I'm told that I'm good-looking, intelligent, funny, and talented. People praise me for my management and organizational skills. I find myself complimented for my green thumb and my way with animals. A lot of people tell me they have incredible respect for my commitment to my beliefs and dedication to my friends. Some people tell me they enjoy my company more that most people they know. Yet with all of these positive attributes, I am alone with few friends and no lover.

Perhaps this is indeed my fault. I could certainly have many more "friends" if I wasn't so particular, didn't let people use me, and always held myself solely responsible for supporting and providing the friendship. I could certainly have more "lovers" if I wasn't so hung up on love or compassion or respect and just simply had fuck-buddies or one-night-stands or hired hustlers. If I just "lowered my standards" or wasn't "such a prude" or "took what I could get," then I wouldn't be so alone. If I would just "worked harder," "kept trying," ... blah, blah, blah ...

As much as it hurts to be alone, I just can't compromise on what I expect from a friend and what constitutes love. If it wasn't important then what's wrong with wife-beaters, child-abusers, or people that cheat, lie, or steal from their friends and lovers? If it wasn't important then why not find a pimp or a sugar-daddy or a master? If it wasn't important, why not just consider anybody you meet on the street to be a friend or lover? If there's nothing important about how you are treated by your friends or lovers or how you treat them, then what the fuck does it matter?

The bottom line is, it does matter. I can't be in an abusive relationship because I have more respect for myself and others than to do that. I could probably find someone that got some thrill from abusing me, and I would indeed not be alone if I had that person, but how much happiness can I expect to find from that? Wouldn't my suffering now, alone, be just as bad as the suffering from abuse? And wouldn't a sexual relationship without love be as empty as my life with my hand is now? It would be for me.

Not everyone feels this way, and maybe I have set my standards too high, but I can't accept less. It's not at all pleasant to live as I do now, and I would find peace in seeing my life end any time now, but I can't have any pleasure from life unless I have real friends and true love. What the hell is life worth living for without those things? Can you gain happiness from money, fame, or power? Maybe some people can, but I can't. I need real love and affection, and that can only come from real friends and real lovers, not just someone who wants to use the terms "friends" and "lovers" without having any idea what they mean or caring to try.

I have said it before in this Journal. I would rather die with my values and dreams intact but unfulfilled than I would care to live an empty life of lies and disrespect. Is it my fault that I'm alone, even with all of the positive qualities that people say I have? Maybe. But I can't compromise on the only thing that makes any difference in life.

Posted at 12:01 AM

May 30, 2001

I've been a bit better today. I didn't get up until 11 AM, but I hadn't gone to sleep until after 2 AM, so I guess that's not so bad. I haven't been happy or motivated today - in fact, I couldn't write at all when I tried to do some work on the story, and I couldn't even get myself to play Diablo II or some other game to try to relax. I just wasn't up for anything today. But even with that malaise, I still wasn't as depressed as yesterday, and that's a good thing.

I have, at a few different points today, found myself deciding to try and do what I can to take another chance. As cynical and pessimistic as I am about life in general (and love and friendship in specific), I know that part of the problem is my own fault. Brushing aside my concerns that I'm just not lovable or even likable, I know that my initial appearance in itself has grown into a barrier.

I'm not a hottie, by any stretch of the imagination, but I have fairly good looks - soft blond hair, grey eyes that change to blue or green with my mood, small slender features, broad shoulders, and a strong frame. I also look much younger than I really am, usually being considered to be in my twenties (not 34 like I am). Unfortunately, my depression has resulted in my overeating and drinking of way too much Pepsi (as it has all of my life). When I say overeating, I mean like eating enough for three (maybe even sometimes four) people in one meal. At my worst I will drink about 4-6 litres of Pepsi a day, everyday. I know this is all bad and doesn't help anything, but it's a compulsion just like alcoholics face - the Pepsi relaxes me and the food numbs me and replaces the ache in my chest that I feel when I'm lonely. Considering how much I eat and drink, it's actually amazing that I'm not worse off than I am. I weight about 228 pounds right now, pretty much as heavy as I ever have gotten. I don't look obese, but I look well overweight. At about 190 pounds I look normal but not fit. Realistically, I should be probably only about 155-170 pounds for my 5'9" height, but the least I've even weighed is 176 pounds in 1995 - I even weighed more in Junior High school when I first hit 5'9".

It's hard for me to lose weight, largely because it's difficult to maintain any diet in the face of my depression. I also don't exercise practically at all, but I hate exercising alone. If I had someone to bike with, play basketball with, ... whatever ... I'd be into it. But running or using exercise machines never lasts long for me because I can't stand the boredom. Regardless of all of that, I am once again going to try to lose weight. It's amusing in a way considering I've started and failed twice already in the short time since Spring semester finished, but I know I have to really try hard.

I realize clearly that even if someone were interested in me for a friend or more because of a conversation with me or whatever, my appearance would probably turn them off. And anyone just seeing me without any conversation or connection would just look past me or look away because I wouldn't be attractive to them. It's sad that appearance plays this big of a part in how people interact, but the sad truth is that it's something we are all conditioned to feel as a part of society - appearance is important. And I can't deny that I, myself, would probably not pay much attention to someone who was as out of shape as I am - my attitude might be different if I found a great personality and intellect, but that initial appearance would very possibly prevent me from ever finding out what an out-of-shape guy might actually have to offer. (Wow, does this make me seem shallow? Well, it feels that way).

Anyway, I'm going to try. I haven't lasted more that a day or two any of the last few times I've tried to lose weight, but I'm going to focus on the fact that no one is going to even give me a chance unless they see someone fairly attractive - and I know that I can be at least fairly attractive if I lose weight. It's just a lot of weight to have to lose - about 40 to 70 pounds, depending on how far I plan to go. Even just 40 pounds is a lot to lose, and I'm not very patient with this. Well, I'll try. At least that's a start.

Posted at 11:13 PM

May 29, 2001

It's only 11 PM, but I'm very tired. I woke up at 7 AM but I didn't get out of bed until after 3 PM. I kept thinking and crying and remembering, and it all just lead me nowhere. Eventually I decided to get up and see if I could feel any better. The answer ended up being "No." It has been a depressing day of feeling very alone. For the most part, I have been alone my whole life with no one who cared or kept close to me.

That was a large part of what I thought about this morning. You know how everyone talks about their inseparable friend (or friends) from childhood - the kids they did everything with, went everywhere with, and knew everything about? I never had one of those. You know how everyone talks about that adult/parent from their childhood that was everything to them and made them feel special, whether they were a parent, grandparent, sibling, or somebody else's parent or a special neighbor - someone that made time for them, helped them through their problems, and was really interested in everything about their life? I never had one of those either. What about that first love that everyone talks about, who made kissing and every other aspect of sex magical, who made the world stop when they were with them, and who promised them their undying love? My first love wasn't like that.

Do you know the memories everyone recollects about childhood vacations, trips to camp with friends, games with neighborhood kids, and childhood adventures that seemed epic at the time? I didn't have those either. What about the stories everyone tells about their little group in high school and all of the good times they had together? I never fit into any of those groups and was excluded from everything.

Part of all of this was because my parents lived in the country where there were practically no other kids around. Part of it was because my parents wouldn't let me leave my neighborhood (until I had my own car) to visit people. Part of it was because my father forced me to do almost constant tasks in the yard and garden. Part of it was fear that my father would be angry if I wasn't at home or doing what he wanted me to (and my father being angry meant yelling, hitting, and hurting). Part of it was fear of being rejected or hurt by people the same way I had been by my parents, my sister, and a few kids in my youth.

Part of it was feeling worthless. I was never able to measure up to what my parents expected. I was always told what I had done wrong and punished. My sister delighted in calling me names and telling me how ugly or stupid or uncoordinated or disliked I was. School wasn't much better because I was teased for wearing glasses or for having unfashionable clothes or because I was seen in some cases as a teacher's pet or because I was uncoordinated at baseball or I didn't know all of the rules for football or because I didn't distance myself from the kids everybody else thought was weird or stupid or ugly. Bullies picked on me somewhat, and I wouldn't fight back because I had become used to the abuse from my dad and had learned that it was far worse to fight back, even verbally. When bullies attacked me in school, I just took it, but this simply made me more of a target fro ridicule from everyone else. By middle school, I had had a growth spurt which made me taller than most of my classmates, and the bullying stopped physically but not verbally. Other things happened in middle school, and my life became a living hell of taunting and ridicule which extended into my treatment at home and continued well into high school.

Sometimes I wonder how I had any friends at all. And now I wonder why the people I had considered my friends really aren't friends at all, and I wonder why I can't find a boyfriend or anyone that could love me. Have I blinded myself so much to the past to have even considered that it would ever change? Am I this stupid to think that I could ever be seen by anyone as something other than worthless, ugly, and deserving of ridicule? How could I think that, when my childhood was in no way the way everyone else's was, that my adult life would be like everyone else's and allow me a companion, friends, and happiness? Am I really as stupid as everyone has always said? I that why I just don't get it?

I guess I must be stupid, because even after 34 years of this same emptiness, solitude, and lovelessness, I still live on and hope for things that I won't obviously ever be allowed to have. I'm just not stupid enough to have been blissfully ignorant of my own situation and think that my life was just waiting to get better.

Damn, I want to be that stupid. Stupid enough to not see the hell all around me. Stupid enough to think it might all get better. Stupid enough to still have some hope.

Posted at 11:32 PM

May 28, 2001

Why am I living? Why do I put up with this hell when I know it will never change for me? Why not end this constant misery and get the rest my tired soul so desperately cries for? Why exist when there is no hope at all?

There are no answers to these questions. No good reasons. I have nothing to live for, and all I know or feel on a daily basis is pain and sorrow and emptiness. No one can help me. I can't help myself either. I can't endure this any longer, but I don't know if I have the strength to do what needs to be done.

I wish it would just happen. I could burn in a fire here at the Arts Center or get hit by a car or be an innocent victim of a gang shooting or ... anything ... a disease, a virus, food poisoning, an aneurysm - I'm not picky. Something quick would be nice, but I'm not picky.

Just let it be over. Let it end. I can't bear it any more. But I'm going to have to do it myself, aren't I? Nothing can ever just happen for me. For that matter, nothing can ever just happen for me the first three times I try something - I always have to do everything multiple times to get it to work, even if I do everything perfectly right from the very start. Does that mean I'll have to try again and again? Isn't once hard enough?

I wish I could just go to sleep and never wake up. Never wake. Never dream. Never remember. Simply stop. Cease to exist. I just want it all to be gone: no past and no present to match having no future. I wish ... but my wishes never even come remotely close to coming true ...

I just can't take it. It hurts so much. It hurts and it won't go away. I can't make it go away. I can't.

Posted at 1:33 AM

May 27, 2001

I have a lot of things that have happened in the last two days that I should write about. But I just don't feel like it. Over the last three days, my anxiety and depression have increased and my motivation has decreased. I just can't write very much today, and that is depressing in itself.

The weather has been dreary and very cold for the past week (particularly the last few days). Hopefully a bit of sunshine will improve my disposition.

Posted at 11:41 PM

May 26, 2001

Head throbbing.
Vision blurred.
Eyes burning.
Pain. Fear. Sorrow. Empty. Alone. Useless. Ugly. Worthless. Stupid.

No more. No more, ever. End. Now. Please make it stop. End it. Nothing left. No hope. No choice. Nothing.
I can't. I just can't.
Help. Let me go. Help. End it. Help. Make it go away. Help. Forget.

No. Please, no.
Pain. Fear. Anguish. Always. Never love. No love. No life.
Dead already. Finish it. Now.
Alone. Alone. Alone.

Posted at 12:37 AM

May 25, 2001

I got angry earlier today while reading one of the gay romance stories that I follow on the web. The story I was reading at the time presented a character who was not only supposed to be attractive but drop-dead-gorgeous, such that all heads turned. He was (of course) terribly popular, turned everybody on (male and female), and was the loved by all of the adults (this was a high school story). This sort of fantasy guy is so stereotypical of every gay romance that appears on the web that I take it with a grain of salt anymore, but this particular character pissed me off because he knew he was good looking, used it to his advantage, and was so conceited and narcissistic that he thought he was the most beautiful guy around and that it was only natural that everyone liked him.

In my book, creating this sort of character should only continue if he has some freak accident that robs him of this beauty or if he suffers some extreme hardship. I'm sorry, but I'm sick of pretty people getting away with things simply because ... well, because they're nice to look at. They get jobs they aren't qualified for, they get recognition they don't deserve, and they get their pick of the dating pool even if they are completely incapable of loving anyone but themselves. I accept that gay romances on the web are largely an outlet for the fantasies of gay men around the world (and who doesn't want a hottie as part of their fantasy?), but I don't have any room for a conceited hottie - there's enough of that in the real world, thank you very much.

The big problem I have with this sort of portrayal in gay romances is that it just continues to set a stereotype that every gay youth sees as the only acceptable way to be. Let's face it, gay teens are finding out about what it means to be gay in large part through what they read on the web. It's bad enough that every magazine, tv show, and movie they see suggests that only the beautiful people get dates and live successfully, but even the home-grown writings of 'average guys' that write their stories and post them to the web seem to only have beautiful people. Have you noticed that every gay guy that appears in any of these stories is cute? Are the plain ones and ugly ones still in the closet because they aren't supposed to ruin the dating pool or what?

I don't really expect these stories to have plain or ugly people (although a rare story here and there does tackle the idea of loving relationships for gay guys who are just average or a bit below average), but I certainly don't expect everyone to be beautiful and I certainly don't want to see some conceited bastard have everything happen perfectly for him while the less-than-perfect people around him end up being losers.

Would I date a plain or ugly guy? Yes. I can't say that I have dated anyone that I (or anyone else) considered ugly, but I have dated guys that are average or plain. I honestly want what is inside of someone more than I want what is outside. I won't lie - my eye goes straight for the hottest guy in class, or in a restaurant, or whatever out of all of the people there, but they're just eye candy anyhow, so they don't count (well, not really, anyhow). If I found someone that I loved and who loved me but they weren't a hottie, I don't think it would make any difference - they could be a soulmate whether they were hot or not.

I won't turn down a hot guy, but then again that doesn't seem to be a pressing problem at the moment.

Posted at 12:20 AM

May 24, 2001

I got out of bed before noon today ... not much before noon, but hell, at least I finally got up. I was awake most of the morning and thinking about something that has really been bothering me a lot - losing people that seem to care about me. From as early as I can remember, people that I've grown to love leave me and the people that stay around use me. I've been breaking away from the people that try to use me, but that has just left me completely alone.

I remember from an early age that people I loved seemed to inevitably move, get sent to military school, die, or show themselves to not have any desire to reciprocate my love but rather to use my love to their own ends instead. I've never understood why I lose everyone I care about and find myself surrounded by users - it just doesn't seem right. This is one of the big things that has been bothering me about my conversation with Erik, seeing this unfair but undeniable dynamic inevitable repeating itself no matter what I do to avoid it. It just doesn't seem believable that there is no way around this weird little curse. There has to be a way to find someone that I love, have them love me too (even if just as a friend), have them not die or move away from me, and have them be a true friend ... not some manipulative, selfish user. I actually find myself starting to get angry at the whole situation because it seems so wrong, but the anger fades into sadness every time. I just don't understand why it always happens this way.

I know life isn't fair. Believe me, I know this. But it just doesn't seem logical that it must always turn out this way. Am I really this unlucky? Is my whole life just wave after wave of bad karma to make up for bad deeds in some previous life? This is just too fucked up.

I don't ask for a lot. All I want is one person. Just one person to love and be loved by. One person to share everything with. Everyone else could hate me, just as long as I had one person who I could rely upon and care for. I don't think this is selfish. I don't think I'm unfair. I'm not a bad person. I don't hurt people. I try to be nice to everyone. I try to do the right thing. But it doesn't really matter, does it?

I just feel lost and alone. And I don't understand. I just don't understand.

Posted at 11:58 PM

May 23, 2001

This past Friday I went out to dinner with Erik, my old friend/fellow college senator/partner in crime/room mate/business associate/unrequited love interest. The discussion was emotional enough that I cried in front of Erik ... in public - this is something that just doesn't happen with me. But it was a difficult discussion. I couldn't write about it that night or the next. In fact, I kept myself as busy as possible to try to avoid thinking about it for a few days afterward. Every time I started to remember that evening in my mind I got upset, and trying to make sense of everything we talked about was impossible. I haven't really allowed myself to think about it still, but I'm a little less emotional now, and a few things from the last two days have made me realize that I need to think about this a little bit.

It's odd, in a way, to have seen Erik at all, let alone have a deep conversation about our lives. After being as close as we were (and as close as I got emotionally) for so many years, we have been almost equally as distant from each other for the past few years. Not having Erik in my life has always left me with an emptiness, but even so, I always fear seeing him on his rare visits because it makes me miss his company all over again, making that sense of emptiness even worse. This visit was no different. He still doesn't understand how much he has meant to me (and still means to me). He was concerned about how sad I've been, and he did at least make an attempt to understand - this is what I expect from a real friend, and Erik is the only person to doggedly push me to talk about it (or, for that matter, to ask at all about what's been depressing me, for the most part). But even though he did come through as a friend, only having a conversation for a little over two hours (and knowing that I probably won't see or hear from him again for a year or more) wasn't enough to help me work things out in my mind ... wasn't enough to help me find some answers ... wasn't enough to help me come up with some idea of how to move forward with my life that doesn't seem completely pointless.

He did try. Erik gave me all of the stock suggestions: "Just have a good attitude and you'll be happier," and "Just go up to people and make friends," and "You have to lower your expectations," and "Just go out with people from the clubs because sex might lead to other things," and "You're pushing people away because nobody wants to be around someone that's sad." Like I said, he tried, but even Erik, the consummate salesman, couldn't sell these ideas. He obviously knew that it wasn't all that simple, and he also realized that I don't have his natural ability to dazzle people and make them want to know you. He has a gift - I don't.

He made a distinct point of telling me that he didn't like 'the new Paul' as much as 'the old Paul,' and while I couldn't blame him, I pointed out that 'the old Paul,' even at his most sociable and most attractive, still didn't have any lasting loving relationships (over a couple of months) or friendships - in fact, I pointed out that most of my friends and even a couple of boyfriends were people that were already friends of Erik's and he had introduced us to each other. He criticized me for not maintaining my friendships with 'the gang' in the area, but I pointed out how they hadn't made any contact in over a year (or next to no contact), even though they knew that I was facing some serious depression. Meanwhile, they had no problem visiting and supporting Jeff during his mental problems over the past year. Erik couldn't disagree with me on this either, outright asking me why I didn't simply "write them off." I couldn't explain to him that they are all I have to show for the last 16 years. I couldn't find the words and I wouldn't be able to make him understand. I couldn't explain how I knew I was the problem, not them - that I just wasn't worth loving or spending time with and that they were just being nice to have spent time with me at all. I wouldn't be able to make him accept that. I couldn't explain how terrified I was (and am ... and have always been for as long as I remember) about being alone with no one ever caring about me ... or for me. I wouldn't be able to explain something that he's never felt in his whole life. And this was part of the problem of our short discussion.

There was simply no way for me to express things to him or get him to truly understand. He tried. And I really feel good that he did try. But it wasn't enough. I can't be something I'm not. I can't just gain charisma when I've never had it. I can't just count on good luck when I've never had it before. I can't change the world or what's acceptable, even if some aspects of society are clearly wrong. I wish I could. I would put any amount of effort into it if I felt I could make any of those things happen. But I have tried to change those things: myself, the way I'm perceived by others, and the way the world works - all to no avail.

In a lot of ways, my conversation with Erik was incredibly depressing because it became even more clear to me that it wasn't just me - not just me being pessimistic or too timid to take a chance. The fact that Erik couldn't disagree with me, fault my logic, or tell me something I wasn't trying to do to make things better all just reinforced the fact that it really is pretty hopeless. And in a way, I really didn't want to find out that I was right. Not at all.

Last night, seeing Nathan brought back some of this. Part of me wanted to try to gain a real friendship with Nathan, even while I feared the possible rejection or betrayal that are very evident, not only potentially but in the actions and words Nathan has directed towards me in the last few months. I want a friend, but at what price?

Yesterday, I met a couple of new people while I was visiting in the office, and I really enjoyed talking and laughing with them. Today I met a few other people, including Joné's gay roommate, Brian (who is pretty cute and has an incredible handshake (firm and warm and just oozing with suggestions of security and support)). But the same hope and fear is there - hope for friendships (and maybe more in Brian's case) but fear of rejection or betrayal and ultimately the possibility of just ending up all alone even if I try really hard to meet new people. And I just keep asking myself why any of these people would be interested in being my friend or lover anyway. What do I have to offer, anyhow? If I don't really like myself; why should I expect that anyone else will like me?

I still don't know what my conversation with Erik accomplished. I'm as confused and afraid as ever, and now I wonder more than ever if there just isn't any hope after all. I don't want to give up hope. But what can I hope for any more? All I want is happiness ... but I can't be happy alone. And I can't force people to like me ... or love me. I need someone to try. But I don't know if anyone will. And it's scary to not know what to do or how to do it. I don't know what I can do to make real friends of find a loving boyfriend. I just don't know how. And it's scary.

Posted at 12:06 AM

May 22, 2001

Brendan Davis has now left the building ... and now I can sleep in my own bed again.

Brendan took me and his mother out to breakfast this morning, then I drove them up to Detroit Metro Airport where Brendan caught his flight to Washington, D.C. From there, I brought Lori, Brendan's mom, back to the Collingwood Arts Center. Before I even got back to my room, I ran into Lee (one of the board members of the Arts Center in charge of the office), and I ended up talking to Lee for almost two hours.

I also met another board member tonight, Denny (one of two gay board members and a very nice guy). After leaving Lee and Denny, I checked my mail and found that my grades had come already. I got all A's - quite a pleasant surprise!

After that, I grabbed a quick meal, checked my e.mail, washed some laundry, and took care of a few things around the studios. I then ran into Nathan (who has been essentially invisible for the last few weeks). I chatted with Nathan for a while, then ran into Christiana. We all chatted for a while, then Christiana and Nathan both left. I put away my clean laundry, and here I am typing a short Journal entry.

Maybe this all seems pretty commonplace, but it's not. I have spent so long without anyone around to talk to and without the pleasure of the accomplishment of simple tasks, that I have been getting lonely and sad simply because of that complete isolation from something as simple as a little casual chat or having clean bedding to enjoy. This break from school may well turn out to be a good thing. I hope so.

Posted at 11:51 PM

May 21, 2001

I made some calls about apartments in Bowling Green today, set up a couple of appointments, and looked at a few places. One newly remodeled loft apartment in downtown BG looks really great, but might be a little small. There are also some people interested in it that might beat me to it. I'll probably find out for sure if I can get it or not in a couple of days.

After spending some time talking to Christiana and a couple of people in the office here at the Arts Center, I spent the evening with Wallace, his wife Jeanne, Jeff Bassett, and Shannon watching "Shrek" at the theater. The animation was fantastic and the show was very fun and amusing. I haven't seen a good movie in a while, so this was a treat. I also got to chat a bit with these people I haven't seen in a long time. In fact, I even got to see Wallace and Jeanne's house for the first time (even though they've owned it for over a year now). I felt weird being around them in some ways, but it was still nice to share things with other people and have some intelligent conversation. Maybe more of this will be in store for the summer.

Tomorrow, Brendan wants me to drive him to Detroit for his plane to Washington, D.C. (he has a week of business before returning to Berlin). That, plus cleaning up the studios and doing laundry, will take up pretty much most of the day. After that, I need to dive into getting things ready for the upcoming garage sale. Oh, how will I ever live through the excitement.

Posted at 1:23 AM

May 20, 2001

Jeff had me go over to his place to fix his computer problems today. Just before I worked on the computer, Jeff had me walk the dogs with him through the park, and he asked me about school, money, and some of my political views. I gave him answers to his questions, but he ended up stopping me and changing the subjects at different points. I realized that, even though I was just telling things the way they are (honestly, simply, and to the point), I was bringing Jeff down and he didn't really want to listen to things unless they were enjoyable to hear. I'm not surprised - I've seen this same reaction from all of the 'gang' before - but it was still upsetting to realize yet again that my 'friends' don't even want to hear about the things I struggle with every day.

Is it wrong to expect a true friend to want to share everything with you, both good and bad, and to want to help you solve your problems and be happy? I just don't understand. The greatest pleasure I used to ever get from friendships was consoling a friend in need and helping them solve their problems. I really felt that I had purpose at those points in time, maybe even the only times that I ever felt like I was doing something necessary or important in my life. I miss that. But I miss not receiving it, too. Maybe I expect too much of a friend. But I don't think so.

Posted at 12:26 AM

May 19, 2001

I'm still not ready to talk about last night.

I woke up at 6:30, didn't get out of bed 'til 11, and cried on and off into the early afternoon, even in the shower. I thought a lot about my talk with Erik, but I didn't really sort anything out. I ended up getting so upset that I just spent the day reading with the tv on in the background so that my mind was completely preoccupied with other things.

Jeff, who was supposed to call me today to make arrangements with me to fix his computer, never called. Christiana, who had yesterday and today off from work, never called either. And Brendan, who is pretty much living in my bedroom studio while he visits, has not shown his face since I saw him at the dinner last night. Maybe I'm just being paranoid again, but I feel intentionally abandoned.

This isn't what I expected from the weekend. But I don't feel like writing or even playing Diablo II right now. I just feel sort of lost. I'm not sure what I want. I just don't feel very good.

Posted at 10:42 PM

May 18, 2001

I went to the dinner with Erik tonight. Erik and I actually left to talk alone, and it was a very difficult discussion. I actually cried in front of Erik. I don't cry in front of other people - I've never been able to, ever since my dad used to beat me for crying. I always thought I had just been conditioned to hold it back ... but I couldn't stop ...

I need to think about this all some more. Maybe tomorrow I'll write about it, but I just can't right now. I don't even know if there's anything exactly to think about ... I just can't hold my emotions down to think clearly right now, so it is just going to have to wait.

Posted at 11:13 PM

May 17, 2001

I talked to Gabriel again today. He seemed a bit distant, but at least he isn't pissed off that I got cut off from him yesterday. I don't know what sort of things to talk about. In fact, today I felt like I don't really feel comfortable talking to people at all anymore. I feel almost afraid of what they think of me, and I just get really nervous.

I got to talk to Brendan briefly today when he stopped by to use my computer to check his e.mail, both this morning and this evening. Part of me is a bit upset that he only seems to have stopped by because of the e.mail, but I guess I should just be happy to have a chance to see him at all while he's in the country. Jeff was with him when he came in this evening. Jeff only stayed a bit but wanted to make tentative arrangements for me to go to his house this weekend and fix some problems on his computer. Again, I felt sort of used (I mean, I honestly do only hear from people when they need something from me, not just to chat or tell me good news or check up on me - very few people do that), but I berated myself again for not appreciating the fact that this was only the second time in a year that I'd seen Jeff.

Shortly after Brendan and Jeff arrived, I got a phone call from Erik (... this is all very strange to have contact in the same day from these people I haven't heard from in a year ...). Erik was on his way to Toledo for his sister's wedding and wants to get all of the old "gang" together tomorrow night for dinner so he can ... I don't know, so he can feel connected still or something ... he only comes into town once every year or two, doesn't call or e.mail (or respond to calls or e.mails), but he expects everyone to drop everything and treat him like the Wizard of Oz. 'Well, buddy, where's my heart?'

I don't want to go to this dinner. I have a very bad feeling about it, and I have to admit that I am actually very afraid of being around these people I once considered my closest friends and now feel that I don't know at all. I've had too many instances in the last year and a half where I have gone into just such a situation as this and seen the reality of my connections to people revealed for what they really are, not what I always forced myself to believe that they were. I have already had some distasteful realizations about my relationships to all of these people, and I really don't want any more. Without this last remnant of the illusion of a close friendship with this group of people, everything about the last 16 years of my life becomes revealed as fruitless, stupid, and wasteful, leaving me with less than nothing to show for my life. I don't know if I should go. If I don't, I am giving up my last sense of connection to these people. But if I go, I might realize that I never really had any connection with them to begin with. I'm not sure I can emotionally stand to be in either situation.

Erik asked me, during his brief call, if we were okay - if we were still friends. I still don't know how to answer that. I hurt so much from all of the rejection I have faced from Erik over the years, and even thinking about him just hurts. Part of me still really loves him and would do anything for him, but part of me hates him for using me and leaving me all alone - and the place where that love and hate meets is the hole at the core of my being where I feel so empty. It's not just him creating that hole, it's a whole fucked up mess of people and issues, but he's tangibly here before me right now, and I can't avoid seeing him and feeling all of these emotions ... all of this pain.

I don't want any of this. Why did things have to be this way? Why does everything have to hurt so much? Why can't I just die now and not have to feel any of this? I just wanted to be happy. That's all I ever asked for. Why was that too much?

Posted at 12:20 AM

May 16, 2001

Today has been quite nice.

I got my car back (even though I had to fork over $300 for it). I played Diablo II for about 8 hours (even though I died a couple of times). I even got a chance to chat briefly with Gabriel, also known as TH380Y (even though my damn internet provider disconnected me again).

The chat with Gabriel was fun. I have enjoyed his poetry and stories, and I've been impressed with his ability to cope with some serious problems that resulted from his coming out. Chatting with him was cool because I could see that he is very much like what I expected, and I really appreciate people that are real - not assuming some fake image. I am pretty pissed off at getting disconnected, though. It's bad enough when I get disconnected in the middle of loading a page or downloading a file, but this was right in the middle of a live chat! I've been putting off changing to a new service until I move, so that I can just get a cable-modem connection and not have to worry about the connect/disconnect crap that comes with a standard modem line. I hate these problems, but I can't afford to install cable here and then install it again in a couple of months at a new apartment. Grrr.... I'll just have to bear it for now ...

Anyhow, I hope Gabriel isn't mad at me. When I was able to get reconnected and back into AIM, he was already offline. For all I know, he thinks I just dissed him. ... Just my luck ...

Well, I sent him an e.mail. Hopefully he'll be willing to chat again soon. We'll see. It was just nice to have someone interesting to talk to. Anymore it seems like the only person I talk to is Christiana, and I don't get to talk to her very often as it is. Damn, do I ever need a roommate (well, a boyfriend would be better, but the boyfriend just doesn't seem to be materializing). I need someone to talk to ... is that so strange?

Posted at 2:32 AM

May 15, 2001

The site update is done - at least for now. I still think I can add a good deal more to the Bio and Links sections, but I got things a lot more to my liking. I'll add more as it seems appropriate. Even with as little change as I've made, I really like the site a lot better now.

I also found out about my car today. The plug wires were carbonized, causing the spark plugs to arc across the porcelain and ground out. So I needed new plug wires and new plugs. It kind of burns me since they put in new plugs and points in December and didn't take care of this, but at least it's fixed (although, sadly, for a hefty fee). They finished working on it today. Hopefully I can get a ride out to the dealership tomorrow to pick it up.

I've also decided in the last few days that I am definitely going to move to Bowling Green right before school starts. With the rising costs of gas and the headaches I'm getting here at the Arts Center, it will be well worth my while. Unfortunately, I don't think I can manage for long financially, but I'll face the same financial problems if I stay here since my gas costs for the car will increase so much. Hopefully by the end of the summer I can find a nice apartment for a reasonable price and work out whatever other financial details I need to.

For the next couple of days I want to just relax, sketch out some formal ideas for the story, and play lots of Diablo II. Hopefully I'll also get to spend some time with Brendan, but I know how this works from past visits from Brendan - he'll spend time visiting his friends and I'll just see him when he comes in late at night to wind down before going to bed. I guess I should be pleased that I get to spend any time with him at all, but I feel like I 'just happen to be there' and wouldn't see him if he wasn't sleeping here. I don't know. I'm probably being ridiculous.

The real downside of Brendan's visit is sleeping on this damn sleeper sofa-bed. As bad as my sore neck was before, it's much worse now, stretching down half of my back. Hopefully it will stop raining some this week so I can walk some of this stiffness out of my back at Wildwood MetroPark. I'm looking forward to that.

Posted at 9:52 PM

May 14, 2001

I completed a few more updates to the site, including adding another poem: The Great Race. I have a few more things to update to my satisfaction, but that should all get finished tomorrow.

Today I took the car in for service, had an early dinner with Christiana, went to a poetry reading for about three and a half hours, and came back to the Arts Center to find Brendan having arrived from Berlin for his week's stay. He will be staying here in my bedroom while I take the sleeper sofa, and hopefully we will spend some time together around his visits to all of the people he hopes to see.

The poetry reading was much better than I had expected, and the poets range in age from young teens to people in their sixties. Everyone got along great, even with the age difference. The poetry managed to transcend ages. It was great to see.

A few things happened today to make me feel very lonely. It's strange, considering I was surrounded by people all day, but a certain touch or someone I might see and long for or a moment of feeling that I was present but not part of the group - all of these things just made me feel what I was missing that I really want and need. Maybe I should just get over it and stop whining, but I don't want to stop hoping that I can be really happy, and having the kind of connection that I feel is missing is the only way for me to really ever feel happy.

For now it's just best to hope. In the end, that's all I've really got.

Posted at 12:00 AM

May 13, 2001

The modifications to the website have begun. Around lazily watching tv and visiting with Christiana today, I have been modifying various layout and structural aspects of the Dreamworld site. I have also added three new poems: Collected Opposites, I'm the One, and Please. I expect to finish the site modifications tomorrow and possibly complete the expansion to the Bio and Links sections. I toyed with a few vast departures from the old format including color changes, changing the Main page image, and restructuring the basic layout ideas, but nothing appealed to me as I played around with things.

I will also be taking my car in for repairs tomorrow, and Brendan will be arriving by plane from Berlin for a week-long visit. This week will probably be a bust for working on the story since I will want to spend time with Brendan and I'll have a few last tasks to complete with the car and site cleanup, but I still expect to get some ideas focused a bit more before the end of the week so that I can begin writing in earnest next week (around getting things ready for the Garage Sale at Garman's place).

I'll have more done tomorrow with the site, so feel free to surf around and see the changes.

Posted at 12:21 AM

May 12, 2001

Happy Fucking Mothers' Day.

Yes, I am a day early officially, but my mother and grandma came to visit today. I won't visit them anymore since I refuse to have any contact with my father anymore (and he, of course, lives with my mother in my grandma's house (another story entirely)), ... so, anyway, because of this I won't visit them in Sandusky. It wasn't that they came to have a Mothers' Day visit - this is the first they have been able to visit that they haven't been: a) visiting my sister and her kids (they visit on average about once every three to four weeks (as opposed to visiting me once every three months or so (although this is a vast increase over the once every year or two of the past)), b) vacationing (in Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina, Kentucky, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania (in about three separate vacations) (they visited in March after their vacation in Hawaii and a few visits to my sister's)), or c) doing the important things that old people do during retirement that might keep them from visiting their only son (you know, like golfing, sewing, watching movies, poking around the flowerbeds, watching grass grow, etc.).

It has gotten to be that, as much as I resent my mother coming to visit so rarely, I would still rather she didn't come at all. I end up, after each visit, dwelling on something (or more usually some things) that she said that aggravated or depressed me (or both). I have given up trying to understand whether these things are intentionally said or not. As much as it seems that she wouldn't be so outwardly malicious as to do it intentionally, to do so unintentionally just means that she is so stupid, forgetful, and revisionist that it seems difficult to believe. To explain the complicated history of my relationships with my family is not possible without a few novel-length books, so let's just consider the comments from today that bothered me (and by the way, today was actually a pretty good day in that she offended me less often and less distinctly than usual).

The first comment, with barely a 'Hello' said among us, from my mother was, "Did you color your hair or use some of that sun-lightening stuff on it?" Well, I had my hair colored (for the first time) well over two months ago and it has grown out and faded back to its normal color (in fact, I got it cut today and the new hair at the base is the same color as the longest portions). Anyhow, I hate it when she does this because my hair has always been blond (although lighter when I was little), yet she asks me every time she sees me if I have dyed it or used some bleaching technique. Today was, in fact, the sixth time in the last six visits (that's over a year and a half's visits) that she has asked me this same question with the same answer - 'No, it's naturally this color. The sun lightens it a bit." My father has the same color hair that I do, yet she never questions whether he lightens it. My sister's hair is a bit darker, like a very dirty blond or a very, very light brown, but her hair has always been darker than mine my whole life. My mother, by the way, has died her hair from dark brown to a very orangy red for the last twenty years.

Since we're on hair, that was another comment - repeated a few times during the visit. "Oh, your hair is a different style. I like it. It's much better than your last style." Omitted this time was the line that follows of, "I'm glad you changed it, that last cut looked horrible on you." This also is a regular line for my mother that occurs every time I get my hair cut. She claims to like it when I am wearing that style yet tells me she always hated it once I have changed to something new. This, dear readers, is called hypocrisy. While I loath hypocrisy, I have come to expect it from my parents like I expect the sun to rise in the morning. The funny thing is that they don't see it as hypocrisy - there is something weird going on such that they partially revise history in their own minds so that it is more pleasant to them and partially that they simply say whatever will be the least supportive while least offensive comment they can come up with about anything I do. For this I will use an example. When I get okay grades (in high school, college, whatever), I am told that I should buckle down and try harder and that I'm wasting my time screwing around with my friends and that I don't realize how important my education is (which is ironic considering my father barely got a high school diploma and my mother dropped out of college during her first semester to get married and pop out a baby). Alternatively, when I get good grades (such as getting all A's for the semester at college), I am told that I'm going to burn myself out, I need to relax and enjoy myself more. Grades aren't that important, and I don't have to push myself to get straight A's. Yes, again this is hypocrisy, but it is more than that - it is commentary designed to always find fault and never have anything be accepted as good or successful. It is a way of voicing their observations of my life in such a way as to always tell me I can never be good enough for anything. Ah, parents ... *?&^%"/!!!

Well, let's move ahead past the hair issues. How about lunch? We're at the Real Seafood Company and my mother suggests I would like some dish with scallops. I hate scallops. I have always hated scallops. My mother never remembers what food I dislike, but she has an uncanny ability to remember what foods my father and sister don't care for. Case in point - she's talking about a fairly recent visit to my Uncle Tinker's house in South Carolina where they had venison (Tinker hunts with a power bow and, between the kills and his farm, feeds his family from his own hands). Tinker sent venison with the 'rents for them to have at home, and my mother says she thought about bringing me some. I am a partial vegetarian. I eat poultry and fish, but no red meat. Basically, I won't eat mammals, and the reason is because I don't feel it is right to eat intelligent creatures that are in the same genus as man. I have been a partial vegetarian for about eight years, yet I have to repeat this time and again to every member of the family. When I used to go to visit for all holidays, they had forgotten or asked, "When did you stop eating meat? That's crazy!" Even now, after years of pointing it out, they forget. My grandmother even forgot. After I reminded my mother that I wouldn't want any venison since I don't eat red meat, I had to explain to my grandma why I wouldn't eat venison. This is just frustrating. My mother can remember everything that my sister can eat from a diet that she was on for three weeks, but she can't remember a broad thing like vegetarianism that has been present for eight years. Go figure ...

Maybe she just innocently forgot, you know, just some momentary lapse of memory. Well, how about her forgetting what degrees I was pursuing at college? She thought I was just pursuing an English degree. Mind you, I have not only told her that I am pursuing a BA in English Literature and a BFA in Creative Writing, but I have showed her (on multiple occasions) complete lists of the courses required within each degree. My sister took a management training course as a required part of her job as an executive at DuPont a few months ago, and my mother could tell you every aspect of this (probably useless) one week training session, yet she can't even remember what completely consumes every aspect of my life for the past couple of years. But maybe it's just because my pursuits aren't "important." My degrees "aren't useful" and "won't make me any money" and "are a waste of time" according to my parents. Grrrr.....

How about the 'gift' my mother brought me from Hawaii? It's an owl carved out of a native Hawaiian tree. Let me background this item. My sister, following the death of my great grandmother, was given my great grandma's entire figurine collection which was mostly elephants of various sizes, shapes, styles, and materials. My parents decided to add to her collection each year at birthdays, holidays, and after vacations (sometimes giving her three or four new elephants a year). My sister loved the elephants and liked getting new ones. She had specifically wanted the original collection because of the elephants. My parents, feeling that they should get me an equal gift at any given time, decided they should get figurines but of a different animal. With no particular reason, they chose owls. Why? Who the fuck knows! Anyhow, I have more fucking owls than you could ever imagine. Owls made of coal, porcelain, marble, brass, shells, jade, onyx, ceramic, glass, pewter, and a variety of woods; owl planters, owl mugs, owl towels, owl bottle corks, owl paperweights, owl candles, owl spoon holders, owl wall hangings, owl magnets, etc. If it has a fucking owl on it, I've undoubtedly got it. My sister made it clear to the family that she had limited space for any more elephants a few years ago, so the figurines tapered off. Three years ago I moved into the Collingwood Arts Center (where I live now) and much less space than I was used to living in. I made it clear that I had no room for any more owls or anything else in the way of knik-knaks or actually anything without a practical purpose. Space was at too much of a premium, and as it was I was selling all sorts of my possessions to just get everything I had to fit. The owl collection was partially put on bookshelves, partially kept boxed up in storage, and even partially sold, yet the idiots continue to buy more. As if that weren't bad enough, they bought the same type of owl in the same type of wood that they gave me from a previous trip to Hawaii. So now I have two. Lucky me.

Some things she says are fairly innocent, based on the fact that she says things without knowing how hurtful they are. I am not out to my family. I'm out to everyone else, but the family is very prejudiced against anyone that isn't from the WASP mold and they don't hold back from making mean jokes, laughing at the suffering of minorities, speaking out against affirmative action, using gross stereotypes, etc. I spent some time trying to turn them around and expose them to the injustices faced by minorities, particularly gays, but they don't listen. For a variety of reasons I have decided it's not worth my effort to come out to them, but I have never denied it and I have made it clear that I support gay rights (I talk about gay items in the news, I spoke about going to the March on Washington, etc.) and I have no hesitation talking about my gay friends or the gay bars we go to. I have also made it clear that I loathe Cracker Barrel, Miller Beer, and a few other companies because of their vocal anti-gay employment policies. So it is frustrating for my mother to tell me about the new Cracker Barrel being built in Sandusky (or the new Hooters (as if I care ... and what kind of a woman is she to talk like she's excited to have a Hooters in her town)). Of course there are the comments about how this woman or that woman said "how handsome" they thought I was and "when I get married ..." or "when will I be giving them some grandkids" or "your cousin got married, you know" (said with an emphasis that says 'When are you getting married?'). Fortunately today I got through without having to hear any sick jokes about gay people or some comment or story about "those" people. Sometimes I really have no idea why I even talk to these bigoted assholes.

Another mainstay of any conversation with my mother is that she can't remember my name. Now hold on, I know you're sure that I'm exaggerating, but hear me out. She doesn't forget it such that she has to ask, "What's your name again?" She just doesn't think of me as very important. It goes like this. Ever since I was young, I have always been the youngest of two children (and my sister has pretty much always been the favorite). Whenever my mother would call me in the house or start talking about me to someone, she would say, "Chr...Sonny" this or "Chrr..Sonny" that (oh yeah, my hated nickname is Sonny. Kie, 'their son.' Pretty original, aren't they? I have asked for most of my life not to be called this, but they never listen to me for anything else so why should this be an exception). Anyhow, I was always "Chr..Sonny" because my sister, Chris, always came to mind first. Now I'm sure you think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. This has been an annoyance I have faced for years. A few years ago, it got worse. With the addition of my nephew, Hunter, and then my niece, Christa Jade (CJ) (both of whom my mother adores), my mother would call for me or mention me as "Chrr...Hunter...Sonny" or "Hunter..Chrr..Sonny." Today she went even further with "Chrr..Hunter..Dan..Sonny" (Dan is my dad's nickname - his real name is Lowell Gene, and you're right...this nickname makes no sense). She does this to no one else. Just me. I seem to mean so little to her that it's hard to think of my name.

Anyhow, this Journal entry is getting long. Let's just say she made a few other choice comments (innocently or not), and I left bummed out again. She also made sure to throw out a bunch of guilt trips - that's her forte, so she would never waste an opportunity to suggest how terrible it is not to visit her or my father (... oh yeah, I want to spend time with the guy that abused me my whole life ...), and how horrible I am for not visiting my niece and nephew (... keep in mind that my sister and her husband together make about $200,000 a year, have a house in Maryland, a house in Florida, a timeshare on Marco Island, two cars and a van, and lots of investments - all of this compared to my $14000 a year from financial aid, more than half of which goes directly to tuition and fees ... and while I visited my sister in Maryland at least three times each year up until the last couple of years, my sister has visited me where I lived only once in the last 16 years, and that was during a visit to my parents (and she really only came to Toledo that time because my nephew demanded to go to a Chuck E. Cheese)). So anyhow, I'm a terrible person. Yeah, what else is new ...

Am I bitter? Well,...maybe. I'm just tired of it. It's not like I don't have enough issues of depression and inadequacy that come out of my own mind, but I have to get help from my mother. Oh joy.

Well, at least I won't probably see her for another few months. I'll just have to put up with her comments by phone. Fortunately those conversations are usually much shorter, so she has less opportunity to deeply upset me than she does with a face to face visit.

Ah, mothers. Can't live with 'em ...ugghh ... can't live with 'em ...

How's that go?

Posted at 10:32 PM

May 11, 2001

I've felt very empty today. I got a lot of things done, and I am finally in a clean, comfortable environment (which is nice), but I just kept feeling alone and ... well ... I guess like part of me was just missing.

I've been thinking a lot about Simon lately, and I've thought about a bunch of old boyfriends and old friends, and they're all gone. It's like there's nobody left that has held all of my love, and all of that love that I gave them is gone from me without them around. I feel like I'll never get that back, and I wonder if there will ever be anyone else to give my love to.

I've been really affected by a new Billy Gilman song, "My Time On Earth." Ever since I first saw Billy Gilman while chanell-surfing last summer and coming across his video for "One Voice" I have been hooked. I did some research to find out who he was, found his cd-single of "One Voice," and waited for his first album to come out. I bought it in Tower Records the day it came out. Mind you, I am very much against Country music as a rule, but Billy just struck a place deep in my soul through his music - pretty amazing for a kid that was only twelve when he recorded that album.

Well, Billy's second album, "Dare to Dream," came out May 8th. I had exams, but I went to Finder's Records in BG and bought it on the morning of the 9th after turning in my final papers. I'm still warming up to a lot of the album (it has a much more Country flavor than the last one, and it is a bit of a turnoff), but a couple of songs have struck a tone in my soul again. Mostly, "My Time on Earth" has really made me think.

Last summer, after trying to catch the "One Voice" video every chance I could get and waiting for the album to come out, I told Karl (who I was staying with at the time) that the song was 'haunting' me. I meant it. That song did - and still does - make me cry, not just because of the message but because the way Billy sang it and the hopeful innocence that he seemed to honestly invest in the words just touched me as being the embodiment of who I was looking for - not Billy, specifically, but someone with that hopeful innocence, beauty, and happiness with the world. Billy just made me feel part of me reaching out for that type of person ...

Anyhow, this song is beginning to 'haunt' me as well, but in a different way. I feel like it's telling me all of the things I've always believed but given them an urgency, like I have no more time to wait ... that I have to find a way to make things happen. Anyhow, see what you think. Here are the lyrics.

My time on Earth, each breath I breath,
Is one more chance to share my love with those like me,
Who come and go like shooting stars -
The truth be known, that's all we are.

The more that I know, the more I can see
The older I grow, the more I believe
It's not the length of the life or the depth of the grave,
In the end we'll be measured by the love that we gave.

So my time on Earth, on faith depends
On all that happens in the space from end to end.
Depends on me and the choices I face -
For better or worse they're mine to make.

The more that I know, the more I can see
The older I grow, the more I believe
It's not the length of the life or the depth of the grave,
In the end we'll be measured by the love that we gave.

So my time on Earth will be well spent
And when I leave this world, I'll leave with no regrets.
I'll live and love for all it's worth
Til I live out my time on Earth.

Til I live out my time on Earth.

Well, it may not seem like much to you, but it does to me. I don't have that kind of hope that he carries in this song - I need it, I want it, but I don't have it. And I don't feel at all like my time on Earth has been well spent. Not at all.

Haunting.

Posted at 11:32 PM

May 10, 2001

Hurrah, the headache is mostly gone. I have been rather sluggish today, but that is almost to be expected.

I had planned a whole list of things to do: laundry, cleaning all of my rooms, washing the car, etc., etc. I got some things done, but I realized that as much as I want these things done and out of the way, I have no real reason to rush. I should just relax, enjoy, and try to get some measure of satisfaction from the day. So after doing laundry, running a few errands, and caring for all of my plants, I decided to just relax a bit, visit Christiana (we had dinner together and talked for a while), and look over my new MacAddict CD (MacAddict is a monthly magazine for Apple Macintosh enthusiasts with an accompanying CD packed with software). All in all, I feel pretty good about today.

Tomorrow I will get other tasks done, but I will again try to relax a bit. There's no sense in driving myself to exhaustion as I would normally do. Settling comfortably into life, as much as I don't like what life has to offer, is pretty much my only option. Besides, I have plenty of time to burn myself out while engaged in mindless tasks, so there's no reason to do it to myself.

Posted at 11:33 PM

May 9, 2001

Ahhh!!! Pain!!!

I have a raging headache. I had my last intake of caffeine at about 3PM yesterday, and withdrawal is already hitting hard.

I decided to cut out caffeine and processed sugars and sort of get a diet thing going to lose weight and get more healthy. With school over and summer here, I have less stress and more control over my time, activities, and rest. The caffeine that I needed to keep myself alert for school is no longer necessary, so now it's time to drop it. The only good way is to go cold-turkey, but it really sucks.

I feel like my eyes are going to pop out from the pressure in my head. Ugghh...

I hope this goes away soon.

Posted at 11:10 PM

May 8, 2001

At last, it is almost complete.

I spent much of yesterday and much of today working with Renee on a joint paper we had to write for our British Literature class. The paper stands as a grade for a final paper and a final exam, so it is worth a lot. We managed to get things just about complete today. I spent some further time on the paper by myself tonight, and I'll go over things one more time tomorrow before printing the paper out and turning it in early in the morning.

My other paper is also nearly complete. This paper also is a merged final paper and final exam, constituting a lot of the grade (both papers count for about 30% of the final grade in each class). After the above mentioned paper is turned in, I'll spend some more time in the computer lab wrapping things up on this other paper and then print it out and see if I can turn it in early (it's due first thing tomorrow morning). Once that paper is turned in, I'm done. Spring semester will be complete.

I'm looking forward to a whole bunch of things I have been putting off so that school stuff would come first. Soon I can get those things done and then spend time writing, which I feel has been delayed far too long.

First, however, I may just spend a few days being lazy. All of these papers in the last few weeks has been a big drain, and I really want to savor the freedom to have no obligations, even if just for a little while.

Posted at 11:44 PM

May 7, 2001

I'm thinking seriously of moving again. There are very few places I could afford, and I'm not sure that I could get a place without a job reference, but I hate the Arts Center and just want to get the hell out of here.

I still have a couple more days of writing to get through before school is taken care of, and there are a bunch of things I want to do after that which I've been putting off for a while, but I will look through my options soon, you can be sure. I have no idea whether I can find anything, but I think I need to at least try.

Staying here will just eventually drive me insane, and the people that are fucking with me will eventually piss me off enough that I will hurt them. I really don't want that, but I am so, so ready to destroy this certain asshole across the hall from me ...

But, enough of that. Until these papers are done, I need to stay calm.

Then I can get my revenge.

Posted at 10:51 PM

May 6, 2001

I didn't get very much done yesterday on the one paper I was hoping to get nearly finished, but today I was able to get it pretty much together. AT this point it needs some smoothing out - just simple revisions - and it will be done. I have until Thursday morning to tweak it a bit, but I'll probably try to finish cleaning it up on Wednesday and turn it in before I drive back to Toledo. I'll have to be there already to turn in the other paper first thing in the morning.

That paper has yet to be started. I had planned to work on it today, but working on the other paper today put me behind. I'll get started tomorrow morning, and then I'm supposed to meet in the afternoon with the girl that is writing the paper with me. Yeah, two people writing a paper together - it's kind of fucked up. But somehow we'll muddle through this together. I expect to spend all day tomorrow and most of Tuesday working on this paper, alone or with her. I am so glad this is the only thing left for this semester. Just a couple more days and it will all be over.

I have realized for a while that I'm more constructive and more positive in the morning than I am in the evening. I think once all of the school stuff is out of the way that I may experiment with writing the Journal in the mornings. I like the idea of writing about what came up during the day that was important or interesting, but I feel like I'm writing too much about being depressed and lonely. If I write in the mornings, when I'm happier, maybe I'll write more interesting stuff. We'll see.

Posted at 11:21 PM

May 5, 2001

More nightmares last night. What the hell is this all about anyways? I used to go literally for years not remembering a single dream and this past year has had dreams startling and disturbing me once or twice a month on average.

To anyone else, my dreams last night would not sound like nightmares. In fact, explaining them to anybody would probably just get a laugh and some obnoxious jokes to me. Well, this is one of those cases where certain things are just really upsetting only to the person experiencing them. Last night I woke up three times. Different dreams, but the same disturbing basis.

I was working at a Kinko's-like store in some position lower than manager, and everything that could be wrong was wrong. It was just frustrating and annoying, and I never got to leave, and it just seemed like that was all I would ever do or experience every moment of my life. It was like being back at Kinko's but worse - similar because I felt trapped in something I hated and that I had no life outside of the stressful job, but worse because there weren't even the breaks for tv or a nice meal on the town or even a good night's sleep. I have missed certain aspects of Kinko's (very few, but there are some), but mostly my hatred for throwing away ten years of my life for nothing just keeps growing stronger and stronger. The whole dream was very surreal and out of proportion, but that feeling of being trapped and never enjoying a moment of my life was expanded to an incredible extent. It just sucked.

It wasn't a nightmare in the sense that I awoke screaming or crying or terribly afraid (which actually has happened in the last few months), but it was just very disturbing and upsetting.

Hopefully tonight I will just sleep through soundly.

Posted at 11:39 PM

May 4, 2001

Today was the last day of formal classes. I turned in that paper (after working on it throughout the day), and now I have two more papers to finish, both of which constitute 30% of my final grade. One paper is due Wednesday morning and the other Thursday morning - they were both expanded in scope and will replace the final exams for those classes, so all I have to do is those two papers and then things are done until the fall.

It is way too fucking hot. Already it's been 80+ degree days and hot nights, and it's bound to get worse. I'm already miserable. I generate a lot of heat on my own - too much external heat just makes me sleepy and eventually sick. The Arts Center (where I live) is a very old building, and air conditioning does not exist here. Unfortunately the humidity has been hellish, and even constantly running a fan just doesn't seem to help.

Even though the heat is killing me, I'm somewhat excited about the summer coming up. Without classes to take, I'll have plenty of time to spend in the MetroParks and at the beach, time to work on the website, time to write, time to do some reading for pleasure (even after reading dozens of required books for classes, this is a strangely pleasant thing), time to get some exercise (maybe even some weight loss), and time to get rid of the fucking ball of stress in my neck. Ahhh ... no pain in my neck ... what a pleasant thought. Believe me, three weeks of this stiff, tense pain is driving me insane. Just a few more days and I can completely relax.

Posted at 10:48 PM

May 3, 2001

I had a paper due today. The drop dead due date is actually 5 PM tomorrow. The problem is that I have only just been able to really get a start on the paper this evening. I have worked on this paper for the past two weeks, around other projects, but I have been unable to develop something that can maintain itself as a strong critical argument. I have started and restarted the paper with a variety of themes and have even switched the books I analyze, but nothing would work.

Finally I stumbled upon something that seems to work (although not until I had already spent six hours during the first part of the day making failed attempts at the paper with other themes on other stories). I got a lot completed tonight, but there is still much to do. With a full classload tomorrow, I will be hard pressed to get this paper done to satisfaction, but it I think I just might be able to pull it off.

Ironically, I am supposed to meet with a different professor about a totally different paper tomorrow morning and get feedback on the direction I'm going with that paper. I have had no time to even rethink that other paper, so that meeting with my professor ought to be somewhat uncomfortable, particularly considering I will be spending all of my mental energy before and after on finishing this paper I have gotten underway tonight.

<deep breath>

Well, if I can successfully make it through tomorrow and get things finished in a timely fashion like I hope to do, then, ... well ... then I get to write papers all weekend and finish them Monday and Tuesday. But at least I'll be down to only two more papers and have a little breathing space.

Just one more week. For better or worse, it's all over then.

Posted at 11:48 PM

May 2, 2001

It's not fair. What did I do to deserve this fucked up shitty life? Why does everything have to go wrong? Why do people hurt me when I've done nothing but be nice to them? Why am I even alive?

It's not fair. There are no answers. I wish I was dead. Anything to stop this.

Posted at 11:45 PM

May 1, 2001

I hate this.
I am incredibly depressed. I don't want to even move. But I have to.
I am tired. I want to regain my strength. But I can't.
I am uninspired. I can't focus. But I must.
If only I can get this shit done for school, I can give up in another week. I have to. But it is so hard.
I hate this.

Posted at 12:10 AM