January 11th, 2008 - "Believe it or Not"

I have yet to fall asleep, so yesterday is still today until my eyelids can no longer delay tomorrow.

I apologize, dear journal slash blog slash diary slash imaginary audience, for the lack of an entry for January 11th proper. I tend to do a lot of my writing in the wee hours of the morning, so maybe we should adjust my entry deadlines to some timezone nearer to the Marianas trench. The reason for this one being late for the GMT Eastern timezone is because today has been filled up with commuting and preparing for Sunday. And thinking without thought; a trend in labor.

The primary of today was spent in Florence getting all those techno goodies and school supplies that financial aid refunds tend to bring about. Being a Journalism is almost like reverting to the 4th grade: pens, pencils, notebook paper, a stack of colorful legal pads and lots and lots of erasers. Indeed, I could keep all the paper in a trapper keeper and tote the erasers in a Spider-Man plastic lunchbox with a broken snap and I could probably pass for the demographic.

But despite the busy scheduling and ripping out the innards of my computer all through today and this evening, I've not thought much about anything of consequence that didn't require batteries or a driver CD, which is a blessed occurrence- the lack of thinking, not the driver CD. Those are a pain. In fact, it is only just recently, while washing dishes by hand at 3:30am listening to some random Nickelback that I was absolutely shocked by something:

I'm okay. I'm not sad or lonely or frustrated or angry or terribly lovesick of distant. I'm actually quite at peace at this moment and I wish had a bottle of champaign to celebrate. While scrubbing some plate or another, I thought about my return to 'The Wu' and what all my return will entail, especially on the first day, and I'm fine with it. I'm actually a little happy with expectation and that only scares me a little. Just a little. A wee, not too much to worry over.

I think I'm just unfamiliar with feeling alright and okay. I think, also, that I'd like to become familiar with the feeling. So here's an imaginary crystal fluted toast to feeling "okay".


P.S. - "And also- cuz I don't need no numbers!" - Thanks Chad, for bringing out the idiot in me.

I nearly forgot about posting a blog for the 10th. It's technically the 11th right now but since I haven't gone to sleep yet, I still consider right now "today" and tomorrow won't come until I wake up, no matter how far away that is. So, I'll make this entry short, since it would've been anyway. It's not that I'm unable to write, it's just that there are no burning issues at the moment I feel the need to vent about. Sorry journal, but you're not the biggest priority right now.

Today was about material things. That was my priority today. I got my Zune back, er...a Zune. They couldn't seem to fix the headphone jack, which I thought would've been a seemingly simple repair job, and instead sent me a replacement Halo 3 Limited Edition Zune to compensate for my own Halo 3 Limited Edition Zune + all my music and pics. Oh well, I still have the files so I can just resync them. But now I have two worries on my mind: there are pictures of me and my friends floating around Microsoft Corp. somewhere and also...just how limited is that model Zune if they can just throw replacements around like confetti. I say like confetti because all that needed to be fixed was a $2.00 headphone port.

Oh well, I have a Zune again and this one's new so there's no scratches on the the screen. Not that there were many on the other, since I take very good care of my electronics, but still, any scratch is a bad scratch...at least on electronics. That was my big moment for today, aside from buying a new video card for my computer, something I've been meaning to do for a long time. Since I can't upgrade my motherboard or CPU without getting a whole new setup, I decided to save $$$ and buy a midrange 512MB Radeon HD 26000 XT. I do more multimedia than gaming, so the limited gaming capacity is fine by me. What really sold me was the dual DVI-out as well as the HDMI out functionality. What this means is that I can hook it directly to my TV and have full 1080p signal and 5.1 audio from my PC.

The audio is only a boon due to the fact that I can have multi-source sound from my PC. I have a 7.1 hi-def XiFi sound card in that will soon be running to some Logitech z5300e's, so I can have music playing on one 5.1 setup while I watch TV or movies on the other 5.1 setup. Plus, if I ever want to get a second 22" monitor, the card can support dual displays just fine.

The biggest reason I looked at the card aside from the HDMI output is that it's designed for Vista, DirectX 10 and watching HD movies. And we all know how much I like streaming my HD rips from my PC to my TV. Hell, I just got a 750GB external HD drive because I was running out of room on my 320GB external that I'd been using solely for movies. So, I now have a 120GB Seagate FreeAgent Go, a 320GB Seagate FreeAgent Pro and a 750GB Seagate FreeAgent Pro. That's 1.19 terabytes of external storage, plus the onboard 160GB HDD that I use for OS, programs, and games. I shouldn't be low on space for at least a year.

However, with the recent news that HD-DVD has pretty much lost to Blu-Ray, due to Warner Brothers shifting over to Blu-Ray in May, I may be buying a Blu-Ray player this summer and backing up those discs in my computer, so I may in fact still eventually need more room. Oh just think of all the USB slots I'll need...

But a lot of that is in the future. Right now I have books to buy (and sell), fraternity dues to pay, a TV to pay off, a looming massive print quota fee...I've got a lot of financial obligations to look toward, so a Blu-Ray player and all that, as much as I lust after the idea, are just going to have to wait. The video card was a needed upgrade that I'd been planning for a while and holding out on until I saw someone put the card on clearance. And even that took some self persuasion. I kinda of had to decide between that and chipping in for Rock Band...but my anticipation of Rock Band waxes and wanes depending on how pissed off I am at Guitar Hero. And today it pissed me off. I got 5 stars on every song on the set list and bonus list on medium except Through the Fire and Flames.

Did I try and 5-star it? Once. And I got tired of hearing clanking and plinking, so I said "screw it, I'll start a new career track on Hard" and guess who kicked my ass. Just guess. Fucking Brett Michaels! Brett Michaels of all people! Ok, fine, technically Poison did, but Brett Michaels represents the band and I hate pretty much anything tainted by the over-indulging ego-maniacal self-worshiping cockbuckler that is Brett Michaels.

I was crestfallen and immediately turned the Xbox off and packed it up for the coming semester. I then went to the computer and said "Hey there, Mr. Video Card, are we on sale today? Why yes, we are! Oh, Rock Band? Pssh, what about Rock Band?" and then and there solidified a sudden and oddly significant change in priorities. Because I realized something...I don't really want Rock Band. I like the drums, yeah, but that's not enough allure for $170 (I only paid half that for the card) just to have a game that my friends will play more than I do. I've stooped pretty low in methods of alleviating my loneliness, but using a videogame to buy popularity is pretty much my limit.

Not that I'd mind playing it if Mike or someone else got it. But I tend to game alone or online and upon this logic...buying Rock Band just doesn't make any sense for me. Sure, I'm in a college dorm and a lot of my friends would want to come to my room and play it, but if they want to play it in my room so badly, they can chip in for the game. It's not a game I'd buy for myself, so I chose not to. The video card will probably last me longer and benefit me more in the long run.

So, yeah, the Xbox360 is packed away and all set to be lugged to Winthrop. I will be taking my computer apart and packing it too, once I record the sound clips for these scripts and send them off to G.J. Oh yeah, I don't know if I mentioned; I got cast as the (very cockney) voice of Sgt. Pipes in an upcoming Halo 3 machinima called 2152. I've gotten the scripts for the first two episodes and I need to record my lines and submit them for editing before I pack my computer up, so I'll probably be doing that tomorrow.

I may wait until Chad drops off the power supply, though. He's upgrading his PC and is giving me his old 500watt power supply (he got a new 1200W one), which saves me $80 because I was going to need a new PSU to run the video card on top of the sound card and external HDD's. I was going to use that money to buy gifts for Mike and Michelle and everyone, but they keep telling me to not buy them anything, so I guess I won't by them...much. I gotta get something, right? But I'll compromise and try and get gifts focused on sentimental value instead of dollar value, which is the point in the first place, right? Besides, I already bought them, so nothing they can do about it, right?

I'm very aware that my refund will only go so far. I still need to get a job and the silence on my cell phone is making it very known that Toys-R-Us apparently didn't find me suited for working in the electronics/gaming department, so I'll need to look elsewhere. Perhaps the RadioShack near campus if they're hiring. At the moment, I'm thinking about that damned TV and how much it costs a month and I'm also thinking of my prescription bills when the shrinks inevitably decide to put me back on meds (I don't like it...but it makes sense...) and I'm realizing that I'm going to have to take whatever job I can get if I don't want to ruin my credit. I mean, I bought the damned TV to build a credit score for fuck's sake. Wouldn't be very consistent of me to get it repo'd would it?

Plus, if they took my TV I'd probably cry...and cry...and cry some more. That TV is my red corvette. It is my mid-life crisis 2 decades early...I've gotta get a job if only to not lose it.

....wow...that's pathetic. I gain man-points for that, but I suffer the loss of an equal amount of self-respect points in return. Hell, I admit I'm addicted to technology, which in an of itself is not a bad thing....unless you're poor...which I am...and then it could be a bad thing...which it is. Aaaah goddamnit anyway. Thanks Mitch.

....Looking up, I question my definition of "short." Generally in the thesaurus, short is near to succinct, brief, terse and other such synonyms for abbreviated. Apparently my definition of "short" thinks all those words smell bad because it's an awfully far distance from them. I wonder if I could ever write an actual short blog if I tried. But unlike Journals and Diaries, Blog's aren't about trying, are they? They're about existing somewhere that's not real. About recreating a personal image of yourself that can't be rained on or punch in the nose. So the minute I actually try, this quits being a blog and begins to be a journal or diary and by default of definition I revert to an angsty high-schooler with a perpetual scowl and junior carpal tunnel.

All things aside, at least my Zune is here, the firmware upgrade is installed and it's nearly done synching. I really enjoy the new aesthetic of the firmware and the marketing of the Zune now. It's very creative and original; most unexpected adjectives to describe a Microsoft product. I'm looking forward to see what becomes of the Zune brand. Hopefully it can add some life and decidedly un-chic flavor to an equally overly-chic iPodified market. Because quite frankly, iMsick of iBalling and Hearing about goddamned iPods and iMacs that i'Dlove to shove up the iHole of half these blazer-wearing, goatee-sporting iTools.

And plus, now that I have my Zune, I can put my headphones on and ignore the real world as much as I want. And isn't that the entire point of technology?

January 9th, 2008 - Cabin Fever Keeps Out the Jitters

I’m antsy. This house is just too much of the same for me to stand it much longer. I’m only here for a few days, but even so, I’m both anxious to leave and just as anxious about the coming semester. It’s got me feeling jittery whenever I think about the next few months. I screwed up so badly last semester that I guess I’m afraid that this semester will just be a continuation of that 4-month train wreck.

To tell you the truth, I am also looking a bit forward to it. I have a new room, a new roommate, and it’s a new year. Maybe…just maybe I can start fresh this time. True, I still have a couple major pieces of baggage on my shoulders, and as beautiful as some of that baggage is, it’s holding me back and holding me down. Not so much by existing, but by being so convenient for me to think about that I can’t stop dwelling. Because that’s what I do; I dwell and I regret and I’m ready to quit that. But I’ve also got to be careful I don’t lose myself in the process.

Certainly there are a few things to look forward to. My fully repaired Zune should be arriving, fully functional and free of charge, sometime tomorrow and Saturday I get to pack, which I always enjoy. I like packing; the feeling it gives of change and forward motion. It makes me feel as though I’m taking steps towards progress, even if I’m only returning to somewhere I’ve already been. But then again…a place is only a location. Winthrop…it’s an experience. Sometimes awful…sometimes, maybe sometime soon….hopefully not.

Then again, our room will probably be pretty damned popular. Not only are we going to have a whopping 3 TVs (11”, 19” and 40”) as well as the 360 and surround, but pretty soon we’ll be getting Rock Band to go with Guitar Hero 3. Chances are, that coupled with my knack for interior decorating, means we’ll probably be getting quite a bit of company during the semester- and quite a few noise violations in the process, I imagine.

On a sad note, I still have no car and with no car, the chances of a job are somewhere between zip and nada. Sure, there are jobs within walking distance, but I’m not dumb enough to think those aren’t already full. I don’t want to go back to being a Lab Op. I need better pay and more hours if I’m to pay my monthly bills as well as help my dad out. It’s a lot of pressure to be added on top of an entirely new major. Am I going to be good at Journalism? Or is it just another pipe dream I’m not cut out for? I guess, like theatre and art, where I had the skill but not the patience or passion, respectively, I’ll have to try it and see.

Along with a job and new major, I have to try and find a mental health center in Rock Hill who will work with a poor college student. Then I have to secure transportation so I can get re-evaluated and maybe get some academic accommodations through Winthrop and maybe, if there’s no other alternative, be put back on meds. But unlike elementary and middle school, this time I will have a say in the process this time. I will not be some lab rat or guinea pig. Hopefully I’ll be able to get something going, somehow, where I’ll be able to get away from myself long enough to enjoy life and all that it offers.

In the meantime, I’m trying to find new hobbies. I want to get back to working out on a regular basis again, maybe start a new jogging route. I know that being physically healthy leads to being healthier mentally as well along with improving personal body-image and confidence and that’s always been one of my weak points. I’ve always felt fat and unattractive with my shirt off and while some things can’t be helped, I think working towards bettering my physical fitness will go a long way towards making me feel better about myself. Hell, who knows, I may eventually get a shot at being in the UFC if I stay dedicated.

Along with this, I’ve been auditioning for a lot of voice-acting work for online machinima projects, primarily using Halo 3. I want to be involved in some kind of performance-oriented hobby and I’ve always felt my skill in vocal delivery is good for voice-acting. I love acting, directing and writing. I always have, don’t get me wrong. The reason I quit as a theatre major wasn’t a lack of love for the craft; it was a blatant fear and loathing of that “cult” in Johnson Hall comprised of theatre majors. I felt so unwanted and so unwelcome there that I just lost any desire I ever had to perform onstage there. As such, I’ve set my sights elsewhere, starting with a field that I’m more interested in. I’m still waiting for a reply from the project lead, so I’ll see how it turns out when I hear back from him.

When I logged on a little while ago, I knew I’d need to write something before the day’s end, even though I didn’t really have any issues I felt any burning need to discuss or vent about. So while this hasn’t really been a therapeutic entry, it has helped in that it’s teaching me to write even when I don’t feel like it; something I’ll need to do often if I want to make it in the field of journalism. So here’s to a guaranteed aspect of my future: working despite a loss of inspiration.

January 8th, 2008 - "Dissatisfaction"

Dissatisfaction. Do you remember a time when you were too small to ride the Tilt-a-Whirl when the word didn’t exist in your world? Not only because you hadn’t learned it yet, but because you’d never experienced it? At what point do we learn to want and never stop wanting? Is there a certain age when we become insatiable in our petty greed? A good, reliable car is never enough. Now we want a car with more room, a CD-changer and a hemi. Your computer does everything you need it to, yet you want one now with a dual-core processor and two video cards. Why? Why indeed because there’s no logical answer. Logic and greed have nothing in common.

I am greedy. Especially with two things: Technology and Love. I am always lusting after the latest tech gadgets, none of which I can afford. I have a huge TV, but now I want one with a higher contrast ratio just so I can feel satisfied it’s the best when in reality I probably have the best TV on campus. I want a new phone when really all I need is a bigger texting plan. I want Love and sometimes I get Love, and yet it never seems enough. I have this fear of infidelity, this fear that my love isn’t going to be quite good enough for her. I want Love plus security, which one person just can’t give. Security is gain through oneself, not through another’s actions and words. So why the hell do I expect to be given a sense of security everytime “I love you” is exchanged? Because I’m selfish, like everyone else.

What do I do about this? How do I gain a sense of security? Oh there’s all kinds of outlying contributors; self-esteem, confidence, trust, being hurt in the past, abandonment issues, etc, etc. And true, they all have a valid contribution to this Manhattan Shitstain that is my mind, but the truth is I’m still selfish. I’m selfish and greedy and the one thing I want more of is myself. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want more of me or my company. An overabundance of me is probably what got me in this hole in the first place. No, I’m greedy because I always expect more and more out of me than I can realistically provide.

I’m insecure because I don’t have realistic expectations of myself. I want to be thinner, stronger, prettier, smarter, more socially likeable, funnier, more talented, and overall more than I can realistically be. I have yet to accept me for who I am. The only thing I’d like to have a bit less of is my prowess under the sheets, which has gotten me into quite a bit of trouble the past couple of years. Other than that I am constantly, what? You guess it, dissatisfied. With who? With moi! Myself, of course. I’m always afraid she’s going to love someone else instead of me because I don’t understand why she loves me in the first place because I haven’t truly loved myself since I was 5 years old.

And here is where the argument of narcissism comes in. Narcissists love themselves and seem to have an issue of arrogance. I’ve been called arrogant and I’ve been called narcissistic before and for a long time, I conformed to these applied titles because I thought they were right. But they are not right at all. I’m not narcissistic. I don’t like myself enough to be a narcissist. I’m self-centered, yes, but not out of self-love. I’m centered on myself because I spent half my life alone in a house with me, myself, and my estranged company of I.

Having very few friends in addition to a single father who spent many nights working late taught me many things: self-sufficiency, cooking, cleaning, how to alleviate boredom, a strong imagination, and more of the like. What it did not teach me is that I am not alone. That I am the center of my universe, yes, but not so much the center of his or her universe because that spot’s already taken him him or her. When you grow up as your own closest and most constant human companion, it kind of imprints on you the skewed priority of your role in your most eschewed world.

So the fact is I’m self-centered because for the longest time I was all I knew. During late high school and now college, I’ve been exposed to more and more people who actually interact with me and it’s slowly, but surely, chipping away at that old programming. I’m no longer as alone; now I’m just paranoid. Wonderful. But hey, it’s a step, right? Crawl before you walk, walk before you crawl, wreck a racecar before you win with it, etc. I imagine that eventually, through roommates and friends, I’ll finally be a bit less of a psychological isolationist and come to terms with the tangibility of those around me who, and this still hasn’t hit home, also share this reality with me.

As for the arrogance? Hah. Nice try but that thing you think is arrogance is really my red Ferrari. Company CEOs buy red Ferraris to make up for their small penis and material lifestyle. Since I’m not a company CEO, I can’t afford a red Ferrari, and I don’t consider my penis insufficient in any way, I instead compensate for my internal shortcomings by trying to convince myself that I’m better than I am by convincing those around me that I’m better than I am. Reread it if you need to, the syntax works. Basically, I come across as arrogant to some because somewhere around my hypothalamus region I’m trying to convince myself I’m not such a failure. This comes across as me trying to convince you that I’m a success, because in my mind, success =/= failure. So if you’re talking to me and you think I’m being arrogant, I’m actually having another bout of average insecurity. Usually a hug helps.

As for Love…well, notice that I place capital L on the damned thing. I idolize Love. I endear towards it always. I am a hopeless romantic who’s become a bit bitter via a few too many stings. But who I am right now, at this very moment, as a man and as a human…I don’t feel deserving of Love. Maybe love, like that of friends and family, but not Love. I don’t deserve romance because I don’t think anybody in the world has sinned badly enough to deserve an attempt at romance with me. I discussed this yesterday and it’ll probably find some way to creepy into tomorrow’s entry because it’s constantly on my mind. I am not in any condition to be Loved. And when I Love and that Love is requited, well can you guess that my hopes get pretty high up?

But the plain and simple is that I’m not currently fit for romance. My mental state at college is such that I am more an exercise in crazysitting than actual romance right now. I’m instable, my bipolar is to the point where I not only have to deal with season persona shifts but now I am having a resurgence of irregular rapid-cycling bipolar. I’m impulsive, moody, unpredictable and prone to bouts of unexplainable severe depression and loneliness, regardless of the surrounding atmosphere of my life. I don’t think it’s fair to try and subject anyone to that and expect them to stick around for very long. It makes more sense to just stay single until I learn how to deal with my problems in a natural, intentional manner.

The problem is this: I’m in love with someone who was in love with me but has returned to the man she left for me. She says she loves me and that’s all well and good and I cherish her friendship, but I am dying. Because I know she is not in love with me while I am in love with her. My love is requited in all levels except the levels that give me breath. The problem here is not the fact that she is no longer in love with me, it’s that I’m still in love with her and I can’t move on to “just friends” until I find some way to fall out of love with her and you know what? Shakespeare didn’t write about falling out of love so I’m a bit in the dark here, y’know?

Because she’s so wonderful and such a beautiful person, inside and out, and I just don’t understand how in the hell I can convince myself to not be physically sick when I know she’s with him. I can’t be comfortable around her like this. It hurts to hear her voice and as such, for right now, I’ve cut my self off from her: my umbilical. But I return to school in a week and she lives in the room above me (oh God, to imagine what things I may hear that I’d rather not; that bastard) and her friends are mine and it would all be fine if I did not love her. Because then we could be friends and just friends, like it was probably all meant to be. So why can’t I stop breathing faster at her laugh? It would all be some much easier if I didn’t love her.

It would all be so much easier if I could just be satisfied with mere friendship. But there it is again: dissatisfaction.

Entry 2 - "Creepy"

Question: am I creepy? I never mean to be, but a large majority of the people I've ever cared about at one time or another have called me creepy. In what way, they never specify, but it usually comes as a result of an action or series of actions I intended to be funny or sweet and apparently came across as creepy instead. So…how do I handle this? Should just cease the intention of being funny or sweet? Or should I cease contact with those I care about and just not risk it? I know neither answers are logical, but since when have I been logical? I'm as much a woman in my head as I am a man on the outside, so what obligations do I have to logic, hmm? None. Logic can jog on.

So…creepy. I guess that can be understood. I grew up an only child with only a handful of actual friends, and only a few of those were ever truly close to me. I have never really learned how to express myself to other people; my social skills are about as sharp as George Dubyah's wit. I understand this is why I'm innately self-centered and difficult to talk to, but it's so very frustrating nonetheless. Occasionally I'd like to be an understood individual; to be a little less mysterious and a little more accessible. Being an oddity doesn't exactly do much to alleviate loneliness.

And I am lonely. Even when I'm with my current group of friends and socialites, I'm still lonely. Because I understand that nobody there actually knows me and I can't blame them because I hardly know myself. I'm so emotionally unpredictable even I don't know what's coming up next. Like ever other spring, I imagine sometime within the next month I'll endeavor to get a handle on my emotions, but for some reason seeing me so reserved and so...passive…well, it drives people away even more than me being an impulsive nervous wreck. Maybe I should just stick to video game and never leave my room again. Ero Sennin, indeed, mon pei.

I've been toying with the idea of absolute isolation for a while now. The past year has proven one thing to me: I am unmatchable. I will never have a wife and I will never have a family. Not because there is nobody out there who is right for me, but instead because I am not right for anybody out there. If wouldn't force myself upon someone condemned to eternal damnation. I have never understood why anyone ever fell in love with me and the past year have made it clear that everyone who ever has was actually suffering from a severe bout of dementia often misconstrued for love. Oops.


The issue is once again of unpredictability. I am so scattered, so split between so many essential me's that dating me really should classified as polygamy. I can't expect anybody to be able to actually cope with my mental instabilities. I can't even do it, so why should you? I don't blame you for leaving at the first sign of a season personality shift. Welcome to the world of a seasonal bipolar Section 8 nutjob. Enjoy your stay; your hosts will alternate every 2-4 months at the convenience of nobody in particular.

Is it too much to ask for a little mental consistency?

And my general social life isn't exactly a theory of success either. I have friends, yes, but something tells me it's not really their idea of a good time to have me come over. It nags at me; wrenches with lobes and nodes and other bits and chunks of my brain, that perhaps they're only my friends because they're afraid of what would happen to me, what I would do to myself, if they weren't. People! I've been abandoned before and I will be abandoned again many times in my life. I can handle it. Don't be afraid to walk away. Otherwise you're making this awkward for everybody involved.

As for myself? I think maybe I'll decide to be an overachiever and hit my midlife crisis a couple decades early. Become a workaholic. Straight A's so my dad will get off my back and I won't be so full of guilt I piss sad sighing sounds and shit the letter G in the morning. Maybe graduate right into a nice desk job where I get paid a ridiculous amount of money for a job I don't really pay any attention to. Rent a nice studio apartment and fill it with hugely expensive electronics to compensate for the fact that I'm 30 and single with no real hope or intention of changing that.

Maybe I'll drive a really fast car with great trunk space so I can be safe knowing that, need be, I can make a speedy getaway when reality bites just a little too deep into my left flank and the office smells like rotting what-ifs. Or maybe just so I can know that when I do finally drive off that bridge at the end of my two weeks notice, I'll get some great hang time and people will ask "Who was that guy and why the hell did he wreck such a sweet ride?"

Yeah…becoming obsessed with my schoolwork and my job can't turn out TOO badly, can it? What's wrong with material success? I've never really experienced it, so maybe it's time to try something new: not being a complete failure. Oh dear, there goes my "self-defeating personality" again. Thanks for pointing out that bit, doc. Who would've thunk it that all these bruises on my psyche are self-inflicted if not for your divine wisdom? What a wonderful source of professional help you've been; so knowledgeable and resourceful. Aflak, motherfucker.

The truth is, in a couple days I'll have gotten over this and then a couple days after that I'll feel like this again. Rapid-cycling bi-polar disorder. Hell, if it weren't written down with someone else's bad handwriting, I'd think I was a hypochondriac. Who knows, maybe I am and we can add that to the list. If Santa passed out prescriptions, I'd be one happy hypo.

Actually, I still don't take meds. No, revise that: I still won't take meds. See, this is the point where hubris takes point and I grow a donkey's grin and sit back stubborn and shaking my head. Because meds means my mind lost. Not is lost, but HAS lost. It means my essential being, my self is not strong enough to overcome these afflictions and I must be assisted in my daily existence. that is not living. That is being stuck on mental life support while the real you, the inner you, gags on the rebreather and lays vegetative under the covers and fluorescent blue-white lights. I would rather live my entire life fighting a mental stalemate than submit to that kind of induced reality. I am stronger than that and someday I will prove it.

Yes, I am mentally unstable and I am hard to deal with and even harder to understand. My friends know this, but part of me wonders if they are capable of accepting it. That inability to accept, no matter what the will, is why 'She' after 'She' after 'She' is now just relegated to 'her' in the past tense. It's why so many "best friends" are just stories I tell when I'm drunk. It's why I'm here now, typing in an empty house ignoring my phone for calls that aren't even incoming. Thanks for wanting to be my friend, for wanting to help, but we're all only human.

Wanting to help, wanting to be there for me, doesn't mean you can. Some people…most people, can't. I'm just too much to handle. I don't blame you, any of you, for leaving. If I weren't bound by these ridiculous notions of honor and duty and obligation, I would too. But those notions, those ideals, are self-inflicted and not everyone is as mentally masochistic as me.

And on a side note: wow, I sound like a goddamned Senses Fail song. Fuck. "I'm an emo kid, nonconforming as can be. You can be nonconforming too if you're just like me." Ah fuck it. Who cares? Originality is just an illusion for artists and writers to get horny over.

Anyways, am I creepy? No. Not any more so than anyone else really is. I just lack the practice to hide it as well as everyone else. Creepy is when someone else expresses more of a specific emotion than we want or expect. It's an issue of control. We worry over those who lack that self-control; worry what they are capable of. It's not an actual fear of what they feel, because if they expressed it in a more controlled manner then it wouldn't be creepy, would it? No. Creepy comes when they're a bit too enthusiastic and unexpected in expressing how they feel.

And for this reason, I'm at a severe disadvantage. As socially unpracticed as I am, it's hard to for me control how I express myself, how I convey my emotions and intentions. They often come out unfiltered and pure. And pure emotion is sadly unacceptable in today's time. Even passion isn't pure anymore. Nothing is pure except the cold, intolerant bias against vulnerability. I don't care who knows it. I am very emotional vulnerable. Having not had my perception of my role as a male colored by a mother figure, I have no obsession with machismo. I am not concerned with appearing manly or macho. I am masculine because I am honest with who I am. And masculinity is what so many of my male peers lack.

However strong or fast I am physically, the real reason I am masculine is because I can admit that I am emotionally vulnerable; I can confront my flaws; something which few people can do and even fewer can be proud of. I am proud that I am flawed. Sometimes my pride is a flaw in and of itself, but I know that my negative pride and the hubris it brings are against me; against my own internal failings and my disappointments with myself. I really am my biggest critic and my biggest bully. More than anybody outside my door will ever hurt me or berate me, I've already done so dozens of times before leaving my room. I know what my flaws are and while I am not proud of them, I'm proud that I know them.

So am I proud that I've been called creepy? No. Hell no. That's stupid to be proud of something like that and if you thought I'd say Yes then you've watched too many Will Smith movies. But as disappointed as I am that I've merited the title of creepy, I'm more disappointed by the fact that 'She' and 'She' and 'She' couldn't get over it and move past it. In time, with practice and exposure to socialization, I'll eventually learn to build my mask and filter my expressions of emotions. But those emotions will still be there, even though I'll no longer be called creepy. Because the only reason I'm called creepy is because the world can't handle the unadulterated expression of emotion, whether it is mirth, sadness, love, anger, humor, mischief, compassion, hate, or loneliness.

I'm creepy because I know how to feel.

Entry 1: "Because he said so"

So my therapist says that as a certified Section 8 I need a regular thought outlet that can also act as a disciplining agent in my daily life. He hinted that since I’m a Journalism major now, I might want to start journaling. Well Hell knows that writing longhand is just a bit too close to drawing for this ex-artist, so I think I’ll take the high-tech road and keep a digital journal….ie. a blog. Well fuck, since I’m writing a blog, I might as well resurrect my forgotten MySpace, DeviantArt and LiveJournal accounts and maybe open a Blogger so I can regain my place as one of about 8 people on the internet who don’t use either as a personal dating service for the inter-gender impaired.

Christmas sucks and if you think it doesn’t then you apparently have “never had the joy of a welfare Christmas” (thanks Everclear). My dad and didn’t bother even putting up lights and a tree this year. I’m sorry, but we don’t need to advertise our willingness to be sucked into the commercialistic free-for-all that is the A.S.S., or American Shopping Season. Even if we did put up a tree and lights, the tree would’ve been mighty lonely because we could not afford gifts this year. We decided to prioritize and buy food instead. Because groceries and an empty tree sure as hell beats looking like an anorexic as your play with your new gameboy.

It’s not that I so much hate Christmas, I just generally hate the people who love it. Or maybe I’ve just become jaded by the past semester of self-defeatism and romantic bloodletting and should be ignored like the old guy in a bath robe who spits expletives at the squirrels in his front yard.

Now New Years, there’s a holiday I can get into. I love the entire mentality of New Years: “Fuck the past, let’s blow shit up!” because that has been the American way for so long as I can remember. Why else would we still have war? And every year it’s the same: Jestin and myself head on up to Mark’s place, where we have a gathering where Jestin and I are the only sober ones as Mark breaks out about $1000 worth of fireworks and finds more and more extravagantly dangerous ways to make things sparkle and go boom, preferably at the same time. Guys + Alcohol + Explosives = a damned good time and maybe a missing toe or two. Me? I have all my toes but I did get a little burned.

As for Christmas Break overall? Well, if it weren’t for Jestin and Chad, I’d probably be even more stir-crazy than usual. They’re the only company outside of my father I ever really have back in Marion and that’s an issue of choice, to be honest. All we ever really do is play video games and go to the Best Buy in Florence to challenge the pair of asian kids that are always playing the Rock Band station. When Jestin and Chad aren’t around, my days are limited to the inside of my abode, cleaning and fixing things, cooking, and playing games.

Speaking of games, thanks to Chad and to Jestin’s family, I did have a bit of a Christmas. Jestin’s family was so nice to give me a brand-new printer they couldn’t seem to get working (the cartridges are duds and a copy of Call of Duty 4 they got for $30 with a gift card. Chad, however, went all out and got me Guitar Hero III, which means me and Mike are going to lose a lot of sleep this semester, especially if we get Rock Band, too.

And I was able to take my dad to see AVP:R for Christmas, albeit the following Sunday, but hey, it was Christmas enough for us. He understands how short I am on cash and we’re both big fans of the Aliens movies, so it seemed like a good chance to spend some time together. The only bad part is he had to drive, since my own car is still busted. Without a car, finding a job back at Winthrop is going to be a lot harder. I don’t want to suffer the dulldrum and awful pay of being a Lab Op again, but my choices are apparently very limited, so I’m pretty boned, it seems. I wish I did have some money, since I wasn’t able to go shopping for gifts for anybody except Michelle, and even her gift was not what I really wanted to get, but it’s all I could afford.

Well, my mood for writing is fast fading, so I’m going to end this and maybe write something later or tomorrow. I doubt anybody will read this, but I’m just following doctor’s orders anyway, so does it actually matter? Most likely it doesn’t and Freddy Mercury was right after all. Either way, I’m gonna end this before my rambling becomes completely incoherent. Bye.