Rats for each failed experiment

Day 4 just got deleted. Some crappy program decided to clean out the cache which my file was in. I was not sad on day 4, I wrote amazing things and now it's gone. If I was experimenting on some dumb rat like me, I would at least introduce myself and explain the tests I was planning for him and try to give him the chance to say no if there was a way. I feel like the dumb rat with someone not nearly as caring or noble as I.

Anyway, at least you can have excerpts from the previous day: I overheard a woman who was trying on clothes at the store while I did the same. "I think I look good from here down." "Does this look good on me?" "Try this size." "That looks much better."

Now this rat's leaving this maze. I'm saying that I'm getting out of Logan and the hands of the experimenters. When things go wrong, everyone around me looks suspect. I can't suspect anyone except those I can perceive. On Day 4 you would have found out how I decided to go to graduate school, and then how I decided not to even more firmly. It's too bad the details are gone, for you anyway. On Day 4 I poured out my soul, and it wasn't that bad but too bad you won't know the conclusion of these ramblings.

I seem to have the effect on people that they all vacate the vicinity and don't come back. It's as though it were a matter of principle. I am thrilled that people have principles; I just don't understand what's so valuable about taking the actions I see which are based upon these principles. So who is foolish when I can't make sense of people's actions? One thing seems sure, is that we don't understand or care enough about each other. Rats are the subject of tests, at best when the tester cares for the rat drastically more, and at worst as a matter of entertainment or boredom. I think it's always some of both.

The only other context I heard of is that it's to shape someone, make them into something else, but I think it's something better for the purposes of the tester. This makes me so angry. Why would I try to change someone I love behind their back? So then it must still be that the tester and rat are never friends. Certainly the tester has learned not to get emotionally attached. That's what they always say in cinema experiments. I think when a book is lost, and a new book is written, it turns out nothing like the first. Better, probably not, just different.

I get so tired of every reaction to me being just the same. Never anything new, as though they all are marching in step to some rhythm that I can see, but not hear. Isn't there someone listening to the music I hear? I see the music they hear and I get so tired of it, that I wonder why I continue looking for someone new.

I don't do things for people anymore; not like I used to do. No one is worth saving. Saving does not create love or appreciation. It makes you ignored and taken for granted. Right now, I don't know what inspires love, but I can't help but feeling it all the time for others. I love the people I so much despise. How can I be so inspired to this cause every day, and all around me are people lacking it entirely? I wish I could see it in someone else, but it just doesn't happen.

I do see love in both my nieces' eyes. Will they lose it too and begin marching in step to the same beat of those who show no love, to any but themselves?

My oldest niece was a friend to me. I was the only uncle she knew the name of, and I was told she called all her uncles with my name. She was the best friend she could be, and I felt that at some of my darkest moments she was my only friend. From feeling a child's love during my despair, I could not find worthy comparison from God or peers or anyone else in seeking for someone who would be happy and enjoy my friendship like she did. All others seemed to just abandon me and tried to fix me, but she loved me for exactly what I was in my worst moment.

Why do I feel like my friendships are all staged, like there was no choice to be a friend, and like I am blocked every time I try to choose one myself? Perhaps I just have a bout of Truman's syndrome. I hope it's just this town, which is why I'm leaving it soon. I don't understand how I can see friendships or else maybe insecurity, all around me. I sit near a very large group of people talking together like some flow of words about far less than nothing, being amazed at being excited at the stupidest things. Maybe none of them can make it alone.

These words are about nothing. But maybe it's about everything. The fabric has become very obvious which surrounds me. An obvious plan, has felt very predictable and controlling surrounds me. I wonder who is the architect. Is it God, or is it the devil? Is it my parents, or a stranger? Is it "The Rules", or is it a man? Is it genius, or is it a fool's game? Nothing which pushes on me is surprising, because I expect to be pushed around. I think of the phrase "Opposition in all things" giving me freedom. I don't know how it works. I am the only opposition to the worst pressures I perceive, and mostly all this opposition just fights what I want to do. How is this freedom? I am being trained to fight the opposition, and when the training is through the opposition will become slightly less, enough for me to beat it, on the things someone else wants me to do. And so, I will feel great accomplishment that "I'm finally winning" while I fight exactly what I've been steered to fight, probably nothing to do with what I want to fight either. Someone has freedom in my life. I just wish it was me.

The first girl I thought to sit by is still here. I wonder if she would be if I actually sat by her. I wonder if she would have said anything to me. Or even less likely, I figured something out to say to her that she actually enjoyed welcomed. It looks like she's on a church website. At least it has the right color scheme for it. Not anymore. She's looking at e-mail.

It seems I can dream up the most amazing things when I think about what I want when thinking of meeting a girl. None of them ever happen though. Not yet. I guess it'll be the girl of my dreams, when these dreams meet reality in some pleasant way. This semester, I've been fighting so hard to meet people, and mostly the result has been that I have spent more time in the library and in the more social computer labs (social in that there are women). But talking to new people hardly ever happens. I wonder if I talked to new people they would be new, or would it be the same story, marching in the same rhythm. First impressions of people are often a view of how I affect others generally, not of who someone specifically is. People always paint a picture, only they all paint pictures of what they think of me, not of who they are. I don't like to evaluate myself in the context of others' perception, mainly because most seem to be so blind to me.

I turn to question. Can I see who I am, without some sort of mirror?

Maybe it's not important that I see who I am. However, with feelings of little success in socialization (success meaning achieving what I want and expect in some measure), this problem solver would want to look at the variables that can be changed to find a solution, and not the variables that are beyond control. Then again if variables are beyond control or prediction, this is an ill-posed problem, and a solution reached may only be by mere coincidence.

Having ran so far with my fingers, I wonder why the scenery does not change? Whether with my feet, my mind or my hands, the scenery seems too much the same. That is why I have to leave Logan. Enough new scenery. If I refuse, then maybe the scenery will change.