| (no subject) |
[Sep. 15th, 2004|12:37 pm] |
Man's laughter
No survivors |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 9th, 2004|09:22 pm] |
Philosophers Remind Us to Feel
A sonnet by Tim Dannay
Socrates and Aristotle live on through the years
They won’t be appeased; they won’t be pleased
Despite respect and cheers
Socrates and Aristotle are always being mentioned
Intermittently desired, but always inspired
They always seized attention
Socrates and Aristotle will forever be in thought
By fearing no blunder and making us wonder,
Making us love as we ought
Socrates and Aristotle, our companions and our pals
Heart beats to their purr; skin feels their soft fur
All more pleasing than Pascal
Waiting for our tears to dry and our pain to mend,
They were just cats to others, but to us they do transcend |
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| My journal has been reduced to this. |
[Jun. 15th, 2004|12:10 pm] |
| How to make a tim dannay |
Ingredients:
5 parts intelligence
5 parts courage
5 parts empathy |
Method:
Blend at a low speed for 30 seconds. Top it off with a sprinkle of wisdom and enjoy! |
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| Running fun starts Monday, June 14 |
[Jun. 10th, 2004|11:00 am] |
This is going to be the best damn running log you've ever seen. In other words, take me off your friends list, Zelda. ;)
Don't worry yet - I'll find time for some other entries, too. |
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| I need a rock-hammer |
[Apr. 24th, 2004|11:09 pm] |
My mom can put on a passable "I'm being supportive despite thinking you're a liar" act when she wants to, but it would be far more convincing if she at least made an effort to hide the "you're a liar" part. I overheard a piece of a phone conversation she had with my grandma, and one of her statements was as follows:
"[my dad] is taking Tim that weekend because I'll be in Vegas. [asshat] and Tim can't be alone in the house...there needs to be a witness there, to protect [asshat]."
To protect asshat, she says.
Meanwhile, she has also failed to notice that every time she leaves the computer, she leaves her Microsoft Outlook window open, with the most recent email she received showing on screen. One of these, I noticed, was from my dad. And it was about my visit with the therapist. So, since it was about my personal issues, and since my privacy had already been violated, it seemed like fair game (not to mention my right) to find out what was being said about me. Essentially, my mom is making all sorts of interesting, nasty, and mostly false assumptions about me, and she is collaborating with my dad behind my back. My dad has said nothing questionable, so props to him so far. For the record, one of the comments my mom made to my dad was "Tim's running obsession has gone too far."
It hurts when your own mother is against you. It's a lonely feeling, even when you expect it. And it's worse that she is trying (and failing) to hide it. I think reading my journal hurt her. Part of me feels bad for it, but really it wasn't hers to read anyway. Whether she thinks she gets it or not, she really doesn't understand what she read there. There is much more to it than what meets the eye of the biased viewer. I'm hoping to get the opportunity to explain some of those things at some point, but she makes herself so difficult to talk to. Correction: she's easy to talk to, as long as it's about safe topics or small-talk. But if I have something serious to say, I can only expect the most emotionally damaging response from her, whether she realizes she does it or not.
Jesse is back from France, and I timed his workout today. It's incredibly fun to watch him run. I'm going to run with him tomorrow afternoon. Also, my recent track performances got a little local press, which is always nice to see. Next meet is Tuesday against the weakest team in our league, and on Monday I will find out what event I'm running.
I watched The Shawshank Redemption today. It's a fantastic movie and I'm planning to search for the short story it was based on. I also have to watch The Green Mile and read The DaVinci Code. Maybe I can get my mind off some of this stuff for a while, although that effort will be interrupted by a Monday evening therapist appointment.
I'm really becoming a morning person. My mornings are less stressful, and they give a little hope that maybe something good will happen that day. I can get through the afternoons, because that's generally when I go running. At night, however, I'm alone and depressed, and the stressors of the day are free to take their shots at defenseless Tim.
I have juice again. Literally, not figuratively.
I wish I had the luxury to turn against myself in order to rid myself of guilt and blame, like everyone else.
A rock-hammer and a harmonica, because hope is the only thing I'm allowed to have for now. |
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| The truth about Bozo |
[Apr. 22nd, 2004|09:12 pm] |
I never dressed him up in my sister's doll clothes. And I wasn't six years old when I didn't do this.
I've had two track meets this season. We've won both. I've run three races this season. I've won all three. 11:21 two-mile, then my dad came to the next meet to see me win with a 5:02 mile and an 11:45 2-mile. Next meet is on Tuesday...I'm planning to break 5 in the mile or break 11:10 in the 2-mile, depending on which I run. Or, if I'm told to run a half-mile for a change, breaking 2:15 sounds more than reasonable. 2:10 may be closer to where I'm at, but I don't know because I haven't run a half-mile in 11 months. Of course, I said that about the 2-mile, and then I ran 11:21 and won by a minute. We'll see. I will be winning fewer races because the plan for the rest of the season for me is to let me focus on my times, and bringing my mile time to 4:50 and my 2-mile time to 10:50, because those are the qualifying standards for the Western Massachusetts championships. Therefore, I'll be running most of my races with the only teammate who's actually faster than me--Jesse--because people logically will run faster with someone to catch up to. I've been so far ahead of everyone in the last three races that the times are probably a lot slower than what I am capable of. And it will be nice to have Jesse there to see me break 5 in the mile for the first time.
Being a follower of Goc! is a wonderful thing.
Conversation with my dad (the night of the meet he came to watch me win two races):
Session Start: Tue Apr 20 21:30:53 2004
YankeeNutIGN: can you believe this? they finally score runs and it rains [about the Yankees]
dad: bummer, huh...
YankeeNutIGN: by the way, we won 99-46 today
dad: Giambi even smoked one for a double
YankeeNutIGN: yeah
dad: wow - it seemed like aout when we were watching
dad: rout
YankeeNutIGN: we were losing by one point before the running events, but we outscored them in the running events 68-14
YankeeNutIGN: or something like that
YankeeNutIGN: yeah, that was it
dad: well, you helped with that
YankeeNutIGN: yeah
dad: you were awesome
YankeeNutIGN: i got 10 of the 68
YankeeNutIGN: thanks
dad: it was hard watching -- you were a flash
dad: :)
YankeeNutIGN: coach says he wants to focus on the mile for me, now. he thinks that is my best shot at qualifying for the WMass championships
dad: you were fast in that one
YankeeNutIGN: i need to get 12 seconds faster still
dad: you will
YankeeNutIGN: i'm happy with 5:02 for now
dad: me too
YankeeNutIGN: i'll break 5 next week
dad: i'm sure... you are real close
YankeeNutIGN: that was my initial goal back since november
dad: i was inspired by you
dad: i ran today
YankeeNutIGN: awesome
YankeeNutIGN: i love when people tell me that
dad: fastest time
YankeeNutIGN: nice
dad: by 17 secs
YankeeNutIGN: wow
YankeeNutIGN: big difference
dad: i was blazing
dad: i wore red
YankeeNutIGN: haha
dad: i looked like a comet
YankeeNutIGN: or a tomato
dad: ::)
dad: :-D
YankeeNutIGN: and they rang the bell for me
YankeeNutIGN: it was awesome
dad: while you were running?
YankeeNutIGN: i didn't hear it in the mile, but i heard it in the 2-mile
dad: yup, the mile - they were very late, you were already a few hundred yards along
YankeeNutIGN: yeah
dad: i'll definately come to another meet this year
YankeeNutIGN: it was funny - i was bored and alone in the 2-mile in the last lap, so my coach stood there waving his hand like he was ringing a bell, and he ways saying "ding ding ding"
YankeeNutIGN: sounds good
dad: maybe he thinks you are a ding dong
YankeeNutIGN: hope this one wasn't too boring
YankeeNutIGN: heh...maybe
dad: it was real good - especially when you were running
YankeeNutIGN: oh, good
dad: we both [my dad and my stepmom] had a lot of fun - the weather was great - the meet was good....
YankeeNutIGN: weather was perfect
dad: yup - that is why i ran later this afternoon
YankeeNutIGN: the best part was passing the palmer guy in the mile, to take the lead. i get such a rush from doing that.
dad: it was like he was standing still :)
dad: gotta get going.... it was great seeing you this weekend - let's do it again soon, ok?
YankeeNutIGN: yeah, definitely
dad: sllep well----
dad: bye
YankeeNutIGN: goodnight
dad: sleep
dad: bye
Session Close: Tue Apr 20 21:50:36 2004
I'm going to the Yankees-Red Sox game tomorrow. They haven't won a game I've attended since 1995.
Saw the therapist on Wednesday. He was much better than the last one, although we really only got into an overview of the events that brought me there. Next appointment: Monday at 6. Won't be missing track practice.
More inane crap.
If my mom lets asshat back, I'm leaving. She refuses to believe me up to this point, so if that's the drastic measure that will be required for her to figure out that I'm not a liar, then so be it. It's probably healthier for me, although more stressful, anyway.
I'm done writing about the bad shit for now.
Let's see...must keep writing...even if I don't feel like writing, just keep writing...
It doesn't have to be deep. Which makes this the perfect place for a poem I found, that I wrote a long time ago. A little suicide satire...I must have been making fun of the very suicidal thoughts that everyone thinks I'm having now, and this was several years in advance of this entire situation. I can see the future. :O
Here it is:
suicide
they all thought i was slow
but then i won the race
they all thought i was lazy
but now surprise shows on their face
they all thought i was sick
but my body doesn't mind
they all thought i was crazy
but i just needed to unwind
i am a step behind the others
but i never showed my strain
so now they all think i'll succeed
but i'll prove them wrong again
I don't know how old I was, but this was a LONG time ago. Glad I found it, though, because it was worth a laugh due to the coincidence of being able to find it at this point in my life.
Let's see what else I see in my future...I see myself at the age of 26, mentally regressing to the point where I am dressing a cat in my sister's old doll clothes...okay, scratch that idea. Focus on the present for now.
More inane crap.
I ran a hill workout today, and it was 80 degrees and humid. I rocked it, though. Then I almost randomly broke into tears after practice, prior to getting a ride home.
But enough of the bad shit. Hell, my entire family could be reading this. :|
@@@
I must remember to make it perfectly clear to the therapist that so-called "family therapy" is NOT an option. Asshat ruined his chance at that, and it was a painful experience anyway, so screw it. If everyone wants to believe that I'm the only one who needs the help, then help ME. I've been pushing people's attention away from me for so long, that I can probably use it now, although I never really learned how to accept it.
Bad shit. Bad shit. I need more inane crap.
I could use a good, long hug.
I've decided that the world of the game Morrowind is far superior to real life, and I've been playing it quite a bit lately.
I'm all out of juice. Literally, not figuratively.
You know what? Bozo was a hell of a cat, and I miss him. Things didn't start getting bad until after he died. That might have been some sort of life turning point. I remember the day before my mom took him to "put him down," and I was laying in my bed with him bawling my eyes out while trying to explain to him what was happening and all the things I wanted him to know before he left, and how much he meant to me.
I think he's safe with Goc! now.
Coach Mike is convinced that I'm going to qualify for WMass this year. He keeps talking about 4:50. He says 10:50 in the 2-mile will be "easy" but that we're going for 4:50 in the mile because the mile is the big event. I'll qualify for both and decide which to run when the time comes. Mrs. Gauvin told him all about what's going on now, which is probably a good thing. He's keeping me focused on my running goals. He says I've "got a good thing going" and that I "have to stay positive" because "you've done everything you can do."
I feeling like I'm in pretty good physical shape right now, but I'm more depressed than I was before. The only thing I can get myself excited for is the next track meet, always.
I remember when I emailed Coach Mike at the beginning of December, just as I was starting my insane winter training, before anyone realized how hard I was going to work during the snowy months to be ready for the season, and I asked him if he thought breaking 5 in the mile was a reasonable goal for me, and he said "dream big, but start with smaller, short-term goals." I showed him. Screw 5-flat, 4:50 sounds good. Work hard, and love what you work hard for. That's what's important to me. I asked him recently if, when he first met me (back when I was a crappy runner, before I improved faster than anyone he's ever seen), he could have ever imagined that I'd be winning three races for his team and be talking about qualifying for WMass. He said that if I had told him then that I would be doing these things, he would have been supportive but he would have never believed a word of it. "But, I didn't know then how hard you work."
I guess that's the only thing I have going for me right now. Willingness to work harder than everyone else. Unfortunately, to solve the problems that need solving, hard work doesn't cut it. There is nothing for me to work hard at. I have to sit back and wait.
More inane crap.
End. |
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| Excerpt of a letter to my mom from the social worker at the Department of Social Services |
[Apr. 20th, 2004|03:32 pm] |
"As you know, I have talked with you about the recent report of suspected child abuse and/or neglect in your family which was received from the Department of Social Services. After visiting with you and your child on 04/08/2004 and talking to other people who know your family, the Department has found no reasonable cause to support the allegations that your child has been abused and/or neglected..."
There was a whole slew of good news from the last week or so prior to this, but who cares? |
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| All y'all knew I wouldn't let all y'all down. |
[Apr. 11th, 2004|08:51 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | schizo | ] |
| [ | music |
| | A Long December - Counting Crows | ] |
This journal is the continuation of the life found here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/yankeenut/
I'm going to recap the last couple weeks, but not in great detail. I don't have time to reveal the emotional and psychological effects of the events I am about to write, so I'm just going to say them in an effort to rid the world of confusion about my life. Following is the chain of events in chronological order:
1. My guidance counselor, Mrs. Charzan, scheduled an appointment with the school psychologist for 1st period Monday morning without offering me any sort of warning, and she did this in such a way that all of the terms to which I agreed to do this were completely ignored. She called me down, brought me to the room, and told me who I was with, and there I sat listening, too distraught to talk even if I wanted to, which I didn't. I was bitter and upset, and I am still holding it against Mrs. Charzan. The appointment should never have been made without my approval, unless it actually was on my terms. Mrs. Gauvin took my side on this one, and I've never seen her take a side against a member of the school faculty. I told Mrs. Charzan later that she handled everything wrong, and she chose to simply make excuses and then act like the whole thing didn't matter. She didn't take me seriously at all. Perhaps it meant nothing to her, but it meant something to me. I wish that had been respected more.
2. I had an anxiety attack after school, and it was by far the worst one yet. Mrs. Gauvin was convinced for a short while that I was having a heart attack, and I was too caught up in my combination of fear and struggle to breath to really be able to think about it at the time. She and the trainer assisted my walk down the staircase from the gym lobby area which has been deemed by everyone to be "Tim Dannay's spot" to the physical trainer's office, where she had me lay down for a while. She measured my pulse and blood pressure, both of which were inordinately high. She and Mrs. Gauvin, and eventually Jesse, talked me through it, and I was cleared to run a few miles (only if I ran them with Jesse, for supervision). I enjoyed and appreciated them immensely.
3. I told Mrs. Gauvin about the ladder incident. Long talk ensued.
4. Mrs. Gauvin informed Mrs. Tierney of the ladder incident. She called me to her office and informed me that she was going to call my mom in. She called my mom in and did all the talking, while I sat there and suffered through it. My mom then learned of the whole thing, how I've been juggling everything so as to protect everyone else at my own expense. She sort of bought it, but not really.
5. My mom snuck onto my computer and snooped through everything until she came upon my journal. She read the entire thing, found it "disturbing" (her words), then decided to show it to my sister, my dad, and my guidance counselor. She did not, at this point, inform me that anyone had seen it.
6. Mrs. Tierney called me into her office, informed me that the school was concerned about my apparent depression, and said they were sending me that day to a Mental Health Crisis Center in Holyoke. Mrs. Gauvin was there when she told me, and the first words were "it's okay that you're missing track practice." We made my first SlimFast shake ever, in Mrs. Tierney's office. It was funny because we didn't have the materials to make it...just a bottle of milk that Mrs. Gauvin got during lunch for me, and the powder shake mix. It was like a science experiment. SlimFast shakes are my new lunch substitute because it apparently has everything I need to fuel my body, and it isn't solid food, so it's perfect. After a few days of making them, we perfected the routine, and now we make them efficiently and they taste good. It's better than nothing. Anyway, my mom picked me up at school and from there we went to Crisis Center. It was there that I learned who had read my journal and that it was "disturbing" and that everyone is concerned that I am suicidal and that I have schizophrenic tendencies. My mom essentially implied that I am a dumber version of John Nash from A Beautiful Mind. The Crisis Center lady, whose name was Nancy, was very nice, although she seemed to imply the potential schizophrenia thing too. Apparently I refer to things in the journal that never happened, or did not happen in the way I described them. I am beginning to notice how horrible my memory really is. I remember certain things extremely vividly, but I can't remember entire gaps of time within the recent months of my life. Anyway, I didn't mind talking to Nancy, even though she really pushed the suicide questions a lot. She had an awesome southern accent. She gave me a card with a number to call, at any time of day, in case I ever feel that I want to kill or hurt myself. The events of the meeting itself were very difficult to swallow, obviously, even though Nancy was nice. I'll likely never see her again.
7. I have been referred to a real therapist now. The first appointment is April 21. I will be visiting my dad from the 17th to the 20th, and he will come out to watch my track meet on the morning of the 20th. He knows about the situation now, although he hasn't spoken of it with me yet.
8. I ran a 5:06 mile in the wind, with a sinus infection, at practice the other day. But now I have tendonitis in my ITBand that I will have to run through, even though I don't have the sinus infection anymore. First meet is Tuesday, but it looks like it will rain.
9. My mom simply doesn't get it.
10. Tom Hanks is awesome, but not as awesome as Ev, DanSai, and Malorie.
A lot more happened in there, but that's good enough to cover things for now. |
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schizorunner's journal