Don't ... ask me why I'm listening to that. But I like it. I especially like the choral arrangement of it used in the movie Slackers. Anyway ... She's back! My lovely is back! Imagine my happiness - and shock - when I came online last night - and there was my lovely! My wonderful, beautiful lovely whom I worship and adore and love ... It had been a bad week, a terribly bad week - and there she was - and suddenly, none of it mattered. She won't be gone for six months. She's staying. She said that the judge gave her probation and fines to take care of - but no jail. She said that once you have that sentence once, you can't get it again - and she'd already gotten it once. So, by all logic, she shouldn't have gotten the sentence again, but apparently it didn't show up on her records - so the judge gave her fines and probation ... My lovely is returned to me! Miracles, I think, do happen. Some kind of force is working on her side, I can say that. I guess hope isn't so useless afterall. H-O-P-E. My lovely is home. My beautiful, wonderful, magnificent, splendiferous lovely is home! I can be happy again. I feel needed again, loved ... I have reason again. Thank you, God, Goddess, for returning her to me. And I was happy last night - oh so joyful and happy ... For about an hour and a half. I didn't want anything or anyone to bring down my happy mood - no one wants that - but it happened. I got a message over AIM from someone I don't know. First thing they said was a question, asking me how old I was. Naturally, I'm a bit nervous and paranoid when random people start messaging me, asking personal questions. And I state that. I want to know who this person is. Let's call her E. She knows who she is. She is a supposed friend of this other girl I know - let's call her M. I would love to meet M someday. Now, M is a nice girl. She seems sweet and, every once in a while, she'll have a problem and we'll talk about it; I'll give her some advice. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't, but I listen to her no less - because she is a nice girl. We keep hoping that our paths might cross at a concert at the Rev - because she lives in Evansville, and that's relatively close to Owensboro, where I live. I'd still love to meet her someday. It's just a little difficult, you know, her being fifteen and me being twenty-one. However, now, I fear she doesn't want to speak to me because her friend E is spreading lies about me. I know this girl. E. Not personally, but I've heard of her from M and read about her in M's diary. And E, from my own observations, I've noticed to be the source of much conflict in M's life. This conversation that I had with E last night ... was not a good one. She asked me how old I was, I asked her who she was, asked her why random people kept messaging me and asking me personal questions. she said it's because she's a "horrrrrrible person" and she's M's friend. Then she says "21? liar" And I tell her that no, I AM 21, and that I didn't even know who she was - and that she obviously didn't know who I was or she wouldn't be calling me a liar. I ask her again who she is, she tells me her name. And I say "Uhm ... right" because the name registered with me. And the next thing I get is a "hey bite me fag boy." That offended me. I told her so. She said "good" then signed off. You know ... I'm a nice guy. I never want to hurt anyone; in fact, I spend a majority of my time trying to keep others from hurting. I don't have any reason to lie about my age and tell the truth about everything else. That's just ridiculous to lie about something like that - especially to someone who lives so close to me and I intend to run into at Barnes & Nobles one day - or just meet somewhere, preferably public - something. So why would someone accuse me of lying? M says that her friend's boyfriend says he knows me, that I'm 16, and could describe me. Well, evidently he has the wrong guy or he's lying. For one thing, anyone who fucking reads my journal - which is accessible to the public - can describe me - what I look like, what I do, what my personality is. And yes, I know that I physically look younger than I am - maybe 16 or so, but I'm NOT sixteen. But I bet you didn't know that Vincent Kartheiser is 23, or that Michael Rosenbaum 30. Madonna's past 40 and she still looks 29 - and she's had two kids! Some people just look young. But I'm NOT 16. I haven't BEEN sixteen for FIVE years. In fact, I would hate to go back to being 16 simply beacuse it was quite possibly the worst year of my life. I have a birth certificate that says Jonathan Seth Glover born May 3, 1982. I was born in the Ohio County Hospital in Hartford, KY - back when they still had an OB program. My driver's license reads that my birthdate is 5/3/82. My passport says it. My student ID says it. I'm a Taurus, all right? Born in the year of the Water Dog (if you go by the Chinese Zodiac). I'm in fucking COLLEGE - I'll be a SENIOR this year. If I was sixteen, then I'd have to have started when I was TWELVE. I -am- 21 years old, and I had a really shitty 21st birthday to go with it. I don't know why E would start spreading lies like that - about someone she doesn't know. It's painful - and it comes back on you three-fold. See, the Wiccan Rede says "and ye harm none, do ast ye will." Maybe she just wants to start crap with M - or maybe she's jealous or upset that M talks to me about her problems, too, so she's playing on M's insecurities to bring her back to her. I've heard of - and met - several people who live for conflict and drama - who purposely start conflict because they're just bored - not really caring about anyone else but themselves. How naive I was to think that a big blue bridge over the Ohio River could separate the close-minded, hateful biggots from the open-minded, accepting liberals of the North. I was wrong. Because someone from the north, someone from Evansville - that town that I had looked up to - resorted to vulgar name-calling when she said "hey bite me fag boy." Hurts. Just hurts. You know, M - if you're reading this - she really doesn't seem like such a good friend. And if the two of you fight so much, then she's just ... she's bad karma. I'm not telling you that you should ditch her or anything, but ... she's just bad karma. Remember that. I shouldn't let it get to me. I shouldn't let what others say bother me - especially people I don't know ... but it does bother me. It does. But I know I'll get through this - beause I have truth on my side. And truth is a very powerful ally. I also have my lovely. My wonderful lovely. I truly am so happy - and grateful - that she is home and has been returned to me. I love my lovely. Blessed be. P.S. Hate is not a Wesleyan value. DREAM I was somewhere. I don't know where - this place was strange to me. And I kept moving from one place to another. Cris was there. There was this building I was in - a canary yellow building, that had a lot of people in it - people that I don't recognize now that I'm awake - but there was one woman there, that I did recognize. Miss Tichenor was her name, I think. I don't know who she is now that I'm awake - I've never seen her in my life. She was older, about 40, I think, and had tanned skin, auburn hair, a mother's face. She was a teacher - for these children - and there were lots of children. And it's like all of these people had to stay in this building - like they were in hiding or they were taking shelter from something. The people don’t know who or what I really am – but I think that a few of the children do, because they look to me, they smile like they know. But the people there … many of them feel drawn to me and want to be around me – but I just want to be left alone. And there was this underground tunnel in the basement, past this indoor pool where the kids had their physical activity - it was just this hall way that went under ground and came up next to this wide river ... where the sky was clouded black, and there was a narrow bridge that went across it. I kept wanting to get on that bridge - because the source of all the bad things that were happening to these people, would come to that bridge. To duel me, I think. I was afraid someone that if I fought him, I would be pulled into his world – like we were meant to duel each other – or meet one another – because it felt as though we were opposites yet the same. Does that make sense? Anyway. I got on the bridge, waiting for him to come – and I can feel him coming closer. I can feel him drawing near – I can almost see him – but then someone grabs me and takes me back into the canary building. I am upset, yes, but I don’t let it show. He asks me if I’ve ever been to Colorado … for some reason … and asks me what I thought of it. I keep wanting to go back, but now there are people watching the tunnel. It’s like I’m suddenly in the middle of some kind of war because suddenly everyone’s gathered in the first floor of the building. And they’re listening to this newscast – that something is about to strike the area, and there’s a countdown between hits – so they’ll know when to be prepared for a strike – and they seem as though they’re expecting this. I don’t know, if it’s a bomb or an asteroid – but I have a feeling that it has to do with me – though no one acknowledges my suspicions – not that I say anything. But Miss Tichenor is helping this child that has fallen and gotten hurt, and there’s these people along the walls, helping injured people when all of the sudden, the people start chanting – 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 … And I’m staring at this door when it gets to one, and suddenly it’s like a bomb hits – and the stone in the wall shatters and flies everywhere – like I’m in the middle of a WWII movie set in Poland. And I have just enough time to breathe again before Cris grabs me and takes me toward the tunnel – and the people start counting down again, shouting it out: “5, 4, 3, 2, 1 …” Another explosion – I don’t want to go, I have to go back and help them – I have to protect the kids, I have to get the people to safety – but I can’t, I’m being pulled away to my own safety. And the next thing I know, I’m in the tunnel again, and there’s lots of other adults and children there – because it’s underground … it’s safe – and I’m being held in place by Cris and I’m just … staring at his chest – not intentionally, mind you, it’s just that I’m staring, and his chest is there. I just keep thinking about how I want to go back. And finally, one of the men says that it’s clear, and we head toward the surface again … and we come upon the canary yellow building … The streets are empty, filled with rubble and the buildings – it looks like the scene from Saving Private Ryan – that French town that had been attacked, with the child separated from her parents in the rain, and the soldier tries to get her across the street to her parents – which were in that building, you know, that had the side blown off. It … looked like a war zone, to say anything. And everything around, I felt, was dead. But there was a break in the clouds – or smoke – and a little bit of sun came through, and I could see the canary building – full of holes, missing outer walls. And there were bodies … dead bodies. And I’m handed these bags, to help clean up the rubble, but I just look around at all of these dead bodies. And I see Miss Tichenor … she’s in the exact same position I last saw her in, bent over the child, with her arm outstretched to help, her eyes wide – but the child is dead … and so is she. I know she is. And one of the men is yelling to my right, kicking this charred phone across the room, yelling something about “Goddamn phone still works – all of these people are dead, and the goddamn phone still works.” But I’m just staring at Miss Tichenor – and I just … break down. I start crying. I’m screaming “Miss Tichenor!” in between sobs. And my knees go weak, and I’m about to fall – and I start to, just crying – but Cris is behind me, and he just catches my arms and holds me up and I just … cry. And that’s all I remember. I woke up feeling as if I should wake up. I wanted to go back to sleep, I wanted to go back to that dream, to see if I could bring her back, but … I just felt as if I should get up now. So I did. I looked up yellow in the dream directory – because … I don’t dream about yellow often, and it seemed significant. Yellow means, positively “enlightenment” and negatively “cowardice, illness.” I looked up “war” – it told me to look up “end of the world” – so I did. It says “this dream may be a calling for you to protect yourself against a risk that is beyond your comfort zone, become more involved in a particular cause, or to think again about the rationale of your fears. Interpreting this type of dream asks ‘How is the world ending and who is to blame?’” I don’t know who was to blame for it – but it wasn’t us. And the world was ending … by war, not by a natural disaster – but by war itself. “Many times, these dreams will accompany a time in the dreamer’s life when he or she feels that the entire world is against them and only their association with something larger than themselves can provide a resolution to the struggles being faced. (Or they may just be receiving an oracle about the conclusion of this world …)” … I hope not.