Here is a complete transcript of the phone conversation I just finished having with my mom.:

Me: "Hello?"

My Mom: "I just want you to know that I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight. This is the worst thing that anyone has ever done to me. Goodbye."


That was our second conversation tonight. The first one was alot longer. Essentially what happened was that my mom asked me to hold a grudge against the father of one of my best friends. This was the result of something he did to my mom, which was not a very good thing to do. I won't go in to the specifics of what it was, but suffice it to say that it was inappropriate. It was not illegal or violent, but it was mean and inappropriate and it made my mom feel extremely hurt.

I sympathized with my mom. I really did. So I asked her what I could do about it. She told me to "turn my back on him," and if my friend who is his son ever invited me to come to his parent's house again (a frequent occourance), I was to refuse and tell him that I wouldn't go there anymore because of what his father did to my mother.

I refused. I told my mom that what she had asked of me was simply not something I was prepared to do. I couldn't just do that to my best friend, even if his dad did a really evil thing to my mom. The conflict was between them, not us, and while I sympathize with my mother, I could not agree to this. It would not have served any pupose but to increase animosity and set a stage for further pain to be caused.

So my mom told me that she thought my attitude was disgusting and that she had nothing else to say so goodbye.

"CLICK!" She hung up on me. I need to be writing a paper right now, and now I have to deal with this shit.

So I go back to writing, trying to push it back in my head. About an hour later, my phone rings again.


"I just want you to know that I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight. This is the worst thing that anyone has ever done to me. Goodbye."


No, I am not developing a pattern.

So, I'm working one of those long ass shifts again. It's nothing special this time, no special prizes, just shit coffee, and supermilk.

It's cool to see the sunrise though. I suppose in a way, it is the only good thing about doing the night shift. I never see the sunrise otherwise, and most times I guess I don't see the sunset either.

Too bad really...I mean, I love it here, and I never want to forget my time here. Ican't expplain in words how meaningful this xperience has been for me. I have met so many special people, real people. I suppose that is one of the best aspects of the culture here, yeah there are knackers, but the majority of the people here are so hospitable and friendly.

Oh geez, wow, I had to stop myself, a little too much cheese there.

But in all honestly, I really wish more than anything that I didn't have to leave, that I could just stay here foreverwith you and forget everything about my past life, my stupid family, and my past friends, that generally were never really my friends to begin with. Oh well,I'll be back.

Curse, that was just a little tangent in my stream of conciousness, because I am actually quite distraught right now.

I don't know how to really deal with how I feel right now. It's scary. And it makes me feel like, oh shit man, I just can't deal with this.

Why does my fucking head always have to do that?

I swear, too much time to think is a bad thing sometimes.

I mean I am in a room full of strangers and I feel really vulnerable, and it makes me feel like I'm a little kid that has gotten lost in the rain.

Two hours. Two fucking hours.

This can be done.

If E2 had an Obituary Log, then I think that's where I would add this writeup, even though no one has died.

I found out yesterday that my brother and his girlfriend had broken up. They had been going out for four or five years. He had been cheating on her.

I'd only met her a dozen or so times, sometimes just chance encounters at the mall. She was quite pretty, very tall and almost anorexically thin. She was shyly quiet, but not in an intimidated sense, and this made her seem quite graceful and elegant, but not confidently so. I remember the first time I met her, she had more hairspray in her hair than I've ever known anyone else to have.

The last three times I saw her were at my grandmother's funeral, when she brought over baby gifts for my new son, and at Christmas.

My grandmother's funeral was small. The ceremony was short, attended only by family and a few friends. Afterwards we drove for two hours to the cemetery, which was overrun with thyme and wild strawberries. It smelled lovely. My brother was very upset; his girlfriend was a huge and unyielding support to him.

She had grown up. She had long stopped using so much hairspray and just looked simple and clean. She still wasn't confident -- she never wanted to be photographed -- but there was a soft reliability to her. She was thoughtful and gracious; she brought over many presents for my new son and she didn't mind how messy our house was, neglected because of our new interest.

Christmas was the last time I saw her, and though I'll likely see her in the mall from time to time, I feel like I've lost someone close. I will miss her at Christmastime, and I hope that she finds someone who does love her.

Today everything changed. Again.

Last night’s devotion has now become this afternoon’s longing. The poem that seemed too wonderful then has now become very profound in its inclination of tragedy. We broke up, again. A long time girlfriend now goes onward into the rotting halls of my memory, and for that I am mournful.

I always pictured her so perfectly, devoting myself to her as well as I could. What once was is again shattered, however this time I do not feel the sting of agony rising up in my very soul. It is a clean break, she is away, and gone out of my life but this time I am not alone. Though I said it before, it has become some sort of personal cliché or motto of misery; everything is going to be all right.

Today everything begins again.

We created this account in order to elucidate what we didn’t already know as well as propagate the knowledge of our experiences and journeys. This, like all else in life is an experiment, in emotion, in fact and in reality. We do not seek perfection, we long for enlightenment and intellectual growth. This is hardly a beginning but the extension of life and its lessons.

This is what it is, and what will be will be.
"..the sound of my words, are always so shocking.." Martin Gore, A smile in the crowd

I've been trying to lighten up on daylogs, but since they've gotten me this far, I thought it fitting to update at this time of my life.

Another chapter is ending. In two weeks I end my exile here on Long Island, New York. I'm heading westward, to Durango, Colorado. This is the one trip out of the many "get up go ones"that I've actually planned- I have an apartment waiting, good job prospects, and a cool ass girl waiting. It's almost too easy, takes half the fun out of it. Almost.

I've learned alot this past year-mainly about myself. When I fell to Florida in the fall of 99, I was a broken wreck. By the time I left there, I thought I had healed, but it wasnt until I spent some time here alone that I realized how messed up, if not more, I had become. I did alot of good there, but I balanced it out with alot of negative shit-most of them only known to myself. I stepped all over people that befriended me, not conciously at the time, but in retrospect. My apologies came too late-I was already forgotten.

Here I made none of those mistakes. I worked, I kept to myself. I made a very few friends, and despite a stumble or two at first, I can leave with a clear concscience now.

Something I'll never take for granted again.


Note: These scripture references are in The Book of Mormon, and The Bible 'Old and New Testaments. I wrote the italics, after copying down the scripture, I hope this understanding of the repentence process in life it self. This was not just made for the LDS faith.'

These teachings are of the faith of Christian. Through Jesus Christ, repentance is possible.

Repentance is the process of forsaking your transgressions or sins. The first step is admitting you have done wrong. The second step is pray and ask for forgiveness and apologize to any you have done the wrong to. The third step is making the wrong into a right, as where you help to fix the problem by doing good in place of evil. The fourth step is promising to never do the sin again, and God forgets you have ever done it.

Alma 36: 12-16,17-21
12 But I was racked with eternal torment, for my soul was harrowed up to the greatest degree and racked with all my sins.
13 Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities, for which I was tormented with the pains of hell; yea, I saw that I had rebelled against my God, and that I had not kept his holy commandments.
14 Yea, and I had murdered many of his children, or rather led them away unto destruction; yea, and in fine so great had been my iniquities, that the very thought of coming into the presence of my God did rack my soul with inexpressible horror.
15 Oh, thought I, that I could be banished and become extinct both soul and body, that I might not be brought to stand in the presencer of my God, to be judged of my deeds.
16 And now, for three days and for three nights was I racked, even with the pains of a damned soul.
17 And it came to pass that as I was thus racked with torment, while I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins, behold, I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world.
18 Now, as my mind caught hold upon this thought, I cried within my heart: O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me, who am in the gall of bitterness, and am encircled about by the everlasting chains of death.
19 And now, behold, when I thought this, I could remember my pains no more; yea, I was harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more.
20 And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!
21 Yea, I say unto you, my son, that there could be nothing so exquisite and so bitter as were my pains. Yea, and again I say unto you, my son, that on the other hand, there can be nothing so exquisite and sweet as was my joy.
These things came to pass, as Alma and Alma The Younger spoke and rejoiced in the knowledge that they sinned no more. As ridding your self of sin is happiness.

Proverbs 28:13
13 He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsakeththem shall have mercy.
Yet again it is preached that repenting is for your own sake. Grasping wrong doings and sin only brings missery, while repenting brings mercy and love.

Isiah 55:(7), 8-9
7 Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
Even your thoughts of doing evil are bad, thinking of killing will lead up to killing. Stop the thoughts from entering your mind by submitting your self to a good envirement .

Alma 39:9, Read the Foot Note b
9 Now my son, I would that ye should repent and forsake your sins, and go no more after the lusts of your eyes, but cross "Foot note b, Cross is to be self mastered." yourself in all these things; for except ye do this ye can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God. Oh, remember, and take it upon you, and cross yourself in these things.
Eternal life is brought by being sinless.

D&C 58:43, 82:7
43 By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins--behold, he will confess them and forsake them.
7 And now, verily I say unto you, I, the Lord, will not lay any sin to your charge; go your ways and sin no more; but unto that soul who sinneth shall the former sins return, saith the Lord your God.
God will forget your sins as so should you when you repent. Be wise to repent, because confessing the sinwill take the burden off. Who wants an extra burden every day?

Italics Added by me to help further understand the scripture and doctrine.

I had woken up feeling rotten. Aching joints, weak muscles, headache and slight nausea. 'Flu, probably. So I stumbled into York at around half-past five to check my email at the The King's Manor.

Which was shut, it being a Bank Holiday Monday.


I was due to meet some friends at eight in the Hole in the Wall. So that left me with three-and-a-bit hours to kill in York city centre, on a Bank Holiday. I could have walked to campus, checked my 'mail there and walked back, or I could just have gone home. But, I still felt ill, my legs were achy, and by the time I arrived at either of those places, I would only have had an hour or so before having to walk all the way back. So I elected to stay.

To cap it all, "Borders" of all places was shut. So, after mooching around for a bit, I went and sat on a bench in the garden area to the right of the Minster, to pass the time until eight.

By around seven, I was thoroughly bored, but a quick reconnoitre had revealed that there really wasn't anything else to do, so I remained seated. At this point, things got weird...

"Excuse me...?"

I stopped staring blankly into space and looked up. A young woman with a bike stood on the path in front of the bench. Average height, with a rainbow coloured cycling helmet, sensible Velcro shoes, and terrible acne. A bit geeky-looking, I suppose. I'd have said early twenties. Totally unremarkable, to the point of invisibility. Had she not been speaking to me.

"Do you know if there's a service starting here in about two minutes. Outside, over there?" She gestured to patch of grass surrounded by an alcove of flying buttresses.

"No, sorry," I muttered. "I didn't see any signs on the gate. If there was one, you'd think there'd be people here by now. Sorry I can't help you."

"Oh." She looked disappointed. "Are you with the choir?"


"What are you doing here then?"

"Biding tryst."


At this point, I began to pay more attention. Despite the fact that our conversation had reached its logical conclusion, this woman had not left. She seemed, quite awkwardly, to be fishing for an excuse, any excuse, to stay and talk at me rather than leaving me alone...

"I go to church most Sundays. I'm not religious, I just go to be supportive. And they said there'd be this thing on today. I'm only here for a week... with business."

This woman was odd... 'I'm not religious, but I go to church to be supportive...'?

"Oh." I replied, trying not to encourage her to talk any more.
Go away!

"Do you like to play games? I like to play games... Actually, I'm a prostitute. Not for money, or anything. I go places, travel around and... try people out, y'know? I have to refuse any money they offer me, I tell 'em. I just like sex. Everybody likes sex... Do you like sex?"

There was an uncomfortable pause. I was now fully awake, subconscious klaxons blaring...

"Er, yeah, I suppose..." I didn't know what to say.
Somehow, in my naïvité, I still hadn't anticipated her quite logical response...

"Would you like to have sex now? With me?" brain, which had been screaming blue murder for the past twenty seconds, finally kicked in (if you can call it that)...

"Umm, no. Thank you." Crisis over. She'll go away now. "...but obviously, I'm flattered."
Did I just say that? Idiot!

"Oh." She replied, looking a little put out, but making no indication of imminent departure. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Actually," I smiled nervously, still slightly off guard, "she split up with me a little over a week ago."
No need to be rude. Polite and civil, but not rude.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've made you go all red."

"Have I?" I truly doubted it.

"Yes... You must be very sad."

"Yes. I am. I get very upset sometimes."

"Does she take it up the arse? I like it all ways."

I see...
I hadn't expected that, even after faux sympathy. I remained civil, if a little indignant. What would Leslie Phillips do if presented with such a rude, impertinent suggestion? Well I sadly lack a pencil moustache, but I nevertheless mounted a staunch, gentlemanly defence, and the honour of the lady in question was preserved...

Who says chivalry is dead?

"Well, I perform all kinds of procedures," (a bit cold as euphemisms went, I thought, but she applied it consistently to a variety of sexual acts) "so if you want to talk about anything, or get any advice...?"

"No. Thank you."

"Only you'd be surprised," she soldiered on, "how many of our clients have never done it before. And even the experienced ones, I teach them a lot."
She was right; I was surprised. What a way to lose your virginity. How very sad.

She asked me where I lived, to which I very guardedly replied, "Ummm,... York?". She told me that she was visiting for a week from Dublin with a, "group of like-mined girls," and weren't there a lot of police in York, you certainly didn't get that many in Dublin, didn't I find it a bit intimidating...?
"No, not really. I can't say I'd really noticed."

"You're very handsome." She swiftly changed the subject, keeping the conversation alive to make up for my lack of input. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one." I replied.

"Oh, young. I'm only twenty-two. Take off your hat." I removed my 'Autobots' beanie. "Oooh. You've got lovely hair!"

"Thank you." Then I smiled, adding, "It was a 10-inch mohican until two weeks ago. Then I shaved it all off." She ignored the comment.

"Very handsome. I bet you've got a six-pack."

I could see where this was going. "Would you believe not? It's very kind of you to say so. But I'm still not going to have sex with you."
...but I'm still beyond telling you to go away, apparently.

"Oh, of course not!" she replied hastily, with a guilty grin.

She changed the subject again, now recounting in graphic detail tales about some of the, "disgusting," male virgins she had deflowered. I glanced at my watch and switched off, nodding at intervals, making encouraging noises when prompted. I had established that I wasn't about to be raped, and a quick look around had shown that she was alone; I wasn't going to be robbed. So I sat and pretended to listen, as she chattered on about the time she dumped her boyfriend out of the front door with no trousers on when he balked at her entertaining clients in their bed, about the man who had sold her her bike seat, and several other uninteresting and unsavoury tales. At a convenient lull in her monologue, the Minster bells rang the half-hour, and I decided that enough was enough. I'd go and wait the final half-hour in the warmth of the pub, away from crazy nymphomaniacs. I glanced pointedly at my watch.

"I should probably be off now..." don't say it! "...but it was nice talking to you." Weak-minded fool! There's a time and place for politeness!

"Oh, really?" She replied, downcast. "Well, I'll see you." She mounted her bike, and I got up to leave.
"Wow, I didn't realise how big you are, sitting down. Tall and handsome!" she yelled back to me as she cycled past.

"Thanks!" I replied half heartedly, wandering slowly down the path. She rode off down the road, looking back at me over her shoulder several times before she finally went out of sight.

I walked on to the pub, and recovered with a stiff caffeinated beverage, before recounting my strange experience to my friends.

Afterwards, I felt very sorry for her, and at the time I had thought that I should do something to help her. But would that have been patronising? Outwardly at least, she gave no impression of being the slightest bit unhappy with her life... but she did have an air of grim resignation to her matter-of-fact manner. It's too late now. But I still think it's very sad.

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