Lately things have been pretty hectic. It’s hard to describe, really. It’s one of those Black Book things…One of those things that is more personal. Like I told you before, the blog is my watered down Black book. My blog is the “Diet” “Caffeine free” Black Book. It started Sunday. Like I wrote about Wind, I got to see her Sunday night as well.

It was an interesting night, in more ways than one. The Power went out several times; we were hanging the Christmas Decorations and all that stuff. Wind and I hung out some, but she seemed kind of offish to me last night. We’d talk, but then she walked off. After the third time of doing this, I just assumed she needed her space and left her to herself.

The ironic thing is, psychologically, I am a very clingy person; but around Wind I keep my distance and take the obvious measures to make sure that we are not Labeled; “Girlfriend and Boyfriend.” Because like I told you, right now we can’t be together. I haven’t been acting differently around her than the day we first met.

I don’t know if she worries about me or if she’s worrying about feelings of her own, but it’s really tearing me to pieces right now. I would be more than happy to just be her friend. I don’t need to be dating her to be happy. I just want her to be happy and be her friend. She acted like she did that night when she had to tell me that her dad told me to stop calling.

I’ve been thwarted by parents more than I care to think about. Am I really a monster? Am I really some heathen? I can’t lie; I’ve left class today to cry in the stall of the bathroom. I’ve never had anything as precious as Wind in my life. Now, a very fragile happiness threatens to shatter itself in my hand.

There’s no reason for it as well. I’ve kept my distance, I’ve maintained honor. I’ve even avoided rushing or smothering it. It just threatens to die in my hands. I’ve become terrified of loosing something I never even had. I never got sappy with her, just talked about music, joked around and took it very lightly. Why is this dieing on me?!

I can’t take another slash. I can’t be scourged again. All I want is someone to hold, someone to wake up for. I know things can’t always be peachy, but why do I get hung up in these situations? What can I do to convince people I’m not some demon? What can I do to convince people that I’m not a heathen? What can I do to prove to people that I am not a monster? If anyone follows this, I could really use advice right now. Any words would do.

PS
This is for my friend Caleb: Call me when you get off work tonight. I don’t care how late you get off, if you can manage it, give me a call.

It seems there is also another wind in my life, and big surprise, I didn’t catch it. It’s okay though. The other girl, she is my friend. I actually had a crush on her the first time I met her. She is a very nice and lovely girl.

She is not quite what I’m looking for, though. She’s a good friend, but I wouldn’t take her. For that, there is one and one reason alone. She says I’m hot and all that kind of thing, but she sees people as Poke’mon, she’s gotta have ‘em all. Not in a bad way though, she just likes too many different guys. Plus, she’s taken.

Yeah, a girl that’s taken says I’m hot, compliments me, and is actually one of the coolest people to hang out with. The whole irony of the situation is intensely insane. Today, I felt bad though. I really am clueless, I guess. I though she was talking about Wind because this girl and Wind share the same real name.

My friend later told me that the girl was speaking in third person. Ouch! Zing! Crap! So yeah, it’s yet another funny little thing for Anthony to figure out. They say ignorance is bliss, but I find that it only leads me to run the wrong way with the ball so to speak.

The thing that sucks the most about this situation is that I would like this girl except the fact that I’m just another name on the list. I’m her friend, but I need more than what she’ll give me. (Think love, not sex.)

I once had a dream; it was so real to me that it felt more like a vision. I got back from fighting in a long, hard war of some kind, but I had been gone for a while, and when I came back, I found my wife and another man in our bed. That’s a dream that I never want to become a reality.

I want a wife that will stick to her vows and love me. I, in return will do the same. Most people my age don’t think about long term things like that. I know that if I just went with it, I’d probably be a lot happier than I am now, but my mom was happy when my dad and her were younger. What does she have to show for it now? Nothing…

Nobody’s perfect…I don’t need a bombshell wife, she doesn’t have to be a Playboy Bunny, she doesn’t have to be a virgin or some sort of super girl, I just want her to love me and be honest. The whole trust issue, I could never have that with her.

I love this girl in a friendship sort of way, but I fear trying to make it more than it is would crush our friendship. I hope that she understands that.

I got to see Wind on Sunday. We didn’t get to talk a whole lot, but I gave her a CD of some things. I made a funny slideshow, a few of my poems, and what I have of my gargantuan of a story that eventually will be my trilogy.

Wind is a reader. A reader and a writer, what a cute couple! (LOL) Anyway, I’m eventually going to get some published. The Poems will definitely be first. My novel, wow! It’s taken me years and I’ve just gotten to the official half way mark of the first book. I’ve been working on it for three years.

When it comes to writers, block, writer’s cramps, unexpected technology failures, and writing yourself into a corner, there are a lot of delays! It’s good though, it’s a good story. My poems, I will try to get them published soon. Recently, I’ve been knocking out chapters in one day. As much as I’d like to tell you I’ll have it done soon, that’s a promise I can’t make.

Blogging is a good break, I love to write, but sometimes it can be a chore. Blogging is more “Freestyle.” I don’t know how these authors can write nine or ten chapters into a book and not have a single ounce of conflict. My story is, for the most part plot and action oriented, but I had about a three chapter period where nothing happened, but it was a prelude to a massive three chapters worth of battle! I HAD to write it, but I didn’t enjoy one bit of it…

Anyway, I’m sure Wind will enjoy my work. If she doesn’t that’s okay. I’ll keep you updated on, well…everything. Until later, This is Anthony Casimire Signing off.

Hello my fellow Bloggers, it’s good to be back. Welcome back to the show. Five days I was out of school and had zero contact with the outside world. I’m usually not one to complain, but this Thanksgiving really wasn’t that much to me. I would’ve been more thankful if I would’ve just lived out the week like any other.

My parents stayed home since my first day off. My mom wasn’t that much of a problem, but my dad can’t stand to see people having fun. I literally think he jacks-off to watching or making people miserable at night.

You see, I’m a naturally early riser. People that can sleep until one or three in the afternoon make me so envious. Well, I’m a Seven in the morning to ten at night person. I CAN’T sleep in. it’s physically impossible for me. So I couldn’t even “sleep them off” so to speak.

My dad originally wanted me to rake leaves my first day off, but it was too windy. He actually went to work that day, and he told me to clean the house is raking was a loosing battle. I thought, “Hmm, which is a bigger loosing battle, raking in the wind or cleaning my house?” Talk about having to pick your poison.

Anyway, I straitened the house and listened to some music all day. Over all, it was really not that bad of day. Thanksgiving rolls around and I walk into my parents room to say, “Happy Thanksgiving.” My dad replies similarly and the very next thing he says is, “Is it windy outside?” The first words that come to mind, “Fuck!”

Yeah, I quickly turned around and walked out. So two hours later, my dad was shitting around in the garage and left me to rake our one acre yard by myself. He burned the leaves, but that was about it. I can see how throwing a match can be such a demanding task though…

He did the same thing to my mom. We transfer a bunch of junk from the garage my parents like to call the “Family Room” to our Real garage, which is separated from our house, but as big as our house, that is still packed to the walls with junk. He said to her, “We need to go through some of that stuff out there.”

When my dad says, “We” he really means YOU. I’m not sure what he was doing, I was raking leaves, but my mom had nothing nice to say about him. She baked pies for Thanksgiving because we went to my Aunt’s house.

We had about four hours of eating and visiting as a Holiday vacation, the rest of the time was spent in work and sleeping. As of the junk, it’s Hilarious! We got charged a commercial bill from our garbage men, and we have fourteen boxes of stuff going to the Salvation Army!

The thing that makes it funny is that we merely got through an 18th of the crap at best! I was so pissed about having to do it, but in the end, watching my dad get that commercial bill and seeing the car over laden with stuff we don’t use anymore was nothing short of hilarious! Anyway, I’ll report more later. It’s good to be back, its good be blogging, and it’s certainly good to be back in routine.

Anthony Casimire Signing off

Today is going very well. I wouldn’t have even bothered coming to school today except for the fact that as long as I have under five absences and am passing the class, I don’t have to take semester finals. I’ve only missed three days (four in Culinary arts because I skipped a boring three hour seminar.) I figured that there wasn’t going to be ANY work today, and I was right.

So far, I’ve played music on a keyboard, ate pizza, listened to presentations, watched a movie, and now have three more hours of movie watching or computer time. I’ll watch a movie later, but for now, I decided I would update my blog, as well as read the blogs of others. I would have it no other way. However, I wont have any access to a computer until Monday, so after 3:00 pm Central time, don’t bother until Monday. I’m not complaining though, not complaining at all.

I hope you all have a very wonderful Thanksgiving. We all have plenty to be thankful for. My school is pretty funny. A good name for my school would be the school of Liberal Arts. This is the kind of school that nothing good or bad ever happens in. Even the athletics are very mediocre. We’re not good we’re not bad we’re just Eagles. This is the kind of school that you will walk in, and there will be a guy sitting on a bench with an amp beside him, playing the guitar.

We have our preps, nerds, jocks, Goths, punks, everything, actually. It’s very compact yet very ghostly quiet. I once had a friend drop by my school for a visit. He goes to another district and he told me, “My school is less than half the size of your school, but twice as loud.” They have coffee and doughnuts for sale for anyone, even newspaper-readers while be sitting on benches as life passes us all so unassumingly.

People know how the school works very quickly. God knows the hierarchy of the school; (Principals, superintendents and so on) don’t have a clue about what goes on. It’s like people in this school know how its supposed to work, so we mutually cooperate and fill in those gaps and blunders that the white-collars make. What we don’t have in organization, we make up for in cooperation.

Granted, there are fights, between both students and students, teachers and teachers, but we know that this town only has one High School, and that the walls are packed with us. People here know that they don’t have to like each other, but we do RESPECT each other. Of course, there are always the brutes that so dumb that if brains were dynamite, they couldn’t blow their nose, but nobody likes them except themselves. It’s really funny actually; very hard to describe. The closest metaphor I can come up with is that my school is like a Chaotic Utopia with cliques. We fight, but we don’t wage war. We argue, but rarely do battle.

Now that I’ve given insight on my school, I will talk about another subject; Beauty. Recently, I’ve been hammered with this subject a lot. Being that I spend about four hours a day in classes with a ratio of 4 girls to 1 guy, beauty has been an ongoing encountering conversation topic. In Culinary arts (Cooking, in the Common tongue) there are three guys counting me. In my Interior Design class there are two guys counting me. Yes, we do have an interesting array of conversations. They’re obsessed with it! Not only that, but they have a very foul outlook it.

I’m not digging into psychology this time; the human mind is a Pandora’s Box that I am not willing to toy with. But they speak of beauty as if it’s some cookie cutter thing. They look at themselves and the only thing they can think of is a checklist, usually of what they DON’T have rather than what they do… It’s a very depressing way that some people look at themselves.

There are many girls in my culinary class that literally believe at all physical love after the age of thirty sucks… bad word usage…that it’s Non-Existent. They literally believe life and love is over that quickly. I don’t know how they look forward to life. They put love in cage. Not only do they put love in a cage, but a very dismal one. My guess is that a lot of couples make love after thirty. I know I certainly hope I will.

I could tell you story after story of an absolutely gorgeous girl that thought she was, “Too Small” or didn’t have a big enough ass, or just little things. Little things that they let get to themselves that matter so little in reality. Beauty has many forms like love. Love, Beauty, they’re both these massive, complicated enigmas that people try to cram into this tiny little box. They try to make something so big and inestimable into something so elementary and vain.

Beauty is within the eyes of the beholder. Not all guys see the same when it comes to beauty. Some guys like “large girls” some guys will tell you anything more than a handful is a waste. Some guys like big butts, some guys couldn’t care less about the hind quarters. The same with girls, some girls can’t get enough muscles, some girls think muscles on muscles is gross. Some girls like pretty boys, some girls like rugged and husky. Beauty is an opinionated analysis of another person’s physical features.

I won’t lie, I want a beautiful girl, and Wind is beautiful indeed. People don’t wake up and say, “I think I’m going to scope the homeliest person I can find.” But if someone is beautiful, they know it, and they’ll be “Picking on someone their own size so to speak.” Why do celebrities only date celebrities? Why did queens and kings only marry other kings and queens? How many times did someone miss out on so much love and happiness just because they refused to step down for someone else or refused to step up for someone else?” They would never listen to me though, why? Because I’m not the perfect guy, I don’t have “Cosmopolitan” Stamped on my forehead. I don’t wear American Eagle or Hollister I don’t have “Mary Kait” scratched across my chest. Classes, aren’t they a bitch?

To give you an example of beauty, I will tell you a true short story. The first day of school was walking down the hallway and saw a girl that just absolutely nailed me to the wall. She was a freshman, she was skinny, she had build to her, but overall, wasn’t by anyone’s standards too endowed. She wore a long, black gothic dress that was REALLY low cut, but under it had a lighter black silk shirt on. The dress’s sleeves at the end near the hands were very open, like a druid’s cloak.

She powdered her face white, and wore glossy black lipstick and crimson eyeliner. Her nails matched her eyeliner. Sure, by most people’s standards, she’d look like nothing short of an “Angry Freak” but for some reason, I found it irresistibly enticing.

I don’t always go for the whole make up thing. I’ve found many different types of girls attractive. My eyes are truly open. I like natural the best. Tan just makes me sick. I can’t wait until the “bronze body” thing goes out. Especially bronze bodies with bleached hair! Gross! You look like an Oumpa Loompah for Christ’s sakes! But oh well, my days entry is coming to a close. I love this site… Good day All bloggers. Have a good, safe, and Happy Holiday. This is Anthony Casimire signing off.

Have you ever felt something so powerful that you knew it was real? Have you ever been so sure that something existed; that you didn’t need proof to believe in it? Maybe it was an imaginary friend, an imaginary pet, or even an imaginary reality. Maybe it was or is God, or any other religious figures.

Then, one day, somebody comes along and just doesn’t get it. They see what you have, but they don’t know what you have. Where you may see the ghost of your lover, or mother, or someone you loved blow you a kiss, all the other people see is wind. Wind is like music. It’s there, it has no bias. It will kill a sinner just as quickly as it kills a saint.

It lets nothing stand in its way. It can be blocked, but it will find its way around. It humors us by not always destroying our ships, homes and property. It tolerates, but it will not remain passive forever. Its anger is short but its life is infinite. Wind is not the entire theme though.

Wind is a metaphor of what is real in the eyes of another, and what is false in the eyes of one. Wind is what I feel. I can feel it coming, but it’s not tangible. Wind brushes my hair aside and dries my tear-soaked face. Wind carries warm air into a cold and dismal life.

Wind blows the ash out of my skies and reveals the sun. Wind blows the rain clouds out of my life. Wind blows dust over the bones of my failures, burying them, letting them rest in peace. Just who is wind?

I’m not talking about a change in life, a dramatic twist in the plot. Right now, things are so twisted that anymore twisting would break everything, and for that, I am very thankful. It makes sense when you REALLY read through the blog.

Yes, Wind is a girl. She is a girl that I’ve become very fond of. But as of now, she is like the wind, which is why in my blog she will be known only as Wind. I cannot see her yet, but at all times, I can feel her brush my hair. I can feel her waft her arms around me. She is a warm breeze in a cold world.

The greatest thing is that Wind has told me that she loves me too. Wind knows that I like her, but Wind also knows that I know her place, as well as mine, and as of now, she cannot be anything more in my life than just a wind. As of now, I can see her in the distance blowing me a kiss, but the only thing the others feel is the wind.

We both know that. Anyone that looks with their heart will quickly find that the Imaginary is more real than they thought. My love for Wind is Pure and Innocent. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Wind, because Wind, at one time saved me. Wind saw a terribly weak side of me that I pray that no other will ever see.

It’s just like the movies, just like Romeo and Juliet. Wind and I have VERY limited contact, but I enjoy Wind’s companionship. I let Wind know that I loved her quite by accident. She obviously enjoys my company. She’s always listening, smiling. Her love is as close to unconditional as a mortal can get.

Story after story, time an time again, my character tells “This one girl” or “She” or “Her” that he loves her, and unlike Hollywood, she turns back. My role ends with me sitting in my room listing to wordless music silently screaming, “Why? Why! Why?! I tried God Damn it! Couldn’t you see what it is I feel for you? Do you not know what I’m going to give you or what I’ve already given?”

Every girl that I’ve liked has left me in that position, but not Wind. Wind and I developed a friendship before I officially fell for her, but when I took of my protective, “Social armor”, she saw me for what I really was. She saw me without my mask. She saw just how weak, scourged and broken I was. I was Mutilated and tortured, by fate with a wicked sense of humor.

Wind saw me in a Gollum-like state. She saw me she saw a shadow, she saw the ghost self-named Anthony Audwin Casimire. She didn’t recoil, didn’t judge, didn’t scream, and didn’t flee. Instead, she cuddled into me closer, wrapped her arms around me and told me that I wasn’t such a bad person. She told me, “Its okay Anthony, I’ll always be here for you.”

That moment, I was speechless. Ten minutes of silence went by and the only thing I said was, “I love you, Wind.” Shortly after that came out, I thought, “Oh shit! Yet another girl freaked out. Yet another girl you’ll have to hide from. Yet another girl where the best resolution, the BEST outcome was a mutual agreement, ‘We’ll just pretend that never happened.’ Yet another girl you’ll have to hide from.”

Her response was she smiled, looked deeply into my eyes and replied, “I love you too.” The night passed quickly, Wind and I went our home, and I reminded myself, “This can’t be. This isn’t supposed to happen. What happened there was an accident. It wasn’t real, it was a dream, and It was just the wind.”

Months went by, but the relationship between Wind and I fell to normalcy. I even continued my quest for love. There was a girl, but that didn’t work out, than there was the cheerleader, you know the rest goes.

It wasn’t until last Wednesday that I realized that I really did love Wind. Wind wasn’t just a crush. Wind wasn’t just a phase. Wind wasn’t just butterflies or a pretty face. Wind was Real. She approached me on a much more serious note, but then we had to separate, time was not on our side. Wind left me hanging, and eventually I was worried to the point where I literally left the room to throw up.

Later that night, Fate was merciful to me, and we got to see each other once more before we left. She told me that her dad was worried about our friendship beyond the church. He asked me to stop calling. He didn’t care if we talked at church, but like I said, “I know my place and I know hers, but as of now, she can only be Wind.”

I realized Wednesday night that Wind was much more to me than a friend. “Yes, Anthony, you have fallen in love again.” circumstances require me to submit to her father, as well as wait patiently for Wind. This waiting period will give us time to build our friendship, and I am content with waiting.

My only concern is that I’m not entirely sure what she meant by when she said, “I love you too.” Love is very generic in our culture. People are just as loveable as pizza. Most languages, (Especially older ones) have many, many words for it. Regardless, I know what it is I feel. Regardless, Wind and I are friends. I have to wait, and the only thing that I need to know for now is that I love Wind.