“Now, what is it that you want to do with this fancy degree of yours, Jonathan?”

Placing the only water-filled glass down on the table, I turn my head away from Kells' aunt as I contemplate her question. Whilst biting the right side of my bottom lip, I look up across the table to the grizzled city prosecutor seated across from me.

“I suppose,” I begin before turning my attention back to his wife, “that I want to do good.”

She leans her body forward as if to speak, but then pauses and retreats back into her seat. With a finger pressed against the side of her chin, she looks at me with one of those thoughtful gazes. “Good,” she starts, “I believe you will… I believe you will.”

The three of us, as well as Kells, the girl who invited me to the supper, are joined
by five others: the elderly couple’s 25 year old rebellious daughter Jo and her boyfriend Hameed, Jo’s friend Yuki and Yuki’s boyfriend Samuel, a carpenter down here in Austin, Texas. Another attorney rounded out our dinner party, a friend of Kells' aunt and uncle, a.k.a. our hosts.

A recurring theme of my Fall semester involved me figuring out just what the hell I should do upon graduation.. I reckon roughly 85-90 percent of my peer students will go straight into working at a big law firm, make somewhere around 200-300 an hour (and work 60-80 hours a week) and spend their foreseeable future ensuring that the powerful corporations they represent maintain their power.

I reject such a life. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with making money; it’s just that my time is worth more to me than mere dollars. There are so many fucked up things going on in the world today for me to just turn a blind eye to and pursue capital gain above all else. As someone who recalls being fairly happy whilst living off welfare and foodstamps, eating ramen noodles and mac and cheese every night because it’s all momma could afford, I suppose I’ve got a unique perspective that many Ivy Leaguers couldn’t truly empathize with.. so, yeah.. I can do without a shitton of money. Especially if the opportunity cost is my soul.

So, in an effort to figure out just what the hell to do with my life, I’m spending my winter Trimester in Austin rather than Cambridge. I’m currently working at an anti-Capital Punishment non-profit for school credit. The work is .. depressing, but that’s another entry for another day.


How do you know if you're on the right path? Hell, how do you know if there is even a "right path" to begin with? The only thing I do know is that I don't want to be one of the thousands upon thousands of graduates who can look at the world, diagnose all the problems, and do nothing about it.

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“Hey, pal?” I say aloud. She’s a few paces ahead of me, leading us back to my home. To be honest, it kind of felt like our home by this point. “I know I said I’m only capable of producing young strapping boys like myself and all,” I continue.

She rolls her eyes.

“What is it, bay?”

“A part of me likes the idea of us having a babygirl… Ophie, short for Ophelia. From Halmet.”



“… You do know how that story ends, right?”

“… Fuck you.”

“… Isn’t that how we got into this mess to begin with?”

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By the time I made my way to the back of the CVS, she was already in line. With palms pressed against the edge, her lithe frame leaned over the countertop, waiting on a pharmacist. She looked cool – poised, even, as if this whole thing was no big deal.

I reckoned the only reason she agreed to go to the pharmacy was to appease me. This is why I found it surprising when she took one hand off the counter and contorted her body enough to turn and face me. Rather than say anything, she just smiled as if to say “it’s alright. We’re alright.” I stood a good three yards behind her, one hand awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck and the other stuffed awkwardly into its proper pocket. I couldn’t think of what to say to her in that moment so I instead just bit my lip.


“Generic or brand name?” the pharmacist asks before I can say anything to her.
“Uh.. Generic,” She says.
“Okay. You can either take both now or take one, eat something, and take the other later. It’s recommended that you drink something when you take it though.”


Caitlin – yes, that Caitlin – reaches down for my hand as we walk out.




“Jon? I need a drink.”
“… Isn’t that how we got into this mess to begin with?”
She chuckles.







*Peep the date from that entry. 2003. C8lna nd I have been going back and forth with this romance thing since before 2003.. she really does have a way with me.


** My PC is in repair. So I'm updating from the school library. More entries coming as soon as I have access to more drafts.

***Middaymoon is the man. That is all.

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About a week or so into the semester, I began feenin for a change. Despite the great fortune I found myself in – a student, albeit a rather poor one, at the most prestigious institution in the world --, I longed to leave Harvard behind and explore other avenues. More creative avenues.

I began to live vicariously through an acquaintance of mine called Stephon. No, his real name is not Stephon – not even close, really. But he reminds me of Stephon from Family Matters. You know, Steve Urkel’s suave alter-ego.

Pseudo-Stephon definitely houses some quirky, nerdy qualities a la Urkel, but is still cooler than me like Mike Posner, hence why I’ll call him Stephon. And no, that does not make me Urkel. It makes me Goku. Know why? Fuck you, that’s why. Anyway…

I first met Stephon the night I met the aforementioned Red-headed girl from entries past and in the same capacity – we were both finalists for the Rhodes Scholarship. Being the only people of chocolate hue in the room – although different shades, seeing as how I’m more dark chocolate and he’s kinda caramel --, we naturally gravitated toward one another before the end of the night. Neither of us walked away with the title once donned by the likes of Willie Clinton and Eddie Hubble – yes, hubble telescope dude, -- but we walked away with something a lot cheesier: friendship. A bromance, if you will.

Subsequent to that night, Stephon and I went on diverging paths. I continued down the road of academia and wound up at Harvard. He penned a play, had it produced in Cleveland, Ohio, and is now pursuing an MFA at NYU. I implore you – please, do not get it twisted: a part of me is happy to be here at Harvard. That said, I am still rather envious of his present state of affairs.. I don’t care too much for NYC since I’m a slow paced fella in general, but a life consisting of nothing but penning literature and reading the work of others is one I long for.

So.. yeah. I started writing. I’ll be updated this blog a lot over the next few weeks with stuff I’m working on… I will strive to be as accurate in my stories as I can given the limits of the human psyche and memory, but I will probably embellish here and there for the benefit of my own bemusement. Names will be changed to protect the innocent – namely, me, in the unlikely case that I ever “make it” and these drafts become something more than the ramblings of a 23 year old would-be artist.

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Alright, self, here's the deal -- you got some shit on your mind that you've got to get out.


School. 2l vs 1l difference thus far. Lunches with individual classmates from lsat year.. Pittsburgh (The Michelle Obama, Hawaii, thinking man's vs whatever), D. Wade( long hair don't care, father stories), Iran and the Craigslist russian woman affair, DC Defense / NY Times article last year and salvation.. Swapping religion stories with DJ Khaled, Batman the animated series, learning from youtube, filmmaking, importance of being earnest horrible death, blood and guts vs corporate liability... umm who am i missing? I think that covers it.. that should be what, six, seven entries? oh, and sara's death.

Arboretum.. Wendy, my pattern with ladypals, trust issues, beard cleaning infront of shitty diners... ummm yeah






her. the visit. the pouting, the shutting down, the ptsd, the class, the walks to yarn and koreana and the cvs convo and you're funny you're joking damaged, the mocking sad face baby voice, the flight of the conchords stealing, the being more simple than you thought, cows dallas austin look at me during no one else babies nugget what are you thinking, scale of 1/10 weirdness being 9, the COWCOWS, the we need to talk, the routine back in the bedroom of coat unbutton then removal from shoulders then cardigan/sweater/shirt, then sit, then each show and lace to the wherever, then head in lap then ask what to do and the whole not being used to it. the walk to the park and the being too inetnse love a lot expect the same can't do it i can't change who i am but i can temper my expectations and i need to know this and that and talk to me, oh and the shutting down down down but in a bad way. the triggering something that makes it go away fora minute or two or six hundredand not knowing what to do but wanting to be patient but whatevs man whatevs.. the whole being disguested by coupels with the sacrifice and the arguing and the emotion ont heir sleees and all that lame shit as an observer.. observe, dont invest, being selfish and wanting to do shit on my own and not compromise on anything fuck compromise, the what are we, the age difference in thailand that was upsetting and led to the talk of grant brains out and not feeling all that jeaous and the long long long goodbye, the random stranger and the book and the whole world vs girl, small town isn't where people like you end up.. dont go getting married i wont come i didnt say congratulations ever because i wouldn't mean that shit.. whats wrong with that state for lovers? glorification of shit is all, pal.. and as twan said in tarpped in the closet, a family man me man im too deep in these streets dontwant HAWAII MOTHERFUCKER DAMNIT HAWAII or texas don't cry texans dont cry heart.





work on this shit over the next few days... post once every two or three days after refining shit on own. catch up on reading other blogs and school work.




the walksssssssssssssssssssss



this shit is unreadable to the world but i get it. I GET IT OKAY DONT JUDGE ME IT WILL MAKE SENSE EVENTUALLY OKAY PALS KTHXBYESADMUSICTIME

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REAL TALK MY FACE IS ALL :




CAUSE I DONT CARE ABOUT YOUR LIFE IN PARIS

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