Epiphany (sorta)

I had an extremely weird experience this past weekend that lead to a weird epiphany of sorts, I think. But I’ll get to that.

So, as is probably already aparent, I self harm, have done so for years, and had not labeled it as anything bad until this past year or so. It’s just kind of something that I do…some people always write in cursive, some people always read the sports section of the newspaper first. Me, I always bite the skin off my fingers. Nothing weird about that O_o

Anyway, generally I have good days and bad days, as I’m sure most people do. Some days I don’t do anything, and my fingers and arms get a welcome chance to heal. Other days, not five minutes go by without some part of my body getting scratched, bitten, torn at, or stabbed. This past Saturday was a remarkably good day…the weather was warm and the snow was melting, I was feeling pretty damn good about myself, and I hadnt bled at all that day. Then, for no reason at all, at 11:30 at night I suddenly realized that for the past 15 minutes I had been sitting on my bed biting like crazy and removing freckles from my arms with my fingernails. Thats not the weird part though.

The weird part was the sudden rapid-fire thought sequence I had while sitting there. I can’t recall exactly what I thought about, but it was fairly straightforward and essentially ended with me realizing that I have aparently always wanted to feel what getting a piercing would feel like. I don’t have any piercings, and, to be very clear, I do not want body jewelry of any kind, nor have I ever. But, I wanted to feel what it felt like to get a piercing.

So what did I do? I thought it over, mulled it around, and decided that the health risks involved with giving myself a piercing - potential infection, complications, and lack of proper tools - vastly outweighed any perverted benefit I would get from doing something like that.

HAHA JUST KIDDING. I pierced my ear with a sewing needle I pulled out of my mom’s sewing kit.

Here is the exact procedure I used: I found a thin sewing needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a lighter. Next, I went into the bathroom and ran the needle through the open flame. Then I wiped the needle with alcohol to get the detrius off, and, bracing the back of my ear with a bar of soap, I slowly pushed the needle through my earlobe.

After it was through, I sat in the bathroom, on the edge of the tub in fact, just kind of listening to the pain resonate through my brain like some sick symphony. I didn’t take the needle out for about 5 minutes, and only then cus I noticed it was starting to swell. It actually hurt alot less than I had thought it would.

And just to restate, I never had the intention of making a permanent hole in my body. I don’t want a piercing. Right now, my ear is currently healing expeditiosly and healthily. So far, nobody has noticed the small scab.

Anyway, we now (finally) get to the epiphany-ish-thing. While I was sitting there with a neelde through my ear, I had the sudden realization that, really, we only have one body. Our souls might live on after our bodys have decomposed, or perhaps they die along with our bodies, I won’t get into that argument now. But one thing that I can say for certain is that we only have one body in this world, and the damage I do to my body may take years to heal completely. Some day I want the scars to fade, the aching to vanish…someday, I realized, I really do want my body to forgive me for all of the shit I’ve done to it. And I realized that, if that is ever going to happen, I need to start now.

So, for the past few days, I have been on a major “my body is my temple” type of kick. I’ve been carefully excersizing, eating healthy, and doing whatever else I can think of to try and be as body-concious as possible. I have not stopped the self harming…I don’t know how to stop, it’s so ingrained in my daily habituation that I don’t think I can right now, and when I do it will be after a long battle to get there. But, for now at least, I feel as though my health routine gives me, if nothing else, then at least a piece of mind.

And finally, in a desperate attempt to try and make sure this health kick doesnt turn in to just another phase that will eventually be destroyed by fast food and soda, here’s my (new) daily routine. Maybe if it’s up on here it will convince me to stick with it.

• In the morning I have two cups of tea: a cup of black tea for the caffein kick, and a cup of green tea cus its good. The green is double steeped, with straight unprocessed tea leaves for the first and processed flavored tea for the second.
• I also have a cup of orange juice or cranberry juice and some vitamins, and a bowl of cereal.
• For lunch I have a couple pieces of whatever the cafeteria is serving. This is generally not strictly healthy, but its more the fact that its food.
• Usually between lunch and the end of school I snack on lunch leftovers, which are generally either pretzels or spicy pretzel chunks.
• When I get home from school I re-steep the unprocessed green tea, this time without a double steep. I also have a cup of black tea or chai. (My family is really big into tea…we have lots of different kinds and flavors, all of it very special direct-from-the-plantation stuff. I’m not sure exactly why, since I’m the only one in my family that drinks it regularly)
• After doing some homework, I try to go outside for a little bit. I have a theory: being outside for any length of time is infinitely healthier than sitting on your ass inside all day.
• On certain days, after that, I go to Taekwondo for some exersize and anger management.
• After TKD I come home, do more homework, re-steep the unprocessed green tea for a third time (always three times in a day), and play with my bird before putting him to bed.
• Finally, after dinner, and usually around 10:00pm, I do a quick cardio workout in the basement: windsprings on a cycle or something like that. Then, once I’m all exausted and sweaty, I have a milk with Carnation Instant Breakfast Nutritional Powder of Doom (my mom’s a nutritionist) and take a second, quick shower.
• Then I go to bed. Or try to. Usually I end up staying up for a little while, which is probably that healthy, but I’m workng on that.

That probably doesnt seem like an incredible, health-nut livesaving list, but what’s important to me is the fact that I do that consistantly every day. Once I establish it as habit, I can build on it. Till then, I’m satisfied with that.

And, this is a LONG post. Just thought I’d point that out.

To see this post in full context and with available background information, check out http://statetheradio.wordpress.com/

Stabby Days

This is from a couple days ago on http://statetheradio.wordpress.com/, I forgot to put it up here. Sorry =/

Today was a stabby day. I’m not sure why. Well, actually I have some clues.

When I woke up this morning my whole body seemed to be protesting being alive. I actually felt pretty cheerful, but physically I was not in tip top shape. My face was swolen and hurt really badly, I think because I’m allergic to wool or down or something in my bed. I could barely open my eyes, which also hurt. And my jaw KILLED. I think that is because I slept on my stomach and I think when I do that I clench my jaw.

All this is actually pretty normal for me waking up, but it was more extreme this morning.

Then when I got into the shower my foot cramped so badly I nearly fell over. It has been doing that on and off for the past week or so, and when I asked a friend who was a military medic for 30 years what he thought might be wrong, he said I might have a stress fracture. I don’t know how I would get a stress fracture in my foot…I’m not very physically active at all, my daily excersize usually consists of playing the fiddle.

And then [k] came over for a ride into school and sprinkled some salt on the morning wound. Like usual.

And, rightmeupnow: YOU ARE SO RIGHT I don’t know why I can’t get myself into gear enough to do it. I have plenty of excuses but none of them are legit.

So today was a stabby day. I didn’t actualy stab anybody, but I came pretty damn close. Fucking mainer shithead. He was reaching into my jeans pocket to try and get my car keys and he almost lost his hand when I pulled a ninja move on him - I slid out of my chair and onto my knees so that the pocket kind of closed around his hand and trapped him cus he was at an awkward angle anyway, and then I grabbed his wrist and twisted it nicely around. He’s terrified of me now I think.

And also, I guess this is a pretty pointless post, but its the first time I’ve felt this shitty in a while so I thought I’d mark the occasion. Cheers.

Happy March!

Hope you remembered to say “rabbit rabbit rabbit” this morning!

^ that is what happens when I eat one of those toxic Fun Dip things at 11:30 pm.

…I think I’ll call him Larry.

Anyway, I don’t really have anything particularly important to post about, so this is definitely going to be a fairly weak shadow in comparison to rightmeupnow’s last few posts (which were just…awesome =] ). First, just want to give a big thanks to everybody who’s been reading/commenting/etc. We broke 1,100 hits yesturday, and even though thats nothing compared to most of the blogs out there, its still a really cool milestone.

I dug this next bit out of a notebook from a year or two ago, and it kind of applies to where I am right now, so I’ll copy it over and then maybe elaborate.

There’s a very painful difference between writing and not really having anything to say, and having something to say but being unable to articulate it. This extends into the desiderata as well. Often, when we are at a crucial junction in our lives, we can find it very difficult to find the right words, and conversely, when we find ourselves in a relative state of calm or ‘forward movement’, we may have all the desire and capacity in the world to write and have nothing of significance to say.

In the end, though, if under either circumstance a piece of writing is produced, it matters little what state of thinking the author was in when he produced it. What matters after the pen has marked the page is the content and quality of the writing, for under either circumstance both great works and literary trainwrecks can be created.

Really, then, the only difference between the two is the one percieved by the writer. If the writier can master conveying the feel of either one of these states of mind while experiencing the opposing - and not necessarily purposefully - then this writer has transcended the root of this dilemma, and for him now, though the dilemma may still exist, it has ceased to be apparent to his readers.

Also, my bird has discovered that if he pecks a certain button on the computer it causes it to go into Hibernation Mode. Since discovering this 15 minutes ago, and despite my best efforts to stop him, he has managed to send the computer into hibernate 3 times. It is making it VERY DIFFICULT to write.

[see this post in full context at http://statetheradio.wordpress.com/]

The Good Things

I am constantly amazed at the power of human beings. Truly. I am amazed at how warm the hand of a complete stranger can be, reaching out. This is the post I was going to put up last night, but I'm glad I held off because now I have even more amunition to build the case that there are truly beautiful selfless people in the world.

I'll start with the most recent stuff. I want to give huge thanks to both Kiss Tony and Tristan for featuring State the Radio on their blogs, and for their comment. It is humbling to be the recipient of such anonymous generosity and kindness, and it really makes me feel good to know that connections can be so easily made between people when the need is there. Going to bed feeling like shit sucks, nobody likes that, but when you wake up to a simple act of kindness and care such as that, you can't help but know that the day is going to be brighter. I strongly encourage people to check out both Kiss Tony's blog [http://kisstony.blogspot.com/], and Tristan's blog [http://thegenesischildren.wordpress.com/], especially if you are a gay teen looking for some proof that other people like you exist in the world.

The original idea for this post came from a conversation I had with rightmeupnow. We were talking about how the little tiny things, the completely unknown hands reaching out from the darkness to try and pull you up, can mean so much more than alot of people think. A smile from a stranger can be the difference between a shitty day and an ok day, and a simple compliment can pull somebody from the edge of hopelessness. Rightmeupnow and I both know this from experience, and I'm sure there are many people out there who have experienced these "random acts" of kindness before and have had their days brightened up by total strangers.

I won't ramble on with the details of every single time I've been impressed by the simple kindness of human beings, but I will share the story I shared with rightmeupnow during our conversation. There's not much to it, really, but I guess thats sort of the point: I had been having a rough couple of days, and I was sitting in Spanish class one morning and the teacher came up to me out of the blue and asked (in Spanish) if I was ok. This is a teacher I have always admired for her bright personality and genuine interest in the wellbeing of her students, but even so I was surprised by this; I hadn't really thought I'd been acting any differently than normal. I was surprised, and I was touched by the fact that she was perceptive enough to notice the minute change in character I must have had. All she said was "estás bien?" meaning roughly "are you ok?", but she kind of kneeled down next to my chair and said it quietly. She wasn't creepy about it or anything, and she didnt act like it was a big deal, she just asked and didn't persue the point when I said "sí, estoy bien". What was really humbling, though, was that the next week she came up to me again and, smiling, said that I looked better this week and that she was glad. She didn't say anything else, didn't ask questions, she just made the quiet comment and then continued on with the class.

I can't help but feel deeply moved by such selfless caring. I think that is probably the characteristic I admire most among people, and to me these people are angels in their own right. Many people who have an impact on somebody in this way will probably never know how much they affected the person they complimented or smiled at or talked to, yet it really can make a world of difference to a person who is struggling.

It doesn't have to be anonymous of course. I can't count the number of times that I have had my day brightened by rightmeupnow, simply asking how I'm doing or even just talking to me about any old subject.

There is a State Radio song that goes, "people to people are so unjust..." While I think that this is true all over the world in many situations, there are also countless unheard and untold examples of people doing a simple justice to someone else. It is important to remember that when somebody is falling, they don't look at the hands that are reaching down to grab them, but instead reach back and clasp those hands with all their strength.

So please, keep this in mind. If you ever find yourself in a position of being able to reach out a hand, know that that simple gesture can make all the difference.

And on a final note, we'd really love to hear any stories of anonymous kindness and generosity that you readers might have, whether it be something that somebody has said or done to you to brighten your day up, or something you've witnessed or heard about. If you have a story and feel like sharing, send it to statetheradio@gmail.com. It would be cool to start a page of "anonymous kindness experiences" or something to that effect.

[see the State the Radio blog here http://statetheradio.wordpress.com/ for this post in full context]

Dedicated to...

I was actually going to write a happy little post about how awesome people are, because I was in that kind of mood. “was” being the key word. Instead, I’m gonna post something I found on an ancient relic of a website that hasn’t been updated for 10 years. I’ve been listening to a song that my friend wrote and we recorded recently, and even though its a rough mix, for some reason listening to that song while I was reading this archaic website clicked something inside.

The website is about a boy that killed himself. This is his suicide note, as posted by the website:

Dear Alex,
It’s difficult to know where to start,
but I’ll do it by saying sorry. I’m sorry I
left you, I’m sorry I broke the promise. You
helped me so much, but when pain reaches the
limit it all means nothing. You know that.
Next I want to say thank you. You
dedicated your life to me, and I failed. You
were my shoulder to cry on. You got me off the
sh*t, but here I sit pumped full of it. I’m
not as strong as you.
I have written a note to my mum telling
her everything. I wanted her to know how much
you helped me.
Sorry, and I love you.

Darren

According to the website, it was written by a mid-teen to his boyfriend, on Friday, February 6th, 1998 . The website, created about 9 months after the boy Darren killed himself, was created by Alex, to whom the letter is addressed. The website goes on to explain that he [Alex] believes the reason Darren killed himself was because of all the shit he took about his homosexuality, but also says that it never was, and never will be, really clear. It can’t be doubted, however, that the abuse he took because of his sexual orientation had some part in it.

I can’t begin to describe how furious and sad this makes me. It reminds me horribly of a kid I knew very briefly named Max who killed himself.

I have a quote, which I have written inside every notebook I known and have now memorized, that embodies this. I’m having difficulty articulating at the moment, so I’ll end this post with that quote:

“We are a special people, surviving a silent holocaust. I cannot tell you how many bright youngsters I know, both directly and indirectly, that have taken their own lives because they were not heterosexual. Those people who push these bright kids to extinguish their own flame far before their time, they are evil beyond human measure. And those silent souls who die sad and alone, they are the true angels of the world.”

Kicking Things Off

Is there any justification to be ashamed of who you are? My brain tells me no, but its very difficult to believe that sometimes. Is there any justification to doubt the choices you once made with unmovable conviction? My brain tells me that it is always ok to have a little doubt; so why do I feel so horrible about doubting myself? Why do I feel like I am betraying little 4th grade me? Why do I feel like I am betraying my parents, my family, my friends? I am trying to be proud of who I am, trying to trust in the decisions I have made while at the same time lamenting the fact that I know I made wrong decisions and its too late to correct these. [The rest of this post is probably going to dissolve into a major vent, so you could probably get off just reading the first line of each paragraph or something]

I want to be proud that I am gay, I want to see it as a unique and interesting, but socially insignificant trait of character. Fuck you mom and dad, fuck you little brother, fuck you to almost all of my friends. I've been told that if I came out to all of these people, they would still love me and treat me with respect, and that I'm only hurting myself by keeping the secret. Honestly, as much as I would love to believe this, I have a damn hard time with it.
My parents are already distant, they don't know much that goes on in my life, and they are hopelessly naive in that they still believe everything is fine and dandy; they haven't noticed me struggling and they haven't noticed my little brother struggling (though to their credit, they have had their hands full worrying about my disabled older brother and the worsening conditions of my various grandparents). In addition, I know for a fact that my mom is a homophobe. My dad probably wouldnt care so much, but what shaky relationship strings I have still tied to my mom would definitely be strained.
My younger brother's favorite insult is "gay" or "queer". He's a typical teenage little brother, but I've always felt as though he should have been the one born first, if that makes sense. He's three years yonger than me, but he takes after my dad's side of the family, whereas I take after my mom's. He's broad-shouldered, naturally athletic, sharp, and tall. I'm thin in comparison, I don't have much muscle mass, and its only gonna be a few more months before little bro is taller than I am. He can easily push me around and I can't do much but throw a snide remark. Sometimes we get along really well, but mostly we are at eachother's throats. I simply can't believe that, were he to find out I'm gay, he wouldn't use it as a weapon against me.
My friends are probably the most forgiving of the lot, and I'm still terrified of telling the majority of them. I know most of them probably would continue to treat with respect, but I know at least a few that would definitely not want to hang around with me any more.

On a completely different note (wait for it!), my life outside of school consists almost entirely of music (and there's the pun). I love listening to music, playing music, absorbing music. If I could do nothing but music all day, I would. [I wish I could bleed music, that would make my various self-harming habits so much more enjoyable] I can't imagine giving up music. I don't think I could do it. And yet, my future-planning skills have failed miserably; I don't really see any way that I will be able to continue music during college, because, thanks to my parents, I have applied to only a few schools, and almost all of them are very prestigious schools that require exclusive focus on the major of choice. My parents think I'm going into biology or perhaps pre-med. Neither of those would allow me to continue my goals, which include playing mysic for at least an hour a day. I simply wouldnt have the down time to do that.
And I cannot believe how I got talked out of applying to a single music school. I'm not applying to any conservatory or school of music... I'm such a tool.

Oh and did I mention I'm going deaf? Slowly. My ears ring constantly. Don't worry, I don't listen to my ipod at 300000 decibels for 6 hours a day. I locked my ipod volume at 1/4 its full potential, and then make a point of never turning it up past half that again. My ears ring, and the ringing gets louder and louder every week, because I play the fiddle/violin, and the way a fiddle is played projects sound directly into the musician's left ear. My particular fiddle (a gorgeous Italian with a beautifully bright sound, built in 2001, for anybody that cares) projects sound particularly well, so 15 minutes of playing is plenty enough to make my ears ring. I mute the fiddle with a bandana shoved under the chinrest, but it doesn't work very well and when I'm performing with my band, I have to be amplified.
The benefit of ear ringing is nearly-perfect relative pitch, since my ears ring at discernible and fairly constant pitches.

Finally, I'm worried sick about a couple of my friends in particular. Just a few months ago I discovered that the most amazing person I know, a girl I have been friends with for a long time, is bulimic and severly depressed, occasionally suicidal, and just not in a good place.

Complain complain complain, there are people that have it much worse off. Like I think I mentioned, I want to talk to people who are in a similar situation or who can connect in some way to what I've been rambling about. If you feel like talking, contact me, either through a comment or through email [statetheradio@gmail.com]. If you don't have anything better to do, you can follow me and my good friend on our venting blog at http://statetheradio.wordpress.com/

Thanks for reading.