I am happy, I really am, but I don't think that that many people understand that. I mean, I like myself, I really do, and there isn't much that I would change about myself if I could. But lately, people have been making comments that tell me that noone really realizes that I am. I have been told that I am too negative (which, I guess I can understand...but for reasons I will get to), too emotional, too bitchy, that I "look upset", "seem unhappy", and the list goes on and on and on...it seems sometimes that everybody has a comment for Kyle.

But, like I said, I am happy. I understand what life is about, as much as one really can, and that we are all here for a reason, that we are to Love all things unconditionally, that we are to leave this world in a better condition than when we found it. We are to search ourselves, find ourselves, and most importantly, accept ourselves and in so doing, eleviate ourselves from the scourge of "need" in recogognizing that much of what we "need" is no more than want. Envy, Jealousy, Hate, and all other vices soon wash away as life becomes more simple, more beautiful, more happy. This is what Jesus, the Buddha, and oh so many people throughout the ages have found and taught -- to varying degrees -- but I think that it is a simple truth, it makes sense, and for me, it works.

But with happiness, as I have found, comes loneliness. A loneliness that arises from being misunderstood, to some degree, but also in an unhappiness equal and opposite to true happiness when one sees so many people struggling with their lives and trying to fill huge holes in their hearts with worthless junk...overemphaised wants. To see people obsessed with sex, with money, with power or fame upsets me in a deeply, deeply profound way as I realize that they are chasing ghosts and shadows, the proverbial dog chasing its tail.

And so I give out my advice...which is what this post is really about. Advice that gets me in trouble more often than it helps out those that I am trying to help. Today I caught myself counselling my manager who was having a bad day, wanting to quit. "You're a good guy," I almost said, "You don't need to put up with this shit"...but I caught myself. I didn't say it, and I'm glad. Perhaps people need to find things out for themselves, perhaps these things can not be taught or truly learned through anything but one's own, personal, experiences. That is, after all, how I learned. And so I think that I have to learn from the lessons that life is teaching me, finally listening to all that has been shown to me. I need to stop "suggesting" things for people, offering unsolicited advice, trying to tell them, in effect, what to do with their lives. Sure, my open heart can be out there on my sleve for them to access, come to when they need a friend or someone to talk to, but I need to stop shoving my nose in other peoples' faces. Yeah, it's all in good conscience, my "help", but it's annoying to the people that I do it to. It has to be. And, in the end, it probably causes more problems than it solves. In any case, I just wanted to post that...I know that I promised a lessening of personal posts, but sometimes you need to scream things out to the world for it to really get in your head...and this has been bothering me quite a bit for the last couple weeks.

It's not something about me that upsets me, it's what I do with who I am...I wouldn't give up my willingness to help out others for the world...I just need to figure out where and when it's wanted.

I would write about the news, but the news is all depressing...Isn't there anything that doesn't involve death to report anymore? The possible bombing of Iraq into the stone age, the possible execution of the Beltway Sniper, the death of Paul Wellstone...if it's not death, it's a mother beating her kid, a kid shooting a horse or some other animal, some sort of scam that's taking advantage of the elderly...or anything about John Ashcroft. It's just so overwhelming lately. Add that to the heaps of negative attack ads that I hear everywhere I go, and it's enough to drive me nuts. Really, really, nuts.

Anyway, I'm just yapping because I want to post something...but I can't find anything that's not crappy.

Three weeks ago I wrote about how taking the LSAT took a huge burdan off of my shoulders. Well, I got my score back and it took off even more. I got a 154. That's not horrible, the 63rd percentile, but for me it is. I think that now I have to put off law school for another year, waiting for a chance to re-take the test and hopefully do better on it so that I can go to a school that will challenge me more than one that would accept some guy who scored a 154...

Anyway, I was kind of relieved to hear that I had done so badly...I dread the thought of filling out applications, begging for references from professors I haven't seen in years, and especially the anticipation of waiting to hear if I was accepted by any of my top choices. My God, that'd suck. But now I don't have to contend with any of it...and I think I can now concentrate on the here and now rather than the what's to come. And I need to do that. I really do. I've been messing up friendships lately with my hyper-emotional bullshit that comes to a head when I'm stressed, doing it enough to make me physically sick (I almost threw up on Saturday because of how I treated a friend), and it's all the result of the stress that all of this thinking, worrying, about my future has created for me. Thank God I can put it off for a year.

There are few in American politics that I find to be truly good people, worthy of honest respect, and am willing to really root for whether I agree with them or not. There are even fewer that are willing to stand up for what they believe in, even if it means "political suicide", just because they think that what they're doing is right. Even rarer are those that are willing to flaunt the "liberal" label and take upon their shoulders the plights of the average American and the flag of Progressivism. But today there is one less of those few, as Senator Paul Wellstone has died tragically in a plane crash in his home state of Minnesota. America will feel his loss as one of the few to stand up for sanity when insanity seems to be the issue of the day.

I am deeply saddened by this and want to join the millions of Americans who felt as I did in mourning his loss. My thoughts and prayers go out to all who knew him.

Just wanted to post a little something about money and it's nature...in case you were interested.

"By possessing the property of buying everything, by possessing the property of appropriating all objects, money is thus the object of eminent possession. The universality of its property is the omnipotence of its being. It therefore functions as the almighty being. Money is the pimp between man's need and the object, between his life and his means of life. But that which mediates my life for me also mediates the existence of other people for me. For me it is the other person...

"That which is for me through the medium of money - that for which I can pay (i.e., which money can buy) - that am I, the possessor of the money. The extent of the power of money is the extent of my power. Money's properties are my properties and essential powers - the properties and powers of its possessor. Thus, what I am and am capable of is by no means determined by my individuality. I am ugly, but I can buy for myself the most beautiful of women. Therefore I am not ugly, for the effect of ugliness - its deterrent power - is nullified by money. I, in my character as an individual, am lame, but money furnishes me with twenty-four feet. Therefore I am not lame. I am bad, dishonest, unscrupulous, stupid; but money is honoured, and therefore so is its possessor. Money is the supreme good, therefore its possessor is good. Money, besides, saves me the trouble of being dishonest: I am therefore presumed to be honest. I am stupid, but money is the real mind of all things and how then should its possessor be stupid? Besides, he can buy talented people for himself, and is he who has power over the talented not more talented than the talented? Do not I, who thanks to money am capable of all that the human heart longs for, possess all human capacities? Does not my money therefore transform all my incapabilities into their contrary?...

"That which I am unable to do as a man, and of which therefore all my individual essential posers are incapable, I am able to do by means of money. Money thus turns each of these powers into something which in itself it is not -- turns it, that is, into its contrary" (EMPHASIS MINE)

-Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844

Though I don't agree with much of what has occurred with Marx over the years (ie. communism), I feel that he hit the nail on the head when it came to the role that money has come to play in our lives. Too many people are obsessed with money, and in so doing have become blind to the differences between real good and artificial "paid for" good. In our society, we have made up our minds that we should avoid truth, instead substituting it with the illusions of granduer that money provides. I am not a rich man, nor would I want to be...because even though I am aware of the effects of money-goggles, I don't think that I could avoid the temptation of putting them on and losing myself in the process.

I've been erasing too much of what I've written. It's a problem in that I don't want this to be a personal page at all. I'm a private person generally and I realy don't want to air out my laundry so publically. So anyway, if you notice changes in postings from time to time, it's just a matter of my wanting to post something on any given day, but then regretting what I have written and then changing it once I've gotten home from the bar.

Man, I've been playing the ol' role of big brother to my fourteen year old brother too ruthlessly, too mindlessly lately. I need to lay off of that, I need to not try to corrupt the poor kid. I'm just playing the role of big brother the way that I had wished I had had a big brother to play the role for me when I was his age, and that's ridiculous. I had wished I had a big brother to talk about girls with, to get me porn, and to hook me up with booze and all that pubescent boys are so eager to "experiment" with at that age...and maybe I'd help him out if he asked...maybe not. But I shouldn't press the issue like I have, it's kinda creepy...kind of not like me at all. All I can say is that it's tough having been a real loser back in the teen years and now old enough to know all the "rules" that could have made me "cool" and to now have a brother entering those years himself. I wanna help him out, make it easier on him...but it's things like that that need to be addressed as he brings them up, not me.

I mean, the last thing I want to do is mess him up -- thinking that drinking and sex are more important that individualism and respect for others...even though I try to put that stuff in perspective, he's still too young to really understand the differences.

Oh well, I haven't screwed him up yet, not even close. He's a good kid. But I need to watch myself to make sure that I don't give him any wrong ideas. I never realized what I might be doing until tonight.

Wow, some people just like to take a story and run don't they?

Anchorage Daily News | Tale of big bird catches some air

dammit, I'm drunk. But I wanted to post a poem anyway...it's part of a book of bad poetry that I've been working on for years. The poem's as of yet untitled, but it's about...umm...astronomy.

Blinded by the sun, consumed in its majesty --
an illusion of proximity, a false sense of closeness --
unaware of an equal star, brighter, lighting your night,
watching over you as you stumble through the dark.

The sun shines for all, bathing them in its warmth,
uncaring, unsympathetic to the plights of your life,
secure in its position as the one that you adore,
uninterested in requiting the attention it receives.

But the star shines just for you, winking in the night,
unseen by most, desiring nothing more than your recognition --
wanting nothing more than to make you happy,
waiting for the attention you give the sun.

I think too many people think that I'm a goody-goody. That sucks, because from most perspectives, I am...and least in my actions, but I'm not. I mean, I don't intend on being "good" for the sake being "good" or to impress anybody, which pretty much makes me not one, but I'm sick of people always deciding to label me one and treat me as such. I can't remember the last time that anyone's even offered me drugs (and people always assume I've never even tried any), choosing to instead assume that I won't do it. I mean for God's sake...I do stupid shit all the time, it's just that no one cares enough to get to know me well enough to see that side of me...a side I admittedly try to hide from people that don't know me that well to prevent them from thinking of me as, well, a stupid shit. But then they think I'm a goody-goody. It's a vicious cycle really. But anyway, it kind of makes me feel like a ghost sometimes, a non-person. Or something.

geez...i'm only writing this in order to erase the poem that was here only moments ago...embarassing.

Lousy, no-good, cotton-pickin' "friends" abandoning me at the bar...


sorry, this is just satire...a post I'm making for the sole purpose of getting a smile on the face of a friend who, even though she abandoned me last night, I am not mad at. :) Have a nice day Rey.

I heard about this story last week on the news, and frankly it has helped eased some of my fears about giving money to strangers that ask for it. Ever since the "incident" that occurred to me two years ago when I picked up a woman who seemed to be in distress but turned out to be a hooker who, once in my car, attempted to feel me up and "borrow" $20 for which she'd "pay me back" I've been a little uneasy about helping out others. But I've come to the realization that I am being really crummy in being so stingy. There are people that need help and I (most of the time) have the means to help out, and I should. There's a safety level in doing so, I guess, and so I'm in no way going to stop for a beggar or suspicious looking person in an out-of-the-way area of town, but I can still float a buck here or there.

Last night was the first time I've done that in two years.

A man came up to me and claimed that it was his sister who was strangled the night before and that he needed 35 cents to buy papaers for "tabacco". I felt bad for him, I mean, he had a tear in his left eye that just spoke so much and for a minute I felt his pain...and then he started to tell me how the only thing you've got, when it comes down to it, was family and love. How could I refuse him? I really didn't care if he was buying papers to roll himself a joint or if he was going to buy a twenty-two at that point. I believed that he was in pain, and even if he was lying about it being his sister that was killed, I could still see that he was in pain and a buck is such a little price to pay to allow someone else to ease that pain for even a little while. So I gave him a dollar and told him I was sorry about his sister. Because I was.

Maybe I was stupid in giving him money -- falling for a hard-luck story that I had never heard before, I don't know...but maybe I've been stupid these last two years too. All I know is that I really need to open my heart more, help out when I can...even when I really can't or shouldn't.

I just found out that the stations in my hometown here have raked in three million or so dollars from political ads. That's ridiculous. Nationwide, the total is going to be over $1 BILLION dollars this year. Not only is it a shame that the media is making such a huge amount of money OFF OF DEMOCRACY, but they are doing so with OUR airwaves (that they get exclusive rights to...for free) without educating the voters enough about ALL the options that they will face on November 3. That makes me sick.

Thankfully, there's a good group out there (that I've been a member of for two years) that's trying to do something about it. Check them out:

Alliance for Better Campaigns

A good part of my work-year is spent scoring essays for one set of standardized tests or another and in doing so I see some pretty interesting stuff written by kids here and there around the country. Sometimes I see things though that really get to me, essays that for whatever reason really tug at my heart. I don’t know what reminded me of one of those essays now, since it was three or four months ago that I read it, but one in particular has been haunting me today.

The piece was written by what I have to assume is a black student, since he identified himself as such, going to school in an urban area somewhere. The essay was about a friend of his that had been shot and killed and how he was coping – or not coping – with it, and about a relative of his that was in prison for one reason or another. The thing is, it was a beautiful essay, poetic even in its structure and use of words with an opening paragraph or two that drew me into his life and his misery. The gist of it was pretty simple – life sucks, or maybe just that life is impossibly unfair – and though the subject matter was very unfamiliar to me – a white, suburban-bred, guy who has never lost anyone he knew to either the law or violence – it still spoke to me directly. For that matter, it even forced a tear to my eye. Or rather, enough tears that I had to leave the room and take a break.

Problem is, as amazing as the essay was, it was off-topic for the purposes of the examination and therefore did not receive credit.

I don’t know, for some reason today I’ve been thinking about that damned essay and what the broader implications of it to the world at large. Maybe it was that I saw something about Eminem on MTV and I got to thinking about how so many rappers are really quite creative and intelligent people, wonderful people even, except that they are driven by and embrace what I guess could be called a “thug” lifestyle. They, and by “they” I can think of the likes of Coolio and Snoop Dogg and several others that I have seen interviewed on one show or another or seen as guests on shows like Politically Incorrect, have great minds, both politically and artistically and yet they seemingly throw it away writing about gang wars, “bitches”, and themselves. They are so immersed in their gritty world that that is all they can write about, perhaps, or maybe it’s just that they know that such material sells better than other stuff would.

And it kills me to think that so many people are so entrenched in a world where the dirty underside of humanity – crime, hate, poverty – is so pervasive that they cannot escape it. Schooling becomes secondary to survival as does contemplation of the more profound aspects of life. Fear of death overcomes hope. Fear of being hated takes precedence over individuality. And the list goes on. And I am not talking about just the inner-city black kids, but rather everyone that lives in conditions that are less than comfortable, or at least do not provide a few key things like security, food, shelter, and the like.

How many people are left behind by our society and the fact that we do not care about those less better-off than ourselves? How many Einsteins, or Hemmingways, or Lincolns, or Platos, are left wasting their talent in games of mere survival instead of getting the education that they need in order to develop themselves to their full potential? I wonder sometimes if our technological prowess wouldn’t be vastly superior if we did care. I wonder if people wouldn’t be dying of cancer, if cars wouldn’t be driven on clean fuels, if computers wouldn’t be a thousand times faster today if we didn’t forget these poor kids whether they’re in downtown Detroit or in the middle of Appalachia or where ever and offer them an out or at least some sort of safe haven, or maybe even made it possible for their families to earn a decent living, whether or not they were educated themselves so as to not perpetuate the problem generation after generation after generation.

To see that a kid has ability, has potential that will more than likely never be realized – or at least has a better chance of being spilled with the blood of a drive-by shooting than being actualized – is disheartening to say the least. Especially when that potential is not even enough to garner enough credit on a test to pass, especially when that potential is forced aside by the cruel realities that too many are forced to survive in. How can a kid learn when their best friends’ death is first and foremost on their mind?

I feel so weak:

Yahoo! News - Kyle Rolls Along S. Carolina Coast CHARLESTON, S.C. (AP) - After wandering deep in the Atlantic for three weeks, Tropical Storm Kyle sideswiped the South Carolina coast Friday, swamping streets and homes with up to 8 inches of rain and packing destructive winds.

I feel as though the fog is finally lifting, that I am starting to find myself in happier places. No longer am I having these feelings like I have to be doing something at all times. No longer am I feeling an urge to leave as soon as I drag people into doing that something. I haven't had a true anxiety attack for a week, and most of the chronic signs of anxiety are lessening. Last night, I stayed home, watched TV, read a little, played a video game, and then messed around with a photograph of mine while hanging a couple others up in my still mostly bare-walled apartment. And then I went to bed...before midnight for the first time in a long time, actually allowing myself a full eight hours of sleep. And today I feel good, if not great. And that's a first time for months.

No longer am I dwelling on the problems of friends and those around me, trying to "fix" all their problems in an effort to ignore my own. It's good to be back to myself, or at least to be moving in that direction. Though perhaps the reading on this blog will start to become less interesting for anyone who's hung around to this point.

In any case, I just wanted to post that, to give an update. So get back to whatever it was that you were doing...unless you were just taking a break from the internet porn, in which case I think it's best if you check out this site.

I am a liar. I put on this sad face but in reality I am happy. In the doldrum of daily existence, I see many sad things, but I also see happy things. Amazingly happy things that put a smile on my face and sometimes a bring a tear to my eye.

I do not know why I dwell on the sad and depressing when I write and when I talk, I do not know why I am so quick to discuss the drab and depressing. Deep down, I am not that person. Perhaps I act that way because I wish that so many others could be happy when I so plainly see that they are not. Perhaps it's because I wish that those others could find joy in the little things and not be so upset by the little evils that penetrate our lives. I don't know. But I do know that I feel saddened by the fact that so many people are seemingly distraught, discontent, and otherwise disavowed from the beauty and small wonders of life. Or the miracle of life itself, I guess. But I am glad that there are some that feel the same as I, that are capable of appreciating those things that, for me, make the presence of some benevolent Creator clear as crystal. People with whom I can connect, that renew my faith in humanity, and help me realize that I am not the only one who believes in something greater than myself -- some ideal that is worth striving for. And I am grateful that I can call so many of those people my friends.

I am truly blessed.

"I am firmly convinced that not only excess of consciousness, but any conciousness at all is a disease." -Dostoevski

Guilt is the yoke that I bear and have for many years. The inability to be happy of my situation if my happiness relies on the unhappiness or discomfort of another. From the times that I have left friendships to the times of I ran away from love, from the time that guilt overcame me on Easter morning three years ago to now, the pain of accepting gifts of time, emotion, or life itself that I have not earned creates a sickening knot in my stomach and draws tears from my eyes. I am not worthy, I do not deserve so much that I have been given, and I certainly have no right to ask for more...

The question that bothers me now that has never bothered me before: In a conflict between the two, do you follow your heart or your principles? Through my life they have found themselves on the same path, but now they diverge...

Well, I took the LSAT on Saturday, and about the only good thing that came of it was the weight that it lifted off of my shoulders. I was really stressing up until Saturday, and even Saturday morning, but immediately once I was done, the stress went way down. I knew that I had been fretting that damned instrument of evil, but I think I was more worried about it than I had thought.

As far as the test went...I don't really know how I did. Not as well as I had hoped, but very possibly as well as I have when taking practice tests: 165 give or take a few points. Then again, it could be a lot worse. I have to wait three weeks to pay to get my scores (or get them in six weeks for free...what a rip-off).

This has me scared, very scared, for some reason...the randomness of it, the total randomness of the people that are being killed...doing ordinary daily things. I don't know...

'All There Was . . . a Loud Boom' (washingtonpost.com) Despite the crowds, the culprit apparently managed to avoid standing out, slipping away each time without attracting notice. There were no visible confrontations, no words spoken.
Millhouse said he couldn't tell where the bullet came from. Nor did he see anyone running or driving away. "I saw nobody. No cars speeding, nobody running, nothing. All there was was a loud boom."

The Question:
What religion are you?

My Answer (as I answered in the WWDN soapbox ):
I believe in (agape) Love and strive to live my life through it...with Jesus as my inspiration/rallying point. It seems to me that most (all?) churches have abandoned that idea as a major tenant in their preachings which leaves me pretty much in my own little world. Thinking like that has left myself wide open to the teachings of a lot of different religions, most of which tend to seem to me to teach towards the same "God" (even though some would not have a personal "God" in their belief structure). Which, I think might lead me to the label that is oh so popular these days: "spiritual but not religious".

Perhaps I could also call myself an "exiled Christian" as Bishop Spong has called it.

I liked that answer, it was short and sweet, just thought I'd share

Maybe McCarthy will remain dead?

One would never think that the police would be willing to hold reporters in jail for, well, reporting. One would not think that in this country people would be arrested and detained for non-violent, presumably First Amedment protected protest against the government and it's action. After all, this is a democracy, literally, "ruled by the people". Protest, raising voices, letter writing, these are all things that are fundamental to our freedom. And so would be the press' recording of those potests and that anger. In theory, in fact, democracy requires a free press to spread the word about what's going on. Police aren't supposed to involve the press unless the press is participating in something illegal. But yes this happened in America. In the capital even:

"People chanted for a peaceful release, their cries echoed by people on the outside of the blockade. When we pleaded our case to the officers, they ridiculed us and said we had had our chance - which we weren't aware of. As the police drew nearer, we were told they would confiscate our notes and might use them against the people mentioned in them. We were advised to hide them in various body cavities. We opted to give our notebooks to a Washington Post reporter, who was not detained."

::Kyle Watch::

Well, I'm back up to Tropical Storm strength from a little dip into tropical depression status, but as of right now I'm just sitting there in the middle of the freakin' Atlantic doing nothing.

edit: fixed my little ol' html mistake

Damn, Kyle's fizzling out. I had such high hopes for my namesake.

Okay, the question has been asked of me if these ramblings as of late are aimed at anyone. The short answer is no, the long answer takes time. When I go into these existential sort of rants, they are often times things that I wish I could talk to people about to their faces...but my extreme shyness and introversion prevents that. That being said, they are not really specific in nature, but rather the product of specific events mulled over into general feelings that my mind turns them into being. I mean, I see something at the mall, for instance, or have some conversation with a friend and it gets me thinking, and thinking about it tends to force it into grand generalizations rather than the specific instance that generated the idea. I do not speak of specifics in these persoal meanderings, but rather the broader implications of specifics.

But of course, this post breaks that rule. A friend who reads this asked me if the things I write were directed at her. No, not really. But sort of. Sometimes a certain specific may pop up (my mentioning a week or so ago of "three-o'clock-knocking-on-the-window obsessive" or something like that would be an example), but they are not the reason for my writing anything...just the larger scope issues that those instances remind me of.

As for any other deeper meaning in this, there is none. I do not write to get anything out of this, I do not intend on trying to cryptically announce any sort of lusting or anything of the sort. I have a fear that some of what I write (whether here or in poems or stories that I write...and publically share) may be read this way as I tend to be rather melodramtic and overstate my loneliness. It's just drama and literary games on my part, I assure you. Nothing should be read into what I post. I am not trying to woo anyone through these posts, nor am I trying to say that I want anything from anyone aside from what I may say in real life. My blabbering about loneliness is not an invitation or plea for romanticism with anyone I know. In case anyone thought that that might be the case, which I feel may be so. If that is the case, be up front with me about it -- through e-mail, phone, or face to face conversation -- and we'll discuss. I have no qualms about that.

I hope that this clears things up rather than muddies the water.