federal judge that will adjudicate cases in regards to social service, where he'll be making one hundred thousand dollars a year. It's an amazing thing that he deserves entirely, and I'm very happy for him. But, the catch is that the job will relocate him and my mother to Peoria, Illinois. My sister, after graduating college this year, will follow them and move to Chicago to find a job. My grandparents will move back to their former home in Wardell, Missouri. I, however, will be staying here.

It's hard to explain why this is freaking me out. I've obviously been alone for about 6 months now, during which I've seen my family only a handful of times, but there was something comforting about them being only half a state away. But now, not only will I see them less, I'll never have a reason to go back to Spokane. I could go there on a whim, but I wouldn't be home anymore. No one to see.

I really wish I could make sense of what it is that I want. Then I would at least know what to say when asked. But unfortunately, I don't. Never really have. I think too much about everything, trying to get a handle on every situation. Eventually I will reason away a problem by taking whatever steps necessary to bring about a conclusion.

In this way, I've repeatedly outwitted myself by moving in a direction that seems like progress to all around me, when in reality, all I'm really doing is running. I force my own hand because it's simply too much for me to even attempt to live in a state of flux.

So what's the point of this? The point is that I am a shitty Buddhist.

HA, didn't see that coming, did you?

But honestly, this is what I've been realizing about myself more and more. It's why I never talk about being Buddhist, because I feel like I've essentially given up on trying to do what I know is right for me.

It must sound naive to most people, who are used to religious (mainly Christian) whackos who define religion as a doctrine they must follow or pay the consequences. But for me, Zen Buddhism isn't a dogma in which I must follow however many rules to live a good life. It's a way of looking at everything, whether that be friendship, relationships, work, school, family, or myself.

So, you may be asking, if I believe in Zen Buddhism whole-heartedly, how could I be a shitty Buddhist?

I'm a shitty Buddhist because I have these beliefs, but do not act differently as a result, which essentially does make me like one of those right wing evangelical christian douchebags who don't practice what they preach. I've become a hypocrite. I believe one thing, yet do another.

Which brings me back to the beginning. I should learn to accept a lack of finality. I should stop seeking a resolution to problems for which there is none, because I am only grasping at thin air. Problems like my parents moving from Spokane to Illinois, for instance, therefore leaving me even further away. More on that later, by the way.

I need to learn to accept that I can not conquer every problem. I do not have to knock down every barrier that comes up before me. I do not need to fix every thing wrong that I find in a person, no matter how much I think I'm helping them. I can't change the inevitable, I can't make everything right for everyone all the time, I can't make all my worries disappear at once, I can't control everything. I am not a god.

Life is suffering. I cannot change that, and everything I will ever do will only be learning how to cope with that in one way or another, just like everyone else. Accept that, and stop trying to run from it.

(This entry contains a mildly unpleasant bit of TMI. You have been warned.)

I'm moving into a new apartment on Thursday, and I am somewhat constipated. This is why these two things are related:

As most of you know, I smoke, and have done so for years. Recently, I was getting up to a pack a day, which was very annoying. Not for all that health related crap, but a pack a day is fucking expensive in Washington State, and I realized that I was now spending over 150 dollars a month on cigarettes. For a while that wasn't a problem, since my rent was low enough for me to spend money frivolously, but the place I'm moving into this week is 200 dollars more expensive, so I decided to switch to the cheaper method of making my own cigarettes with a packer in order to be able to afford to eat.

So heres where the problem is: since I've started making my own cigarettes, I've been smoking a lot less AND I've been smoking American Spirit tobacco, which is additive-free. While that means that I won't get any of that nasty crap the cigarettes companies put in Marbs or Camels, it also means that a cigarette takes twice as long to smoke (all those nasty additives are in there to make the cigarette burn faster).

The result is sort of surprising, in that I'm going through nicotine withdrawals. My 20 cigarettes a day has gone down to maybe 5, and the effects are becoming noticeable in that I have become, as stated above, annoyingly constipated.

For those of you who don't know, and I am sure that there are many of you, there are a few health benefits to smoking. Seriously. In addition to halving your chances of getting Parkinson's and Alzheimer's and lowering women's chances of getting breast cancer, nicotine acts as a laxative. A laxative that makes you smell bad, but a laxative nonetheless.

Now, imagine my problem right now. Here I am with a new found way of not only dramatically reducing the amount of poison I inhale a day, but also DECIMATING my smoking expenses, yet I CAN'T GO TO THE BATHROOM. Why don't they talk about that in anti-smoking commercials? Telling kids that if they ever try to cut down or quit smoking my make them irregular seems like a more immediate threat then maybe getting cancer 40 years after they start smoking, if you ask me.

Fuck you, insomnia. Fuck you in the ear. I slept 3 hours last night, woke up at 7:40, and have to do so again tomorrow TODAY. Yet I can't sleep, because you are a bitch, insomnia.

I hate you I hate hate hate you.

In other news, I am now an officially ordained minister after paying 20 bucks online. Who wants to get married?!

I went to the Seattle Art Museum for the first time today with a friend, and while I was generally impressed with what I saw there, it wasn't until I reached a certain section that I became what can only be described as giddy.

That section was, of course, the Egyptian section. As much as I've obsessed over Egypt throughout my entire fucking life, I'd never actually seen anything from it up close. When we entered the room, the first thing I saw was a stone fragment of hieroglyphics and my heart actually skipped a beat. What would have been passively interesting for just about any sane person was like staring into the empyrean for me.

In addition to making me ridiculously excited, it of course made me again wonder if psychology is really the path I should take for my career. Yes, I'd like to help people, but I sometimes feel like I've resigned myself to it. It's not a field that really piques my interest, it's just what I'm naturally good at. I can read people without even trying and for some god-awful reason, people will open up to me and I, somehow, am good at helping those people when they need it better than most.

It would be nice to say that I have any more insight into what I should do with my life than I did a year ago, or that moving to Seattle has helped me sort it out any better, but unfortunately I don't and it hasn't. I'm just as confused as ever.

Oh, and don't give me any of that "you're young and you have your whole life a head of you" nonsense, by the way. I actually have very little time to decide, since having my AA almost done at the age of 19 makes it so I have to start concentrating on my major the very moment I start school again. Which is annoying.

One of the best things about moving to Seattle is gaining a better appreciation of Dan Savage and his sex-advice column, Savage Love that appears in The Stranger. One question that appeared in this weeks issue just had to be shared:

I realize Savage Love is a sex-advice column (as evidenced by much vulgar language), but I'm going to ask anyway.

(1) What is your definition of love?

(2) How do you know if you're in "love"?

(3) How do you know if they're the "one"?
Anonymous

(1) Love is making out with someone after you've blown a load on his/her face.

(2) You know you're in love when you're eating breakfast in a restaurant together the morning after he/she blew a load on your face and you suddenly realize that you didn't wash your face when you got out of bed that morning and you don't care.

(3) You know he/she is the one when he/she realizes that you've just realized that you're eating breakfast in a restaurant the morning after he/she blew a load on your face and you didn't wash your face when you got out of bed that morning and he/she smiles, leans over the table, and gives you a kiss.

Truer words have never been spoken typed.

YOU.

I need your opinion, you. Since I have decided I won't be going to school next quarter after all (long story), I'm looking for a social outlet other than home and work. As much as I like my roommates and coworkers, I want to do something where I can go out and meet new people. This is because I get bored easily.

Thing is, I have no idea what that social outlet thing should actually be.

Throw some ideas at me.

Come on people, let's do it.

Seriously.

My grandfather died 10 minutes ago.

Everyone in my family was there, except for me. I had to be back in Seattle today so I could make crepes for yuppies.

Why is it that the status quo of father/son relationships is for them to be so fucked up that at the very best, they still can't sit down and talk like regular human beings?

So as of yesterday, I'm now 19. Most people have basically said the same thing to me about it:

"Happy Birthday! You're 19! ... Kind of a shitty age, actually."

Oh well. Telling people I'm 19 when they think I'm 20 isn't as strangely awkward as telling them I'm 18.

In other news, I'm back in Spokane until Thursday morning to spend time with my family. It's very surreal. I had really forgotten just how... bland this town is. Certain things I've missed, but within 5 minutes of being back here I had remembered why I left.

Awesome.