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FUCK0301.TXT
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1997-04-14
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136 lines
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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zen - me - zine
---------------
A little over four years ago I don't know if I really believed
this magazine would make it this far. I did have the hope and desire
for it to go a long way. The people I talked to about where it might
go all showed doubt or skepticism. This file is for them.
Many things have happened over the last year or so that have
directly influenced the zine, the writers, and myself. I guess that
probably doesn't need to be said since that is the case for just
about everything. My inclination says that most of the writers for
this zine have very dynamic lives compared to the average person.
Looking back at how I used to be compared to how I was a few
years ago shows me the difference between white and black. Literally
and figuratively. I notice a pattern with my life though, and I can
predict the future to a certain degree as far as my being is concerned.
As many people have said before, things move in circles. I personally
like it the way Tommy Lee Jones said it in _Under Siege_. "A revolution
gets it's name by always coming back around in your face." And I feel
that is the case with me. After consideration of more worldly experiences
and engaging in more "social situations", I see myself returning to the
old me.
What does that mean? Nothing and everything. It probably means
nothing to you if you don't know me. For those who do, it means little
or nothing as the case may be. Means everything in the world to me of
course. The older more bitter me. The me full of angst and loathing for
the world I live in. The more mistrusting and calculating me. The cruel
and potentially evil me. But with a twist...
It used to be me sharing my anger with everyone, friends and family
included. Now, I forsee a more refined and passionate anger. Such that
my friends will still see my generosity while my aquaintences will see
a level of distance and aloofness. I question which side of me is my
true nature though. Part of says being distant is my true nature because
of the sheer amount of years that I went like that. Part of me says
my generosity is my true nature because I usually feel better when I
am able to help my friends and give them whatever they need. I think it
will be years down the road before I can ever answer that question.
Voyager got me a shirt a few months back that says "Fuck You,
I have enough friends." I can't help but wonder if he saw the turmoil
I am going through, or maybe even saw the end result of my own questioning.
Maybe it was pure coincidence and he thought it was funny. Now, I certainly
agree with what it says. Part of me now wants to distance myself from
more of my friends while seeking out old friends I have lost contact with.
I don't know what to do. That is real funny considering all my friends
seem to think they know whats up.
Every once in a while friend A will say "friend B is walking all
over you", while friend B is saying "friend C is walking all over you".
Days later friend C is telling me how bad friend A is. Seems none of them
ever realize how they may be acting toward me. If I were to go strictly
on input from my friends, I would have none. I think to a certain degree
each and every one of them is right. Thinking along those lines I begin
to wonder about the nature of people, especially those I call 'friend'.
One thing it has recently reminded me of is an old story about the
nature of things.
An otter was sitting beside a stream enjoying himself when a
scorpion walked up to him. The scorpion said "I must get to
the other side of the stream but I can't swim". The otter
looked at the scorpion and said "I'm sorry, I can't help you."
The scorpion thought about it for a minute and said "Wait,
I can ride on your back and you can swim across." The otter
considered it for a moment before saying "But you would sting
me and I would drown!" The scorpion thought on this for a moment
and replied "But I have to get across the stream, its very
important. I promise I won't sting you." The otter looked
at him with trepidation and then agreed. He got in the water
and let the scorpion climb on his back before starting
to swim. Half way across the stream the scorpion stung the
otter on the back. "Why did you do that?! Now we will both
drown!" yelled the otter. The scorpion thought about it for
a few seconds as they both started sinking; "I don't know,
I guess it's in my nature."
I do place faith in stories like this one because they are so
often true. But I can't figure out if human nature is that cut and dry.
Is it my nature to continually give to my friends without praise? Is
it in their nature to continually take from me without thanks? If so,
should I even consider them friend?
I have burried myself into a deep dark pit. I won't go into
details about all of it, but needless to say I am no longer in a position
to help my friends in the same way I once used to. The truth will emerge
in the weeks to come though. When I cut off the support and help they
are ocustomed to, will they be there? More importantly, will they be
there for me when I am in need of the same type of help? Don't take this
wrong friends, but I seriously doubt it. And that is based off past trends,
nothing else.
As time passes, I find myself missing more of my personal
philosophy. I remember years ago promising never to get drunk, to be
a social drinker only. I remember promising never to get in a serious
relationship, to only date casually. I remember promising myself
a ton of other things, but failed at that. So I think back to my
philosophical side and wonder how I let it all slip away. I know I
haven't read a lot of my books or thought about that kind of stuff
much, but has it really ambandoned me? Or maybe I have supressed
it for one reason or another. I think that is something I need to find
out, to help me answer that and a world of other questions.
So I guess thats it. The zine will keep going, things will
progress. As always, the future is uncertain to a certain degree.
In the mean time, hold onto nothing as fast as you can.
.dis.
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