From then on, I quit the night scene for a good 3 months. I dated casually, nothing serious; mostly kept to myself. Among varying degrees of questionally productive activities, the lapse primarily encompassed two things: quality-time and re-alignment. Whether my ephiphany was directly ecstasy-infused or influenced by the surrounding crowds of people with obvious bad taste or the piles of scattered filth on the floor impeding all physical movement, I came to the abrupt realization of having been foolishly and unknowingly resigning myself to the severe disharmony caused by the cognitive distortions of unfulfillment.
By May, I had somewhat prioritized and incorporated what mattered into my life, but inner conflicts never ceased to erupt whenever I thought things to be under control. On my birthday, my mom bought me a pair of gray jeans. I threw an unforgiveable fit of unused, post-teenage rage for not receiving anything else. Then, I hated her for being unable to conceal in her bruised spirit the impact my sexual orientation had caused since coming out in november of 2007. I left the whole day to spend time with friends thinking she had "ruined" my birthday. She forgave me.
In June, I enrolled in a reading composition course. I did the work in class and spent most of my summer at home, avoiding the unrelenting heat while longing to be in Lima with family and friends. My mom had left the country to South America upon the arrival of my newly born nephew, Adrian(who is a baby supermodel in his own right) After two months of summer, I aced the course, and some time in between, two police men woke me up as they found that I was passed out drunk in the back floor mat of my car. Much was learned on that night, but not enough.
With Fall registration ahead, the fright of relapsing into last year's fiasco nearly cost me to close academic ties altogether, for a second time. Fall session began in late august, I didn't set any high expectations. Less than a week after we picked up my mom from LAX, I crashed my car on the way home from a friend's apartment late at night. My parents were visually upset as I explained myself with lies mixed in with favorable truths. Four replaced wheels later, the one-week inconvenience of being car-less never affected me and my attitude wasn't my best ally either. In turn, I was given a mild punishment for the accident, or incident: my car would safely rest on the driveway every weekend for the following two months.
Mid-September sucked. School life wasn't a problem, but my personal affairs were. I turned to books in hopes to find the applicable advice needed to put my unresolved demons to rest. Borders became a 21th century sanctuary. Helen Fisher, Daniel Coleman, Michael Gazzaniga, and Robert Greene were among my newly selected set of best friends. I completely immersed myself in their works of neuroscience, romantic love theories, emotional intelligence and women's use of seduction through out history.
My days fell into a pattern of volunteering, school, and Borders. In time, I had memorized the mechanics of every street light, and knew the best routes to take in the event of haste. School-work was always turned in on time. I was too caught up in classes to question whether the topics discussed were ever boring. Gradually, focus shifted away from my mind's persistence for finding unnecessary reasons to dwell. I spent a lot of time alone: small trips, reading by the beach, and often opted to stay home on nights where everyone in the world seemed to clandestinely unite for one big party. Weeks passed, I shifted attention from myself again to keep up with the presidential election and other news of global importance.
In late October, the days following Halloween were socially hectic. I went out for 2 consecutive weeks with friends and ran around like my old crazy self. This was the first year I had chosen to like Halloween. I even dressed up. My costume, to everyone's surprise(?), was a cat. Hardfest sucked. The whole night I was on the look-out for sharp corners to violently hit my head against in hopes for a concussion. Simian Mobile Disco were cool, but so were the two hot girls making out in front of me. I vowed to stay away from raves disguised as decent music concerts.
Having followed the presidential election closely, Obama's win didn't come as a big surprise. The passage of prop 8 caused me a great deal of indignation. Went to a rally, and my indignation only increased. A week later, I put all discomfort aside to re-assure myself that I was keeping pace with school. Along that time, I was given a much undeserved tongue-lashing via cell phone from someone who reminded me of my 16 year old self. Days later, I put the event behind me and held no contempt for the people involved. Obvious immaturity, I thought.
Presently, the main elements directing my life have smoothly come together. I am academically and personally satisfied. I have learned that the mind has a diabolical way to encapsulate and exaggerate problems which only need practical solutions, and that the heart can be cured even when one feels love's aftermath as incurable. The challenges of 2008 bolstered my personal development and I welcome further difficulty in the next year. In the mean time, I keep my head high.
Kisses.
