NOTHING GETS CROSSED OUT

If I had a nickel for every time I started a post called "Nothing Gets Crossed Out" and did not complete it, I'd be a rich man. This post is like MacBeth... It's cursed.

Every time I title a post "Nothing Gets Crossed Out", I'm upset with myself over my lack of initiative, passion, drive, desire, and attitude. As the song goes, "It's too hard to focus through all this doubt,/I keep making these to-do lists but nothing gets crossed out".

It's one of my favorite songs, but it's definitely my favorite bad mood song that wasn't written by Morrissey.

Without further adieu, here's a post about my ambitions and my failure to even attempt to achieve them. There have been many posts regarding this subject before. I hate to think that there will be more like it in the future, but I'd be crazy to say that I honestly think I won't post something like this again.

I told a friend that there have been many points in my life during which I couldn't remember the last time I felt happy but that lately I can't remember the last time I felt depressed, and that was true.

Today, however, I became majorly disappointed in myself over something minor. Once I become disappointed-even if over something minor-I invariably recall everything I've ever done to disappoint myself or (presumably) my parents. (I can't recall a time that my parents have claimed to be disappointed in me, and I doubt that they have not been disappointed by at least something I've said or done.) This almost invariably results in a blog post. Whether I complete it or not is another matter.

When I reflect on my short life, I see some great things. I see a happy childhood. I see great parents who raised me right. I see good friends whom I love (I'm glad to still be friends with all of the best [using 'best' to describe quality] friends I've had in my life, save one).

But already, after just twenty-three years, I see a lot of wasted potential.

This fact is rather distressing.

Until nine years ago, girls were interested in me. Until eight years ago, I was athletic and in shape. Until six years ago, I was intelligent.

Since then, I have struggled with anxiety, depression, and substance abuse (this is the first time I've come to grips with this fact). My anxiety and depression are most likely largely imagined. The substance abuse was an attempt at abating self-inflected symptoms of psychological disorders.

The point is: I've squandered many opportunities.

I could have gotten good grades in college. I could have maintained my health. I could have been involved in a meaningful relationship.

But nothing gets crossed out.

I make plans, I write lists, I threaten myself.

Without fail, the plans, lists, and threats are quickly forgotten.

I have some very simple goals in my life: 1.) have a career, 2.) exercise and eat healthy foods, 3.) read novels frequently, 4.) learn to play an instrument, 5.) become good at chess.

I don't know what it's going to take to turn my desire into resolve. It's not like I'm asking myself to cure cancer. Until I take action, my goals will go unaccomplished. All of my desires are so simple. I enjoy (or presume I will enjoy) nearly all of them...

It's like I want myself to be unhappy.

This post feels incomplete, but it will have to do for now.

Darren.

THINK FOR YOURSELF

Until recently, the very thought of spending August in Buenos Aires was enough to put a smile to my face. Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I don't smile unless I'm laughing or being photographed. This hearkens memories of the Morrissey lyric "I've seen you smile, but I've never really heard you laugh", though, for me, it's the opposite.

So, I was very surprised last week when, after a dreadful two hour lecture for my summer school class on the evolution of the presidency, I found myself grinning like a madman. I realized that merely thinking of going to Argentina brought a smile to my face.

This happiness, however, has since diminished.

Lately, I've had the sneaking suspicion that my Dad is disappointed in me. With my sister currently in basic training at West Point, my family has a lot to be proud of-especially around Independence Day. She, like my Dad, has a work ethic that rivals... Well... Somebody with a lot of work ethic. Ah, Benjamin Franklin! I just read his autobiography in which he claimed that industriousness was the virtue that came to him most naturally. This is a great example to fit the pro-American vibe of this paragraph. Anyway, when comparing my sister's work ethic with mine... There's no comparison.

Anyway, the aforementioned suspicion was all but confirmed this weekend. I'm in summer school because I didn't pass one of my classes last term... Notice I didn't say failed. F is failing... So, anything that isn't an F is passing, right? Apparently, only C- or above is passing. Go figure. Either way, my Dad was not at all pleased with this result, or the money he'd have to spend putting me through school these six weeks because I'm flat broke. I was disappointed in myself, and this likely contributes to the feeling that I've disappointed my Dad, but I'm nearly certain that independent of my disappointment in myself I'd feel the same way. This past weekend, though he told me, in essence, you're lazy as hell. Regarding that comment: 1) it bothers me that I'm so lazy regardless of his comments, 2) it sucks to hear someone whose validation you seek to say that.

So here I am writing this post.

Thinking about disappointment, some other worries have surfaced. I'm very worried that my poor GPA will preclude me from attending an MBA program that meets my standards. One such program is IESE in Barcelona (the beauty of whose main building rivals UCLA's), which has become my dream school. I can, however, improve my GPA if I file two petitions in a timely manner, and these are approved (God willing, this would be a huge weight of my shoulders). But this places a large amount of trust in people other than me, my friends and my family, and we all know how unreliable those people can be. I very much hope that, over the next few years, I can excel in the five areas besides GPA that such programs consider.

But, one of those factors is work experience. Having work experience requires that something haunting from my past does not surface. Again, this can be alleviated if I appeal to the right people, but I am very skeptical that the means at my disposal are apt.

So, these are my worries. I hope you enjoyed reading about them as much as I enjoyed making them public.

Darren.

HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED/BOB DYLAN WROTE PROPAGANDA SONGS

Really, this song has nothing to do with the song "Highway 61 Revisited" except for the fact that I intend, in some way, to revisit what was discussed in the previous post. I chose to include a photograph of Bob Dylan found in the liner notes of that album. No sooner did I hear "Bob Dylan Wrote Propaganda Songs", as I was listening to Minutemen. Really, this is irrelevant. Let's get to the good stuff. And when I say good stuff, I actually mean it.

When I wrote my last post, I was under a great deal of stress. I reread what I wrote, and I sounded hopeful, and perhaps happy wouldn't be too much of a stretch. At the moment, though, I am truly quite happy.

The sames stressors that existed mere days ago are still present, and ever more pressing. However, I am much less anxious about them, though very little effort has been made in their direction. I suppose you could say I'm confident that things will work out my way.

I found this idea surprising enough to blog about it, though: I am happier about the things I don't have than the things I do. I don't have an STD, a baby mama, a mortgage... Of course, I'm only kidding.

I looked through a photo album today. In it, I saw a lot of great pictures of my friends, happy and smiling, enjoying each other's company. I have felt very separate from these people, mostly because I myself have imposed boundaries (with my "cold exterior"-a concept with which I could not disagree more, but which is apparently perceived by others).

Looking back on my college experience and reflecting, I am, in many ways, glad that it was a rather negative one. This reality compels me to reinvent myself. I know many changes are not at all gradual, but I am intent to find my passion in life. I have a clearer picture now than ever those things that I truly love: reading, writing and being outside. There are so many things I want to explore (as listed in the previous post). More importantly, there are so many places I want to see. Even if I see only a few of them, I will be very happy.

Really what it boils down to is that those things that I lack currently do-and should continue to (should as a prescriptive term-not that I expect it to)-motivate me. I want to fill a photo album of great pictures of me and people I love-people who understand me, people who love me, people who share my passion-whatever that is.....

Darren.

REINTRODUCING

Over the past few months, certain occurrences have prompted me to begin posts, and others have forced me to abandon each attempt. My readers have certainly heard my take on the notable events in my life during this period of non-blogging, so I will not revisit these observations.

As my sister graduated high school this weekend, I've been thinking quite a bit about my future. This includes: performing satisfactorily on two essays and three exams, graduating from UCLA (de jure, not de facto), taking a course I have already passed to satisfy the ridiculous requirements of the UCLA Department of Political Science, travelling to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and then...

Well, that is yet to be determined. I may move to Portland. I may move to Memphis. I hope, still, to move to San Francisco. At this point, I think it's more than likely that I will end up somewhere unexpected.

So, as I sit here and fret over my academic performance over the next two weeks, I can't help but be very excited. I have lived a privileged-or, in the vernacular of my newly rediscovered Catholicism, blessed-life. I believe-or, have faith-that this will continue, whether as a result of my own doing (good karma), my family's desire for me to succeed, or good fortune.

All I know is that in six months from now, I'll be living somewhere I likely never suspected I'd live. Most likely, I have never been to this mystery destination.

After a disappointing run through four years of college, I am determined to conduct myself differently. I have not yet discovered my passion, and this is my quest. I hope to revisit some of my former exploits, and to try new things as well. I know, without a doubt, that I will volunteer wherever I live. Apart from the past four years, philanthropy was a large part of my life. It's rewarding in more ways than is easy to fathom, so I won't begin to list them now.

I also want to play baseball again. I haven't in six years, and I think my time away from it has made me fonder of it now than I was when I played it. I watch baseball almost daily now, and have reignited my love for the game.

I have played drums a bit, and have been rewarded by my efforts. I think, given how little I've actually played, that I'm quite good, and exhibit a lot of potential. Again, this is something I hope to revisit. Music lessons are almost definitely in my future.

I'd also like to train in the martial arts again, but I'm not sure I'd realistically have the time. That's because I'd like to do one of the following that I've never done before: take cooking class or dance lessons.

All of the above serve many purposes: broadening my horizons, exposing me to other people, helping make friends, improving myself or others or the community at large, and other individual purposes (making me a better cook, helping get me back in shape, etc.)

I'm not sure if this is an appropriate time to end this post-I feel there is much more to be explored. However, I'm tired. I may decide to amend this tomorrow, but I feel good after having written an entire post for the first time in 2011.

Darren.

MAKING CHRISTMAS

First, I offer my apologies to any frequent readers I may still have (though I'm sure there are few or none) for the infrequency of my posts. Consider this my Christmas present to you. I'd also like to inform you that I have experienced a Christmas miracle-after having attended scarcely more than 10% of my lectures this past term, I got B grades in all my classes-far better than I could have ever hoped.

But, that's beside the point. As you may have gathered from the title of this post (if you're a devout fan) or certainly gathered from the video, this is a post about The Nightmare Before Christmas. I'd like to describe why it is my personal favorite Christmas movie.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of Christmas movies. After all, it is the second best holiday of the year! Watching A Christmas Story is a family tradition. I can't remember a single Christmas morning during which A Christmas Story was not providing the background to my family and me opening our presents from Santa Claus.

Equally dear to my heart is A Charlie Brown Christmas because I've always been a huge fan of Charles Schultz's portrayal of children with huge adult personalities parading in children's bodies (whether in the comic or the animated Christmas special). Of course, few stories are as heart-warming as It's a Wonderful Life which has one of my all-time favorite actors, Jimmy Stewart, in the lead role. Last, Miracle on 34th Street is a Christmas classic that will be broadcast on television for many Christmases to come-it's as close to the complete package as you can expect from a Christmas movie.

This is all, of course, beside the point. The Nightmare Before Christmas has something none of the others have. I'm not referring to the dark imagery. I'm not referring to the stop-motion animation (of which I am a huge fan [not as much in Nightmare as in this]). I'm not referring to Tim Burton, which is the shirtless guy in the video above's favorite element. (Yes... I do know him personally... Though I hate to admit it).

I think it's heart-warming that the scariest man in Halloween Town, The Pumpkin King Jack Skellington tries to bring Christmas to his frightful compatriots. Even as the most beloved man in town, however, he is somewhat of a misfit. The love and flattery of the townspeople are not enough for Jack.

After the most successful Halloween in Halloween Town's history which prominently featured Jack as the center attraction, he finds some time alone to soliloquize-in song-that something was missing from his life. Shortly after which, he stumbles upon Christmas Town and becomes enamored by its charms. I can hardly do this discovery justice-Christmas Town is the ideal white Christmas-filled with happy children, elves, and of course, Santa Claus (cleverly rendered Sandy Claws by the ignorant Jack). Jack is overjoyed by the concept of bringing-well, joy-to children instead of scaring them.

He promptly returns to Christmas Town to inform his loyal following of his discovery. No one quite seems to understand. In a town of monsters and misfits, Jack is an outcast-which I love. Frustrated with their inability to comprehend the nature of gift-giving and spreading holiday joy, he embarks on a journey to explain Christmas to them logically. He borrows a science kit from Dr. Frankenstein-I mean, Dr. Finkelstein-and puts candy canes and tree ornaments through rigorous tests. After his fruitless efforts, he comes to the discovery that he ought to give Sandy Claws a vacation and distribute gifts to the nice children of the world. He enlists the help of the people of Halloween Town, and things go awry.

As was stated earlier, they'd rather spread horror than joy on Christmas. Jack is too "wrapped" up in his scheme to realize how terrible the gifts are. Most of them come to life to scare children or are composed of dead animals. Sally, who reveals her feelings for Jack by sending him a care package while he's locked away conducting his experiments, is given the most important mission from Jack: to sew his Santa outfit. Three miscreants (Lock, Shock and Barrel) are to kidnap Sandy Claws to let him know he has Christmas Eve off, and to provide Jack with more information on him.