Tonight is the worst night of my recent life. I am now in hour four of a huge panic attack. I can barely breathe, I cannot sit still, I cannot think straight, I've been driving all over town burning gallons and gallons of fuel, visiting bars where I might know somebody or something. I don't know why I'm this way today, only that I am and I can't stand it. It's made worse by the fact that I feel utterly and totally alone at this moment and even though I have called and visited the houses of all three of my true friends in town, no one's home, no one's answering their phones, no one's returning messages left for them. It's one of those nights where you need to talk, need to feel loved, need to cry on someone's shoulder and absolutely no one is there. No one. I'm not blaming them, not at all, I can't go believing that their lives should revolve around me or anything like that, but it still sucks that there's no one that can lend me an ear right now, ya know?

Well, I'm off to the bar again. I'll leave you with the lyrics of the song that is playing on the soundtrack of my life tonight...

The Bends
by Radiohead

Where do we go from here?
The words are coming out all weird
Where are you now, when I need you
Alone on an aeroplane
Fall asleep on against the window pane
My blood will thicken

I need to wash myself again to hide all the dirt and pain
'Cause I'd be scared that there's nothing underneath
But who are my real friends?
Have they all got the bends?
Am I really sinking this low?

My baby's got the bends, oh no
We don't have any real friends, no, no, no

Just lying in the bar with my drip feed on
Talking to my girlfriend, waiting for something to happen
I wish it was the sixties, I wish I could be happy
I wish, I wish, I wish that something would happen

Where do we go from here?
The planet is a gunboat in a sea of fear
And where are you?
They brought in the CIA, the tanks and the whole marines
To blow me away, to blow me sky high

My baby's got the bends
We don't have any real friends

Just lying in the bar with my drip feed on
Talking to my girlfriend, waiting for something to happen
I wish it was the sixties, I wish I could be happy
I wish, I wish, I wish that something would happen

I wanna live, breathe
I wanna be part of the human race
I wanna live, breathe
I wanna be part of the human race, race, race, race

Where do we go from here?
The words are coming out all weird
Where are you now when I need you?

>>three hour later addition edit<<

I went to the bar, ran into people I knew but none that I consider a "friend" in the truest sense of the word -- it didn't help. No one understands my problems, no one really wants to listen to them, no one wants to help me. I can list everything that overburdens my heart -- war, the kids, love, finances, injustice, inequity, God, Mom, art, purpose, hope, etc. -- but no one understands. They say "Kyle, you look like something's wrong" and I might try to explain, but they don't care, they just give me a puzzled look and turn away. "What's a panic attack?" they might ask, and I don't care to explain. "What triggered it?" they ask, and I can't say what..."that's what sucks about panic attacks" I reply and they say "oh" or some other nonsense and stay away from me the rest of the night. No one understands. No one. But I'm still in the midst of it, it started seven hours ago and though the talk of politics numbed it for a bit, or at least distracted me, I still half-thought of trying to visit or call a friend. But that's selfish I thought, that's rude. And so I came home and am now writing here on my blog.

I want soma, I want relief, I want to go away from this place that I'm at and never come back. I want to feel like I belong to something, some place, or someone. I want to feel like there's meaning, like there's purpose to my life, like there's nothing wrong in this world or in my life. I want to belong. I want to look out onto the world and see that everything is fine and that there's nothing to worry about. I want to be numb. I want to be happy. I want soma.

Soma, Soma, Soma. I don't know what that means, I talked about it tonight, but I don't know what it means. I just wish that I lived in a vacuum, a bloody vacuum where there were no outside influences to distract me from myself. A place where I could be me without feeling I have to explain myself or be anything that I'm not. A place where nothing hurts me unless I hurt myself which I wouldn't do because, frankly, I have no reason to hurt myself. I don't feel that way. But the rest of the world hurts and I can't help but feel that hurt myself. Man it sucks to have a conscience, but soma would take care of that, so maybe if I repeat it over and over and over again, I can have pleasant dreams of numbness.

Soma, Soma, Soma, Soma, Soma...Soma...Soma...So...Ma...SssssssOooooo...zzzzzz

So, our wonderfully "compassionate" president is giving a speech right now about a half mile from my house and there are protestors everywhere. God bless them. I almost cried as I saw so many people, beautiful people, marching through the streets with anti-war signs and chanting slogans of peace. It was beautiful. And all I could think was how I wish I could have joined them, because there is no greater cause to protest for than peace and love. Fuck fuck fuck. I wish I could join them...but alas, I am stuck working and taking illegal breaks to express my dismay on my blog.

Pray for this country, for I fear we are headed down a bad, bad path. I will.

So I was checking my e-mail (none of you readers has sent me anything lately...shame on you!) and saw a headline that, for whatever reason, interested me and clicked it to find myself in the relationship section of MSN. Oh joy. So I'm randomly clicking advice columns and, all at once, I find myself being perfect or pretty damn-near it again. All the whiney women and all the advice to guys points right at moi and yet here I sit, at home, alone, typing on my stupid blog. A couple weeks ago I asked a small handful of people what about me makes me "undateable" and I only got a few things, none of which seem to me to be so lethal as to make me leper-like in my repulsion of women. Oh well.

Good night.

I've spent some time today trying to hunt down people that I used to know...just to see what they are up to nowadays, but I can't seem to find a single one. It sucks. It really, really does...because I thought I had kept up on at least where they were or how I could reach them, but all that information's absolutely no good anymore. Man how I hate that. I did find one girl's new phone number, but we haven't talked in three years or so and it was a sort of akward speparation at that so I think I might be afraid of calling her up or something. I don't know. But it sucks because in the phone book she has the same zip code as me which means that she most likely lives within a mile or two from where I am currently sitting...so close, yet so far away.

I was just looking at the movie listings and it's just too overwhelming how many movies are out that I want to see. I won't be able to see them all, so it's next to impossible to choose the one I'm going to see first, then second, then third...argh. Anyway, I'm gonna send out this SOS, if anyone has a bootleg of any of these, let me know. I don't want to have to spend $7 a pop to see these:

About Schmidt, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, Chicago, the Pianist, The Hours, Adaptation, and A Guy Thing (hey, Jason Lee is hilarious and Julia Stiles is hot as hell...so I can want to see it if I want to).

Thank you.

Speaking of things people do that are totally stupid and dumb, here's a heart-wrenching news story that made me want to cry (not for the faint of heart):

From the Idaho Statesman, “Grab a dog and cuddle,” Hutchinson told volunteers who asked how they could help Friday.

Yes my faithful readers, it is time once again for my weekly analyis of that crazy reality show, Joe Millionaire. This week, again as has been the case since the show's debut (well, except for the first week when he actually chose Heidi to move on), I was pretty good at realizing what was going through poor Evan's mind as he picked his picks. Again, I was right about Zora and I am even more convinced that those two crazy cats should be the final outcome of the show. I mean, they are obviously intrigued by one another and, dare I say it, the fact that they are so friggen akward when around each other sometimes and then in amazing bliss at other times just goes to show to me that they are falling for each other. I mean, on paper, their two dates have been the most tense and least "flashy" but they have something deeper going on there. Yeah, Evan and Sarah had some good make-out time and he's obviously physically attracted to Melissa more than the other girls (I mean, she has a rocket bod and all...), but I think that maybe the guy realizes that love ain't all about googly eyes and tongues down the throat and yada yada yada (a Seinfeld reference for anyone that cares) or about physical attraction or even a good old-fashioned conversation over nasty spaghetti, but about that sort of similarity of souls and the recognition of that even when things aren't going so swell that I go on and on and on about it on this here blog (go on, read the archives, I've said it precisely 178 times...okay, maybe not) and that boy Evan and that girl Zora got it going on baby, they got it going on...we should all be so lucky. My money is still on Zora -- I mean, she'd definitely be the best choice -- but there's still room for Evan to get horny or needy or whatever and pick one of the other two with whom he doesn't have that connection. I mean, he wouldn't be the first person to be so afraid of the possibility of true love to run away from it for something easier. The world's full of those of us who have at one point or another...I might even not call him gay if he did now that he's at least given Zora that chance.

I should find some way to make a living at being a Matchmaker...singing "matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Find me a find, catch me a catch..." Okay, that's kinda gay doing showtunes and all...I'll stop now before I start questioning myself.

But anyway, I'm going to move on to an observation I made while working today and that is the obnoxiousness of the advertising industry. Every day on the radio I hear ads for the most ridiculous of stuff. I mean, besides the ads for sex aids and bullshit like that (I tend to turn the station whenever I hear about a product that will "revolutionize your sex life" or "satisfy your partner" because I hate to associate myself with people so easily pandered by the sex industry into over-emphasizing the role of sex in life...a topic I could devote an entire blog to so I won't even start), I keep hearing these ridiculous ads for the lottery, specifically scratch-off tickets. They claim that they are "fun" that they will make your life better, that they will bring excitement into your life. I say "a-wuh-huh?" What the hell? Seriously. I have bought a scratch-off ticket or two in my life (okay, maybe twenty or so) and they were not at all exciting, not at all fun. This one ad I hear often goes on about how people "hold their breaths while they scratch" and how most people play "for the excitement". Do people really do this? And I guess I know the answer to that already so it's ridiculous to ask (it's also ridiculous how many times I've used the word "ridiculous" in this post...I'm sorry...I blame it on the bar). I've been to the store too many times to buy chips or beer or whatever and seen people that seemingly obviously should not be doing so slap down twenty/thirty bucks for instant lottery and daily-three games...I can only assume that they do so on a regular basis (in fact, I know some do since I have seen them often). That's sad. Why do they do it? It's one thing to buy a ticket or two once and awhile when you're feeling lucky (I mean, I fit in this group I guess), or even for those that buy $100 worth when the lottery gets up above $100million or whatever (as long as they can afford it), but it's quite another for people who can't afford it to be spending one or two hundred dollars a week on that crap. I realize it's an addiction probably, but why? And then it comes back to those damn commercials and I can't help but think that maybe they are feeding these people with the idea that, yes indeed scratching off pieces of cardboard with a penny is indeed fun...or at least giving them the idea that blowing 50% of their income on such bullshit is acceptable. And what makes it worse is that it's the state of Michigan that pays for these ads that nudge people into doing it. I'm rolling my eyes back right now (you can't see that and I forget the smiley-face code for it anyway) thinking about it...no, the government would rather hunt down people for smoking marijuana or being Muslim or whatever...let people buy their lottery tickets though. We have our priorities all wrong.

The television has been showing an awful lot of what I like to call "comic romantic comedies" (you know, like The Wedding Singer and There's Something About Mary -- funny movies with a romantic story-line not the other way around as "romantic comedies" are) and I have watched several of them, the two I just mentioned being the ones that I watched straight through, more or less. Anyway, I have been finding it really creepy how well I identify with the "main guy" in each of them.

I just watched The Wedding Singer and throughout the whole thing I just kept thining how Robby Hart (Adam Sandler's character) is so much like me. I mean, not in terms of mannerisms or whatever -- okay, maybe somewhat -- but in terms of how he reacts to love and what he thinks love is and how he is pretty much in denial of it. I don't know, I needn't go into specifics about anything that goes on, because that would take much more time, but I do want to comment on one thing that it has me thinking about...that is, that I am not that freakish in my desires for my romantic self. I mean, obviously if this issues are being addressed on screen the way that I would address them (and they always come to happy endings I might add), I must not be alone in my attitudes. Obviously, there are at least screenwriters out there writing these scripts and producers and directors that read them and see them as having some merit or else they wouldn't make them, and the way that actors are drawn to the roles and it all seems to suggest that my thoughts are more common than I sometimes give merit. Or something like that.

I just sometimes wish that life was like the movies more, because too many times in my life I have had relationships like those protrayed in flicks like that and they have never worked out. I mean, I have had a few friendships behave just like the one in The Wedding Singer (some scenes actually seem ripped out of my life story, I could identify with the characters so well) and even though one or both of us tried to act on the attraction, nothing worked out. I don't know if that's because I don't try hard enough or because the girls involved were oblvious to the fact that love is in fact like what's in the movies sometimes...not like that in Casa Blanca or Roman Holiday maybe, but definitiely like that in some of the more down to earth films...even comedies (or comic romantic comedies). Shit, maybe it's not just their being oblivious to how life can be like it is in the movies but are oblivious to what love is at all...too many of them fall for the whole glossy magazine schtick.

Or maybe the fact that I identify with the love lives of comedians just means that my love life is a joke... :)

That was eating me alive as I was watching the movie and I just had to share it...it being Saturday night and all, my only friend right now is you Mr. Blog (actually, I did get invited to two things -- a show and the bar -- the bar I can't stand on weekends, the show I can't go to for other reasons, so I shouldn't be complaining).

I spent last night, the better part of it at least, alone (though I ran into a friend at the bar and talked for awhile which was nice) and it felt really good. I've been trying too hard lately to be social, I go out too much and stuff during the week and then on weekends when no one calls, I get upset. I'm getting spoiled I think. Or something. I have always been a loner and have always been the kind of guy that enjoyed time to myself and the like. But I got sick of that and so, like I too often do, I decided that only the extreme opposite would cure me (like this one day last week I decided that because I feel alienated for being a nice guy, only being really bad -- to the point of flipping off nuns and stuff -- would make me feel better). Anyway, that's not who I am. My friends the other night told me that I shouldn't be so reliant on other people, that I should find happiness in myself and that sorta thing. I thought that they were being stupid when they said that because I view myself as being a pretty independent, self-sufficient guy and all, but the more that I think about it, the more I realize that they're right. I have been relying on others for my contentment in life too much lately, acceptence by others is something I'm feeling obsessed about almost, and abandonment of even the tiniest sort makes me feel awful. I tell myself that I need people to talk to me and understand me, and though that's nice, a shoulder to cry on instead of my hands, it's dumb of me to think that I need that. It makes me selfish, more selfish than I really am, and it makes me do crazy-stupid things that I really really regret seconds after I do them. And I'm sure that it makes me say and do a lot of things that I'm not even aware of but other people are more than aware of and judging me on. I don't like that feeling. I don't like it at all. It needs to stop. I am honestly comfortable with who I am, but this wicked persona that I've been plastering onto the world in recent months is almost exactly opposite that and it makes me feel like I'm being a fake and plastic and someone other than myself...like I'm trapped in someone else's body or something. I don't know.

But anyway, I believe that the happiest people are those that can be so without the need of others being with them, and I am good at being alone. I can entertain myself (and not just in a purely auto-erotic way) and I can learn so much more about myself when I'm by myself. So this weekend, when no one calls me (yeah, yeah, that's an assumption...but based on past performance, which I realize is not always indicative of future performance...but still the norm), instead of getting upset and moping and whatever, I'm going to be content with watching movies and eating popcorn, reading and writing, and staring at the ceiling and thinking. I'm going to promise that to myself.

Sorry...I just needed to think out loud for a minute, sorry for interupting your web-surfing activities... :)

Today was a miserable day for the most part, especially given how it started out...by my ramming my car into a mail truck. You know, sun and snow glare and the white paint of those USPS trucks just don't lead to anything good. But anyway, it wasn't anything serious but it did mean that the carrier whose truck I hit got an hour or two behind which meant that they needed another carrier to help out with the route she was supposed to do. So they called my roommate and he came in and was told that one of the trucks had been run into and that they needed his help. When I got home tonight, I asked him: "So I did I get you some work today?" and he looked at me puzzled, "I ran into a truck and the carrier said that she was going to need help to get her route done..." "That was you???"

Sometimes the smallness of this world is overwhelming...

EDIT -- This was the real post that was here...I erased it out of shame, but today, Dec. 5, 2003, I am re-adding it in my attempt to be sincere. This episode in my life is over, so it's not so horrible...

Oh what a shitty day I have had. The shittiest of shitty days. I’ll try and explain. First things first, I started my day by attempting to buy a tank of gas. Hmph. Well, I get to the gas station and try to turn in, the sun in my eye and snow banks everywhere…needless to say, a lot of white. Also white was the mail truck that was pulling out of the same driveway that I was trying to pull into, the mail truck that I didn’t see, the mail truck that I proceded to smash into. Yes, I ran into the neighborhood mailman. Not a lot of damage to either of us, let alone injuries, but still a big pain in the butt because I had to wait for the police to show up while standing out in the single-digit cold without enough clothing on, especially on my feet and hands. Fifty minutes I had to stand outside waiting, I couldn’t start up my car because I was already running on fumes by that point and didn’t dare try to idle it to keep warm, and that’s not even to allow the factor of my car’s propensity to stall whenever it’s cold. So I had to sit out there, talk to the cop, fill out post office forms and whatever else, by the time I finally got to work I did so with numb feet and a civil infraction ticket that I don’t know will cost me.

That was just my warming up.

As I’ve said before, my job allows me too much opportunity to think to myself. Way too much time. Well, I did a lot of that today, and it wasn’t happy thoughts. See, last night I was an asshole to a friend. There’s no need to go into details, but the fact of the matter is, I blew something way out of proportion -- to the point of being a total jackass and entirely ruining the evening. A pet peeve of mine (having a conversation on the cell phone while in the middle of a discussion) occurred and instead of a sensible “you know, I find being left at the bar by myself while the person I’m with talks on the phone very uncomfortable.” I instead went all over-dramatic and suggested that we leave because she “ruined the conversation”. I hate that about myself. I fucking hate it. In fact, it is the only thing in the world that I can say I hate – the way that I blow things out of proportion and get all over-dramatic about the stupidest things…it’s lost me friends and it’s caused me self-respect. I fucking hate that part of me. But I did it and I regret it and I’ve beat myself up all day today thinking about it. My friend doesn’t deserve that, not at all. Even if I was offended by her actions, which would still be blowing a pet-peeve out of proportion, it was totally unacceptable of me to do what I did. And all day my thoughts floated around that and how that needs to change about me. It needs to change. It’s not right to be a person that allows himself to do that, get all emotional about something insignificant like that. Dammit, I just want that part of me to die, go away, and never ever come back. That is to be my focus for myself…to rip that part of my soul to shreds.

The rest of the day was spent wondering why I did what I did, and why things between me and this friend sometimes come to that sort of discomfort level. It’s not healthy, as she has said, but at the same time, I think it is a good thing and something that we need to talk about. It’s that good sort of discomfort that I wrote about last night before all of this happened, not the wool sweater and winter coat in summer heat kind of discomfort but that sort of things can only get better sort of discomfort. I don’t know, she and I need to talk. I never ever want that sort of thing to happen – never ever ever ever ever again – and I think that if we just talked very candidly, things would be clearer and this tension that exists between us – and sometimes breaks in moments like last night – would be worked out and everything could be honky-dory again. I don’t know. I feel like shit. I really do.

I've re-read my post from last night several times just now and it leaves a question lingering for myself: Why is something so beautiful as love so shitty? I mean, I'm not renegging on anything that I said in that post, but it is plain to see that my passion for everything, for life itself, is causing me a lot of confusion and strife. I don't get it. I really don't. I think I have gotten to a point where I believe that love is so powerful, so wonderful because it forces you to examine yourself, forces you to face your demons, forces you to be uncomfortable...because we're not wire for love, I believe that. It's not a natural thing. It's something granted by God to bring us closer to Him, and because of the fact that it is a super-human thing being crammed into a human body, it's very very uncomfortable, claustraphobic even. But I have found that the things in life that are uncomfortable, the things that are painful even, are the best things, at least in the process of our growth as emotional human beings. My mother's death, my unrequited love, my trying to give up belief in God, my being stuck in Yellowstone National Park, my flying to Europe with no idea what to do, my near-death experiences, all of them -- I would never want to willingly face those strifes again, but I would rather do so than be the person that I was before each of them. Each of those uncomfortable positions have forced me to re-evaluate my life and make me make the changes that make sure that I never felt that way before. And I have become a better and better person, a happier person, at each of those steps...even the ones that have permenantly scarred me. This, I feel, is another one of those moments as I am very, very uncomfortable in my skin right now (and not because of the dry winter air). I can't really even describe it. But, assuming it doesn't kill me, it will make me stronger.

PREFACE: I should warn you that this is a long meandering free-writing that kind of goes all over the place, but it comes to a noble end, so don't get frustrated with the things that I say half-way through because, frankly, I contradict myself by the end anyway...and it's the end that matters since it's where I finally have a "break-through" and it becomes a fine example of the art of free-writing (IMHO), which is the reason that I'm keeping it all up even if the first two-thirds make me sound like a conceited ass. That's my punishment for myself for being a conceited ass. :)


One of the reasons that I actually do like my job is that it gives me an aweful lot of time to think. Whether that thinking is about world events, my friends and family, or myself depends entirely on what is going on in the world around me. Sometimes it's a curse, however, as my mind begins to wonder and focuses in on one idea and my brain just doesn't want to stop. Today was one of those days and the topic that I couldn't stop thinking about was myself. First off, I got confused, confused because of things that were said last night. You see, I think that the thing that defines me as a person, and the thing that sets me apart from other people, is my passion. Not romantic or sexual passion, but the loving kind...the Jesus kind, if you will. I went to the coffee shop tonight and free-wrote, and I ended up with five and a half pages of frustrations that I have with myself and the world, and in the middle of it, I wrote three pages about love. I'll rewrite some of it here:

"Everyone loves the flowers and the trees, the touch of a lover, the smile of a child which leaves no love for those that need it most and those that I love. I love the sweatshop children knitting our sweaters 14 hours a day. I love the political prisoners trapped in Hell for daring to think for themselves. I love the woman down the street trapped in a loveless marriage because she mistook lust for love so many years ago, I love the black man neighbor left feeling repressed because of the color of his skin, the gay friend left alienated by his family because of who he loves, the children that face the horror of war because of greedy grown men and their ambitions, the luckless soul born into a world where needs are out of his reach, the homeless girl who falls asleep at night not knowing if she'll wake up at the end of the cold cold night, the prostitute whoring because she never learned to read or love or relate, the dreamer caught in the restlessness of eternal insomnia...I love them because somebody should, I care about them because somebody must, I adore them because they deserve it. I love them even though it destroys me"

I think that that last sentence says a lot about that confusion. I am proud of myself that I honestly care so deeply for the misfortunate among us, even though their suffering doesn't affect me personally. No, more than pride I feel about it, it's the reason that I love myself. And yet, I know that it is that that causes me so much pain. So many people can close their eyes to the injustices of the world and live their lives as if nothing is going on around them. I can't. And nobody understands that. Nobody understands love. But I feel it: I cry when I see a homeless man shivering, I feel tremendous guilt when I think about who stitched together the shirt that I'm wearing, I want to fight to my death to get that prisoner of consciousness out of prison. I do. But that love, that strongest of desires to undo all the wretchedness of the world wears me out which leads to frustration which leads to desperation which leads to exasperation which leads to my being an asshole to my family and friends and my exuding this stench of hopelessness. And that kills me, socially and emotionally. Because I give out all this love and I don't think people really understand that. All they see is the exasperation as wretchedness and they say that I need to lighten up. They say that I need to stop worrying about other people, they say that I need to be less sensitive, they say that I need to be less reliant on other people...and the thing is, I agree with them. I do need to stop trying to take the world on my shoulders, I do need to concentrate on improving myself, I do need to work on my social skills. I need to take steps to improve myself to the point where people can come to truly appreciate me as a friend or more. I do. I really, really do. Because even though I am the way that I am out of love for my fellow man and hatred for injustice, both very honorable things methinks, it doesn't do me any good to feel that way, to have those feelings, if I can't communicate and I can't communicate when I'm so hung up on all the problems of the world and letting them infiltrate every fiber of my being. It's a huge-ass Catch-22. I need to lay off of other people's problems, lay off the love, because they are creating monstrous problems for myself. And it leaves me very confused.

But out of that confusion came fright. Suddenly I realized that the thing that makes me me, is the very thing that causes other people to be uncomfortable with me. The very thing that makes me a person that I love and feel deserves love is the thing that ultimately leads to my pushing people away. Of course, that leaves me with a two options: abandon my love for humanity, or abandon my friends who I love. I can't have both, at least not to the extent that I do now. I can't keep going on with my life worrying about other people and their problems and keep my friends at the same time. I can't be me and be who my friends (and I) think I should be all at once. I need to change. That scares the shit out of me. I am become Janus the god with two faces and I have to choose one. I can't keep going on like this. If I choose one way, I lose that part of me that makes me who I am, if I choose the other I damn myself to a lifetime of loneliness -- something that I can't even begin to think I'd be able to tolerate. It's not fair. It's not fair at all....

Fucking-a, there it is, it was there all along, my biggest problem. I have been a blind, stupid asshole but suddenly everything that I'm saying is starting to resonate in my own head. Finally. All of a sudden I have come to realize what it is that is wrong with me...

My whining. I don't think it's fair. I don't feel like I deserve to be in this spot. But I am. The thing is, I haven't let mysle accept that. I, instead, try to blame other people for "not seeing me for what I am" or whatever and bitch and moan about it ad infinitum and that is just plain stupid. It's no ones fault, no ones, but my own and deep down I know that. I know that I create my own barriors in life, I know that I push people away, I know that I am afraid of getting emotionally too close to people, I know that I get worked up about the stupidest little things and try to justify my getting worked up about them by putting them in some sort of noble category, I know that I do all these things, and the thing is, I don't want to take that responsibilty upon myself. But I have to. I do. It's the only way that I will ever get all that I am after. I need to accept my faults as a human being, learn to live with them, and even learn to balance my emotions in such a way that they can comfortably live side by side. I can love humanity and still be a lovable person, I believe that. I just need to come to terms with myself and stop trying to pin my problems on other people. And I think I'm starting to do that. It's going to be hard for me. Very, very hard and I am going to need my friends in a big, big way for comfort and encouragement along the way. I jut hope that my being an asshole these last few weeks...months....years hasn't pushed them away to the point where they're not going to want to listen to me long enough to explain myself and what I'm trying to do for me...and, in the end, for them too since I know that it will only make me a better friend for them too.

Oh well, I've blathered on long enough and I'm going to just post this minus a proof read...so I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope it makes sense. God bless.

For starters I'll begin with my usual Monday night/Tuesday morning analysis of Joe Millionaire...I watched the show with my room mate and best friend and both of them thought for sure that Zora was going to be kicked off. They both felt it was obvious that she would be. I was the lone dissenter (I guess that makes mine the minority report -- but then it doesn't surprise me given the fact that I'm almost always right about the compatibility of two people). The thing is, the two of them are so obvious for one another. Sure, their date was akward and they didn't talk much and it was certainly uncomfortable for both of them, but that's not at all what's important in love. I know this...too well. The thing that was important was that they are two kindred spirits, that they understand each other deeply even if they don't realize it. I mean, true love, if that's what it can be called (not that I believe that either would realize it at this stage of their "relationship") is about that, not about the superficialities of good times and comradery. The fact that they didn't have much to say speaks volumes about their inter-relationship and how good they are for one another. At this stage, Evan seems to realize this, or at least feels that it is more important than the hotness or fun or seeming likenesses that he has with other girls, but only time will tell if he's not a dumbass and dumps her. That sort of connection only comes now and then, if at all, in life.

But the even better half of my evening came after the show so I'll cut off that talk for now. After the show, the three of us went to the bar and that eventually turned into a good conversation that lifted my heart a bit. For starters, I found that I am not such a basket case for having my semi-fanatical understanding of the nature of love in it's various forms (essay posted on my website to save BlogSpot some bandwidth) and how so many (I estimate 99.9% of Americans and probably 99.3% of the rest of the industrialized world -- more in places with pop culture influences than others) have a confused notion of it. I see so many chasing shadows and it depresses me, but at least I know now that I am not some over-romantic psychopath for believing that two many people are hung up on the belief that eros and philos are the pinnacles of "true love". That makes me feel better.

It also was a relief to hear someone tell me that all the problems that I have with social relationships (of various sorts) are not unique to me. I am not alone, and I needn't go into specifics here, and it feels good to know that it is not unusual...or at least not specific to me alone...to feel as lonely and underappreciated as I do. I was given the criticism of my persona that I have been seeking out for too long, and though I knew most of it in my heart already, it is reassuring somehow to hear other people say that that's what they feel is my problem. Basically, I give off an aurua of hopelessness, which I totally see, and that drives people away. And though it is hard for me to try and change that about myself -- because it's hard to blame yourself when you feel screwed over by other people time and time and time again, even if you know some of the problem is in yourself -- I feel as though I have confirmation of my worst feelings about myself and that gives me a place to start off at. I was also able to share my feelings of under-appreciation and ideals of what life is all about, and that too gives me hope.

The only negative that I feel about tonight is that I worry that people feel they've been too harsh to me. I tried to convey that I don't feel over-burdened by criticism that I am given and that I rather relish it given the fact that people (and especially girls) tell me how fucking wonderful I am, but I fear that they might feel that I cannot take it for whatever reason. I can, I am seeking out criticism because, at this point in my life, I need that. I don't know what my deal is, not exactly, and it's wonderful to have friends care about me enough to tell it to me straight out. It helps me focus. It helps me weed out the other possibilities that I feel are contenders and lets me work on those things that other people perceive as my weaknesses as a human being. I am teflon baby, nothing sticks and nothing scorches, I can take all the criticism in the world and it won't even phase me. I've been through enough shit in my life (death of a friend and my mother, crisis of faith, unrequited love to name a few) that my lackings as a human being are nothing. I'm not sure people really understand that about me. I wish they did, because it kills me that I feel people don't realize they can be brutally, painfully honest with me and I'll love them even more in the end for doing so. That's what love's all about in the end after all...

But anyway, to some it all up, I feel more normal tonight than I have in a long time, and I feel loved. Thank you.

Man, I almost hate to admit it, but for the last two or three weeks, I have been really horny. I don't know what my deal is. I've been getting too excited too easily, I've been paying too much attention to the below the neck regions of girls' anatomy instead of their faces, and I've been -- how to say this nicely -- spending too much time with myself. I really can't stop thinking about sex-related topics and how I might be able to participate in them without breaking any of my rules of ethics when it comes to getting my game on. My penis comes up in conversations, masturbation does too, and, frankly, I think it's hilarious when I look back at things I have said. Heck, maybe I'm starting to lighten up or something.

I really have no reason to post this except to say that I'm sick of limiting myself to what I post on here. I mean, lately it's become a free-for-all for me to publically battle my introspective demons and I'm kind of finding comfort in that. I need to unload and just the chance that someone will read this page is better therapy for me than bottling it all up as I have been more or less forced to do over the years. I mean, I could do the whole crazy-guy-who-argues-with-himself-while walking-down-the-street schtick, but I'd rather not. It's cold in Michigan in the winter and I don't want to deal with it or the malls (which would be my other option I guess). That and I'm lonely enough as it is.

In having a personal ad posted, I get a weekly e-mailing of "matches" to go through. If nothing else, it depresses the shit out of me because of what they all say their after in a guy. It depresses me because either their lying through their teeth and they don't really want what they're claiming they want, or I have somehow managed to live my life in total avoidance of women that feel this way. Here are a couple of examples taken from several "what I'm looking for" segments:

I want someone kind and intelligent who would treat the girl theyre dating like they would want someone to treat their sister/mother/favorite female relative. I know girls arent supposed to care about chivalry anymore, but I love small gestures that show respect. I need someone who can make me laugh and who can laugh at himself.

that's me

First, Honesty is the SO important. Ive been in not so honest situations before, and once that trust has been broken it never comes back. Second, I like someone that pays attention to details. Details are important! Also, HUMOR! I take pride in my sarcastic sense of nature, and would like someone that can appreciate (and keep up with!) my jokes/comments/etc no matter how ridiculous.

yup

I like honesty and humor the best - out of all the qualities i like in a guy, the ability to take AND dish out jokes, as well as be sensitive and truthful when necessary are #1 and #2 on my list. I highly value integrity in a guy - do what you say you are going to do.

uh-huh

The young man that I am searching for is sincere, romantic, honest and available.

Oh, am I ever!

Yeah, but anyway, you get my point. The e-mail included 10 ads and they all went on with that sort of thing, for the most part. Only one of them was honest enough to say that their man had to make more than $25k a year for them to be interested (the others claimed it didn't matter), and every last one of them stated that a sense of humor was important. I don't know, maybe personal ads are the last refuge of the romantics and therefore bring out the sappy types who, almost by definition it seems, never have any luck in the land of love, but I don't know, I can't help but think that no one knows what they want anymore and are sort of saying what people think they should say...or something like that. Everyone's caught up on these checklists of what love "feels like" and they feel they need to be able to go down and check off "humor" and "intelligence" and "big dick" and "nice car" and whatever it might be that they're looking for. No one even begins to understand what love is. I swear I feel like I'm the only one. But, alas, perhaps God just loves me more than everyone else. ;)

Maybe my "deal" in life is that I'm just too damn open...I make myself available to anyone willing to ask me questions. And maybe I'm too predictable or something and there's just no interest in asking those questions. I don't know. I'm just brainstorming here.

It just seems to me that the people that people are more interested than me are those that are more outwardly complicated, more layered, than me. I mean, I'm inwardly complex, no problems there, but it seems that people are more interested in "getting to know" other people than they are in just accepting people. Or something like that. Because I'm an easy person to accept, I think...it's hard not to accept someone that wears their heart on their sleave (or has a heart so big it doesn't fit on a sleave) the way that I do. There's really no questioning how I feel about anything, there's no "game" involved in guessing what I'm thinking, there's no real surprise to be found by anyone willing to dig down deep. I am who I am and people just see that and accept it and move on. "Oh, that's just Kyle" they'll say and then do their own thing, tying to figure out someone else.

At least that's the perception that I give off. There's a lot about me that absolutely no one knows...and I'd love to share with anyone that would listen, but everybody thinks that they have me all figured out. It's to a point where people feel comfortable in describing me in one or two words -- quirky or emotional or depressed or passionate are some that I most often hear -- and I'm not saying that I'm none of those things, after all, I think they all describe some aspect of me, but they are by no means the totality of my being. There are sides of me that no one has ever seen, sides of me that no one has cared enough to try to explore, and that, I think, is what leaves me feeling so damn lonely. People would rather try and figure out the damn fools who have obvious issues and turmoil in their lives (maybe because they'd rather try and deal with other peoples' problems than their own?) than try to admit to themselves that I am more complex than anyone that they have ever met before in their lives. I mean, I'm interesting for God's sake...but people keep passing me by because they think that just because I'll openly discuss most every "taboo" subject that there is, that I have nothing to hide or nothing of real substance in my heart or something. I do. Instead I try to weave those complexities into discussions where they don't belong and people just ignore me, I feel. I want so badly to expose myself to the world, it keeps me up at night wondering how to do it in a way that people will listen and care. I don't know.

I'm not bitching or anything about it, I'm just still on this search for the reasons why I feel so distant from the rest of humanity, why I spend my weekends alone, and why I haven't had a date in so long I can't even really remember when it was (btw, no one has replied to my personal ad...go figure).

Well, it's Saturday night and I'm home alone...no surprise there, nor in the fact that I was home alone last night too. Oh well. I did get one call to do something, form my brother to go to the bar...I'd rather stay home than go to that piss hole on a Saturday night. In sticking around, I was able to clean my room: I threw out a bunch of crap. Filled up the garbage cans out back so that the other three apartments are going to have no choice but to suck on their trash. Whatever I mean by that.

I was going to say something moderately poetic or something about one thing or another but by the time I logged into blogger here, I forgot what it was. c'est la vie.

Oh yeah, a nice guy story...For whatever reason today on the internet I came upon a listing of drinking games. Checking the rules for Asshole I suddenly realized that the game wasn't foriegn to me. I'd played it bunches of time. Then I remembered why I hadn't played it recently: The last time(s) I played it was with a group of people that I worked with and two of the guys were sleazebags. Every time they became president and the girls were lower down the totem pole, they would command them (as is the power of president in asshole) to take off their clothes -- either partially or totally. At that point, I would come to power myself (being a fine card player in my own right) if only for the purpose of being able to tell them to put their clothes back on...I couldn't stand seeing them sitting there topless (well, the booby-viewing being nice, the degradation and objectification got on my nerves -- oh the pains of having a conscience more powerful than hormones!). Anyway, I really enjoy drunken card games, but for some reason they always turn out like that and I am then not invited anymore because I'm "no fun". Maybe that's why I'm home right now.

<<...next day edit...>>

OMG, maybe I am no fun. Maybe in my attempts to be a good boy I am too anal about bullshit. I mean, there's absolutely no problem with drunken nakedness amongst friends, just like there's nothing wrong with making out with near-total strangers or whatever. I mean, life's about fun and fun can sometimes be a little raunchy and even a little regretful, can't it? I think it can. That toplessness thing I wrote about last night shouldn't have bothered me unless the girls involved were uncomfortable with it (and they weren't...one of them had a penchant for just taking all her clothes in mixed company for kicks -- they both did nude modeling for a local photographer) and they weren't. If anything, I should have joined them. But then maybe the thought of that made me uncomfortable and that's why I wanted them to put their clothes back on. Or maybe I'm just too fucking tense about things. I don't know, like in high school, I didn't ask very many girls out on dates because I took the dating thing too seriously -- like thinking that dating someone was the first step towards a life spent together rather than just a few hours spent together getting to know someone else -- as seriously as someone that is now my age is expected to take dating. I don't know, sometimes I feel as though I skipped being sixteen and went from being fifteen to being thirty. I don't know how much of that had to do with my parents' divorce at that time or what (I did blame them for that for the remainder of my teens and some of my twenties), but it sucks that I feel like I missed out on the more adult end of my childhood innocence. Romping around is something I've never done and now it's past that time in my life when I could -- and even though my conscience would have always prevented me from taking things too far (i.e. using women for sex), a little less anal retentivity about things could have meant far fewer date nights spent at home back then, and maybe a little more social suaveness now that I'm 26.

I don't know, I wish I understood myself, because right now all I want is for someone to understand who I am and embrace that and I just don't think it's fair to be wanting/needing that without first being able to do so myself. I mean, I love myself, and that's a huge part of that reciprocity thing, but understanding yourself is important too. I guess, I don't know. It's eleven in the morning and I feel like getting drunk...

I almost just got myself in trouble...I was flipping through the channels and came across a travel show on PBS talking about The Netherlands. I got excited because, frankly, that place is just so friggen amazing. (and then they looked at the Van Gogh Museum and I had a relapse and started to cry which is another story for another day). Anyway, so I get online and notice that Europe has dropped even more since last week and I found out that I could get a roundtrip ticket to Amsterdam for a lousy $340 (I also found out that it's actually cheaper to get on a plane in Grand Rapids and fly to Chicago and then onto Frankfurt or Munich than it is to drive to Chicago and do the same...wierd). That's after the taxes and everythng else. Three hundred and friggen forty dollars! I went through the whole procedure of ordering and almost hit the "confirm to get to the next page which will allow yo to REALLY confirm" button...but didn't. I need to figure out when I'll be able to go, if I'll be able to go while tix are still cheap, and then get my tax return back (which I found out will be a nice $900 or so...).

Every damn Spring this happens to me. Some little boys get super lustful for the ladies...this one gets it for the wandering (well, and for the ladies I suppose).

Oh boy, I almost can't wait for this one...

Rambo 4

There's nothing quite like making money off of tragedy and war is there? In any case, didn't Rambo 3 take place in Afghanistan too? I could have sworn it was being all deserty and Soviet troops running around and stuff. Anyway, I just thought I'd pass on this little bit of movie news to y'all.

Just checking in to see if anyone's put any comments in or something, but of course not...anyway, I was noticing how often I post to this damn thing....OMG, I need a life.

Crap.

Yahoo! News - Bananas' Days May Be Numbered, Scientist Says

I want to start a movement...I know it's all gay sounding and whatnot but I want all of my...okay...both of...alright, my one regular reader of this blog (hey there!) to join me on my quest. Each and every day you are to do five things exclusively for the purpose to brighten someone else's day. Not for your own pleasure or happiness, in fact it's better if it makes you uncomfortable or something, but completely selflessly. Preferably, this will be for a stranger, but something random for someone you know will work just fine. Hug someone at the mall, tell the gas station attendent she looks lovely, streak, act like an idiot in front of a group of mopey people, something, ya know? Anyway, it's something that I do on my own time, but I just want to suggest that everyone (or just you Tiger Lily...if you're the only one left...someone sign my damn comment boxes) do it...start something...enjoy life.

In between discussions of which people to blow up to itty-bitty pieces in which country Bush Declares Sanctity of Human Life Day.

How quaint...

I put up a personal ad the other night and no one's responded to it. I don't know why, I'd want me:

Im a nice guy, plain and simple. I believe that treating people right is my responsibility as a human being. Even though some people will take advantage of that, I havent let that change me at all. If anything, its only made me stronger. In any case, it has helped me to develop a sarcastic-cynical sense of humor that (usually) doesnt offend :) and has gotten me to a point where I truly appreciate the little things of life. I am smart, like to travel to far-flung places if only to people-watch in a foriegn park, like to read, watch movies, and (yeah I know -- its so cliche it makes me sick too) Sunsets. I love sunsets. Ive seen them all over the place and I never get sick of them.

p.s. the lack of apostrophes is not my fault, they take them out for some reason

No, you know what I need? (This kept me up last night) I need someone, or many someones, to tell me stuff about me that isn't "you're wonderful kyle" "you're amazing kyle" "you're an awesome guy kyle" "you'll find love someday kyle"...blah blah blah. I have heard that all my life and, frankly, it has given me a complex. I am not naturally a narcissist, I want to have my feet on the ground, but when everyone tells you that you're great and that they can't think of anything specific about you that's not wonderful, well, it kind of makes your head big. I'm not perfect, not even close, I feel that in my heart...but if one was to take everything that everyone ever says about me, you'd think I was. Shit, a stranger might think you were talking about the Second-Coming when people start talking about me. I don't know if that makes any sense, but it's ripping me apart. Seriously. I mean, it's one of those things that is probably opposite what other people want and wish for, but I don't care. It leaves me feeling like no one's ever honest with me because, frankly, if I were so damn perfect, I wouldn't be so damn lonely.

So hop to it...fill up my comment box all you crazy people that read this blog. I will seriously be thankful.

<<...edited to start the ball rolling...>>

Okay, so I'll start. My biggest fault that I face every day that I'm alive is my horribly wretched social skills. I'm not talking manners or anything here (generally impecable), but just my face to face interactions with people. I can never say what I want to say, letting myself get off track in a conversation is so pathetically easy to me. When I want to say something important, I almost never do just because something else comes up and I start going on on that and forget, until after the conversation is over, what it was I wanted to say. That and, just like when I write, I am uber-meticulous about my word choices -- I used to just say what came to my mind, but now (except when I'm drunk) I think about what I'm going to say and it creates these long pauses in my speaking that seems to bother the hell out of people. And then I try to break up the tension that that creates with a sudden joke or something and its taken the wrong way because of the fact that it doesn't belong in the serious conversation I'm trying to have.

Anyway, keep 'em coming (or start)...I'm sick of being perfect.

Fuck. Sometimes I hate that people that I care about read this blog, because I want so badly to leave the post I just made up. But I can't. I need to vent so fucking badly...so very very fucking badly, but I can't stand the thought of hurting my friends with words that could easily be taken wrongly. Oh well. I guess I'll sum it up again in a few short sentences:

A couple of months ago a friend of mine reminded me that if life is throwing me lemons that I should make lemonade out of them. I've been trying since then to do so. But today I realized why it has been so hard for me...lemonade is not just lemon and water, it needs a lot of sugar and the thing is, there isn't that much sweetness in my life which leaves the lemonade that I'm trying to make too tart to drink. I feel lonely, my weekends especially because no one calls, and I have so much frustration built up that I feel like I'm about to burst and I just need to talk it out. I need people to ask me how I'm doing and really mean it when they ask and be willing to listen to my answer whether they don't like it or not. I need people to be willing to hold me, hug me, let me lean my head on their shoulder and cry. I need to feel loved. I need people to give back to me what I give so willingly to them.

The original post (5 Decmeber 2003) --

A couple of months ago a friend of mine reminded me that if life is throwing me lemons that I should make lemonade out of them. I've been trying since then to do so. But today I realized why it has been so hard for me to do so...the thing is, lemonade is not just lemon and water, it needs a lot of sugar and the thing is, there isn't that much sweetness in my life which leaves the lemonade that I'm trying to make too tart to drink. I mean, I'd rather suck on the lemons than drink unsweetened lemonade. And that's what I'm doing. I think.

I mean, it's perfectly natural to be thrown lemons in life, and the fact that there is some sourness involved in living makes the sweet that much sweeter...but it's not natural to be not thrown any sugar either. At least, if it is natural, it's not pleasant and certainly worth griping about. But it's just that I don't feel as though I deserve it. I mean, yeah, I have a shitty job and am dirt poor. Yeah I'm single for the 26th year straight and hating it. Yeah I want to go back to school but can't seem to motivate myself to do so. I can deal with all of that and all of those things would make some fine lemonade if I had some sugar, but I don't have nearly enough. I try to get some, but no one's willing to give me enough. I mean, I need people to listen to me, let me uncork some of the frustration that I feel, but I don't feel that people are willing to listen to me. I need to hang out with friends in quiet places and just be alone and talk about whatever -- not just hang out at bars and shout from across the table. I need people to stop telling me how fucking wonderful I am and then turning around and giving me the cold shoulder. I need people to push me, hold me, love me. And honestly, although some try, no one seems willing to give enough. And I try to give them incentive by being there for them whenever they might need someone, and I hope that they care enough to return the favor when I need it, but they don't. Too often I feel as though I'm taken advantage of -- the kid in elementary school that you play with only because all your real friends are out with chicken pox or maybe because he has a cool toy you want to play with.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my friends dearly, but I just feel too damn lonely to really feel like they love me, or sometimes even like me. They don't call enough, and aside from a very few, rarely ever ask me how I'm doing except in the polite hello kind of way where you're always supposed to reply with "alright" or "good" or whatever. I mean, there are days that I want to answer with a "suicidal" but there's no way to say that. I'm too fucking polite to do that. And yet, I need to know that someone's there for me, willing to let me lean my gigantic head on their shoulder and cry if need be. I need that. I mean, for God's sake I'm human after all. But I can't. I can't just say "I need some help" because I have too much pride or something, maybe just because I'm afraid that they'll think me a freak for having problems...I don't know. But at the very least, I need people to listen. I don't feel that I have that. And it leaves me ranting on this damn blog with tears forming in my eyes as the result.

Joe Millionaire. I have to admit, I have hated all the dating/mate finding shows that have been on television to this point -- The Bachelor, Temptation Island, all of them -- but there's something about this show that has me hooked. Or, actually, a lot of things. I guess first off, I identify with Evan a lot. I mean, I'm not as good looking or anything (to think of a woman saying that I was attractive is foriegn to me), but there's something about the honest guy really looking for a girl that likes him for him that I identify with. That's not saying a lot I guess, since that describes quite a few guys, but I just see Evan as being a nice guy -- and there are very few of us around (I don't know any nicer than me, for instance...>>insert your own "God, he's honking his own horn again comment here<<). Seriously. I mean, it's hard to tell from television, but he seems quite sure of himself and seems to know what it is that he's looking for and that's damn cool and something that I consider myself to be. Like me, he's never been in a serious relationship because either he finds some serious flaw in a girl and decides, rightly I might add, to not persue anything beyond friendship, or the girl is so hung up on the typical girly vanity stuff (money, nice car, big dick, yada yada yada) and doesn't appreciate him for being the person that he is...

Okay, maybe I'm putting my own words into his persona, but it's just that I identify with him. Plain and simple.

But anyway, it brings me to appreciate the show and his desire to weed out the bad girls (especially Heidi) and try to find those with a true heart of gold. Exactly what I do. He's proven himself to not be totally hung up on looks, not hung up on girls that flaunt themselves excessively, and that's just like me. That's awesome. It's like when I watch him I see someone doing exactly, more or less, what I would do in his situation...and then I get to see the consequences good and bad. It's kind of encouraging or...something. I don' know. I'm just blathering.

But then there's a couple girls, or at least one, that seems to be really, really cool -- Zora. I mean, that girl's just awesome. When they were picking out dresses during the first show she stood to the side and was willing to take whatever was left over (or whatever the bitch Heidi didn't hog to herself). While the other girls were complaining about pitching hay, Zora was right in there. That's amazing. There aren't that many girls like that out there and he's lucky to have had one picked to be on the show. He'd have to be a damn fool not to pick her in the end. I see too many guys sit on their hands while amazing girls like that are throwing themselves at them and all I can think to myself is "I wonder when he's coming out of the closet" (okay, to be fair, when a guy passes up on an amazing girl it could be that he's gay or that he's a retard or in Love with someone else or just an asshole -- those four reasons, nothing else -- but it's my experience that they're usually gay and don't realize it). Oh well, we'll see how gay Evan is.

And finally there's the whole Heidi's a bitch thing going on which is hilarious. I love the way that FOX made her out to be so horrible -- or at least the way that they showed all the footage of her being so wretched...and of course the translation of her horrible French was icing on the cake.

But anyway, I'm supposed to be too highbrow and whatever to be watching shows like that so I should shutup now before I sound like I really like that show. Peace out.

I have seen the Sun set through breaking rain clouds over the Tetons, I have seen the Sun rise over the cloudless tops of the Smokey Mountains. I have seen the crescent Moon hang over the bottom-lit castle of Budapest from a boat on the Danube. I have watched the Sun kiss its mirror image over the waters of Lake Michigan and seen the Sun dance through the mist of Niagara Falls. I have seen a small boy give his favorite toy to someone less fortunate than he. I have seen the smile of a dying mother blessing me with her love for the rest of my life without her. I have witnessed selflessness and love and beauty all through my life and I know that I am blessed in having done so…and yet everything seems so empty.

I long to wake up in the morning only to turn my head and look into the eyes of a woman that I love and who loves me too. I long to be accepted for who I am, my faults all forgiven. I long to live in a world where peace is the norm and war ancient history. I long to see a place where there is no hunger, no hatred, no lack of need, a place where everyone is honest and true and happy. I long to see everyone treated as individuals rather than a member of this class or that, a place where those individuals are treated humanely and not exploited for the rest of us. I long to see a world free of hurt, full of love, and I long to feel the same way.

Poop. I just called my Springtime employer and found out that I'm going to start working in mid-February. That's a good thing in that I'll be making $15 and hour without relying on tips or whatever and will be able to get home by 4:30 every day (grandosity ovewhelming) and even work at night at the pizza gig to make even more money...but it means that I have to choose between Ireland and responsibility. Dammit. I hope there's at least a week or two break in the middle of my projects...that's when I got to go to Europe last time...

Damn the travel bug. I have spent some time this morning looking at ticket prices and, frankly, some of them are giving me a hard-on. I can get to Dublin for $250 or Budapest (my favorite town) for $450 and all during the somewhat reasonable month to travel in -- March. Not the best time, mind you, but not horrible either. That and Amtrak is having a "buy one get one free" sale on train tickets here...I might have to do the circum-continental train trip I've wanted to do for the last two years.

AAAGGGHHH!!!! If only I had the money.

<< looks suggestively at the panhandling box to the lower left...wink wink >>

Why do people deceive themselves so? I don't get it. I was reminded of a "thing" (I don't know what to call it) back in college where some students decided that they wanted to "know" what it was like to be homeless by sleeping one relatively cold night in a box on the school commons. By doing so, they thought, they would come to know what it's like to be without a home. All that they really learned was what it's like to sleep in the cold. They didn't know what it was like to not know where they were going to sleep the next night or the night after -- they knew they'd be warm and comfortable in their dorm-rooms. They didn't go hungry. They didn't suffer the scorn and humiliation that homeless people do (quite the opposite -- they were applauded by the community). They didn't feel the hopeless abandonment. All they did was sleep in a box in the cold and suddenly they felt they knew what it was like to be homeless. Bullshit.

The same thing happens to me all the time. My phone barely rings, no one inks me into their schedule, getting people to do things with me is like pulling teeth, and getting a girl to see me as "dateable" is more or less impossible. But friends always tell me that things will turn out okay, that they "know" what I'm going through. I have never had a girlfriend -- but people point to that three month period of their life where they were alone and say they know what it's like. pah! I have spent a week cooped up in my apartment with not a single moment of human to human contact and people jump to that night two weeks back where they sat in their room and ate popcorn and say that they can identify. hmph! I have been without a phone call for longer than I can remember and people try to equate that to four nights of loneliness. whatever. I have stayed in Paris for three nights of my life, but I wouldn't claim to know what it's like to live there. Why can't other people be that honest with themselves?

But now I'm bitching. It's just that it's hard to be a loser and have people try to tell me that I'm not...that I'm "normal". They have no idea what it's like to live my life. I have gone through more shit in my first quarter century than most people do in their three-quarter century lives. Seriously. And I have had good things happen to me, proportionately more than other people my age even (and I've seen things and done things that most people can only hope to dream about), but those good things seem so empty while I'm denied so many of the usual things -- financial stability, a girlfriend that loves me, friends who think of me before they think of their other friends, that sort of thing. I mean, I feel like a loser. I really do, and in all my analytical abilities, I don't think that that assessment of myself is that irrational. I really don't.

It's just that I feel so damn misunderstood. People like to throw labels at how I feel -- "you're just depressed" they might say -- even though I know in my heart that I'm not. I am an honest to God good person and all around nice guy, I swear, but people just brush me off as being "negative" or whatever. I am not. People take me for granted, I feel, treat me like I'm nothing but an old reliable to call in times of need. I radiate love, pure love, and it's seen as anything but. I don't understand why. I really don't. Why can't people just accept me for what I am? Why can't people just see that when I say that I care about them, it's not because of how they make me feel, but because I care about who they are? There's a big difference in that. There really is. I see all the time people, friends, choosing to spend their time with people that care about them only because they appreciate some vain aspect of their existence, leaving me sulking at home worrying about those same people and how their getting their hopes up that maybe this person or that really cares about them. They don't. They really don't. People suck, for the most part, and they will use you and abuse you because you make them feel good. They'll dump you out of their lives as soon as they find no use for you. That's the way that most of us are.

But I learned a long time ago that that's not what people are for. The people that I care about, I care about because I care about them. Most of them make me feel like shit from time to time, and if I were an asshole like so many, I would drop them from my life, but I don't. No one sees what that means. They dwell on my "negativity" and think that I somehow hate them. Bullshit. The only times that I am negative is when I really care about someone: really, really, really care about someone. I see them doing things that I know they will regret -- getting themselves involved with someone that's "using" them, getting themselves into a job I know will dissastify them, doing one thing or another that is so bone-headed I know in my heart that they will regret that they did it. People that I don't care about can do whatever they want -- some part of me wants them to fuck up and screw themselves -- I never say a damn word. I guess my criticism of others then is nothing but a sign of love -- even if it is seen as something else. I don't know. People don't get me, and no one seems willing to even try. Which of course leads to everything I said in the first paragraph or two -- abandonment and loneliness and people trying to say that they "understand" when they have no fucking clue.

But anyway, I just had a need to rant. Thank you for your time.

I have had a moment of clarity tonight and I have realized that I am being given the opportunity to right the greatest wrong, correct the most haunting regret, that I have suffered through all these years that make up my life. Then I made mistakes, but I am wiser now and of more pure heart, and I, by the grace of God, am being given a second chance to make up for my mis-steps. I wish I could be more specific, but I cannot, only to say that this fills me with tremendous hope and peace.

I have always said that I would take a bullet for my friends, and for my good friends, my best friends, I would suffer eternal damnation. Such is the power of Love.

But I don't think I can take it much longer. I just want it to end.

Yea! Stuff is showing up on my Blog as I'm posting it...finally. That was starting to piss me off.

I usually drink tap water when I go out to eat...mostly because I know that I drink too much non-water beverages. But now I have another reason, to screw over Coca-Cola. This pisses me off on several levels. First, people should be drinking MORE water, not less...but Coke would rather make profits than have healthier customers (shit, if they had healthier customers, they wouldn't sell so much...duh). Second, I hate it when companies force their emplyees to do something so stupid as take training classes on how to convince people not to drink water. I don't know, it seems wrong somehow. And finally, I really am disturbed by Coke's usage of the acronym/word/whatever of H2NO. That's just corny as all get out.

Coca Cola's Plan: Just Say No - To Drinking Tap Water

Guardian
Unlimited | Special reports | Poet laureate joins doubters over Iraq

CAUSA BELLI by Andrew Motion

They read good books, and quote, but never learn
a language other than the scream of rocket-burn.
Our straighter talk is drowned but ironclad:
elections, money, empire, oil and Dad.

Is this thing on? Seriously, if this blog is funky (I've posted a few things and edited another and nothing's showing up but in the archives), come back and read it later or something. Then again, this post is ridiculous because if Blogger's still being funky, this post won't show either. How stupid am I?

I spent a good couple of hours on Sunday writing e-mails to various restaurants and the like just trying to see what kind of stuff I could get for free. To some I wrote that I really liked their food and, always, that "I wish could afford to eat there more often". To others I made up sob stories about how I or my wife or my girlfriend or my kids got sick after eating there or how we were in a rush on New Years Eve and weren't able to get our leftovers or other totally fake and unprovable stories...I feel kind of like a jerk now that I'm getting some e-mails back. Oh well, I'll feel better when the gift certificates start coming in. I'm aiming for $600 worth. I'd feel bad if the places I was doing this to weren't corporate, but, ya know...

Sometimes when I'm bored, I read on-line personals. Having gotten out of work early, I've been doing that the last hour or so (since my last post). Anyway, I find it depressing as hell primarily because of the fact that everyone of those damn girls gives a description of "the perfect guy" for them, and I fit damn near everyone of them. I'm not being a narcissist or anything, but it's true. Almost every single one.

I don't know what that means. I have had "problems" develop from answering personals (and placing them) and I can't help but think that those that place them and answer them fall into two categories -- those just looking for friends and e-conversation (I fit in this group...mostly) and those that are psychotic. By psychotic I mean those that are so desperate for someone that they'll latch on to anyone that replies to their ad and not let go. You know, find out your phone number and call...find out your address and visit in the middle of the night...I don't need that. I really don't. But it sucks because I want to reply to one or two, just see what's up you know? But I can't. Some of those girls build themselves up to be nice, and some of them say things that I wouldn't think they'd say if they were 40-year-old men looking to trick some guy into a gay-to-them e-relationship, it almost seems like they might be for real...

But what it comes down to is the simple question of: if I were to meet some of these girls out in the "real world" or if any of them would meet me, would they recognize me for what I am (that being the funny, intelligent, sensitive, secure, caring, honest, trust-worthy, dependable, romantic, understanding, strong, responsible, blah blah blah...you know the drill...kind of guy they all "claim" to be looking for)?... nah. Half of them have probably already rejected me at some point in my life, or at least know someone who has.

Maybe I'm just too perfect... ;)

One of the stories that I've been working on in my head, and possibly to write down as a novel has a plot that includes a world where one company owns everything and runs everything too. That's not what it's about, really, but it is key to the story I want to tell about materialism and Love. However, I can't seem to be motivated when Wal-Mart goes and steals my ideas for fiction and turns them into their business model:

Wal-Mart getting into banking of all things

Fuck Wal-Mart

Next Week: Human Organs ready for transplant

I watched Joe Millionaire last night, and to tell you the truth, it wasn't as good as I thought it'd be. I was getting myself ready for a show where some very vain women would come to really like some guy because he was rich, and when they found out he wasn't rich, would get "upset". I mean, that's how it was advertised, no? But instead, I kept finding myself feeling uncomfortable about the situation, by the way that Evan was uncomfortable with this lie that he's telling, by the way that a few of the women don't seem to be obsessed with the money -- though they sort of mention it thinking that they should or something. I don't know. I think the whole show is just based on this culture of vanity that exists in the dating world where everything that should matter, doesn't and everything that shouldn't matter, does. The way we're all hung up on looks, charm, comfort, and all sorts of things that, when you get down to it, are nothing more than things that make YOU feel good about yourself -- Aldous Huxley wrote in Point, Counter-Point about "wardrobe" girls...the kind you go out with to look and feel good. That's what's everyone's obsessed with, whether it's finding a mate that makes them look good in the eyes of others or a mate that makes them feel good in their own eyes. It's all about self-satisfaction.

Oh well, I gotta go to work.

Front "It was a slow week at the White House. They needed something to stir the pot because nothing was happening in Iraq."

Democracy -- government of, for, and by the people and (if it's not obvious) concerned about that people's well being.

Plutocracy -- government of, for, and by the wealthy ruling class and concerned with that ruling class' interests.

Which do we have?

Yahoo! News - Group: Nuke Regulators Backed Off Plant WASHINGTON - The Nuclear Regulatory Commission could have shut down a nuclear power plant in Ohio several months before an acid leak was discovered but wanted to avoid hurting the plant owner financially, the agency's watchdog said Friday.

I'm just curious...does anyone but Miss Tiger Lily read this blog? I haven't heard from anyone else in a month at least. E-mail me or comment or something...throw me a frickin' bone here.

Carnival, topless beaches, and a government that cares more about helping out its poorest than about buying bombs and jets...what's there not to love about Brazil?

Lula to use defence funds in famine fight José Viegas, the new defence minister, said the purchase of 12 fighter aircraft would be delayed and funds used in hunger eradication projects, one of Mr Lula da Silva's top campaign promises.

Well, I took off the day from work with the excuse that it was "National Kyle is Awesome Day"...but I don't feel so awesome. Sitting in bed in my underwear, goofing on the internet, and otherwise not doing a damn thing with myself isn't my idea of awesome. But then, what is? At least I'm not working today. At least that's awesome. Radical even.

Merry Kyle is Awesome Day!

Wow, I need to add this book to my collection...Not because I didn't know, but because I agree completely.

The Basics -- Are you addicted to money? - MSN Money (from the article): We need to overcome what Slater wrote about in 1980 -- our addiction to "moneythink." We need to rediscover that life is about choices and experiences we create, not things we buy. In the book, Slater tells us that wealth addiction can take many forms -- money addiction, possession addiction, power addiction, fame addiction, spending addiction.

"An addiction," he writes, "is a need that is not only (1) intense and (2) chronic, but also (3) feels as if it were essential to our sense of wholeness. Addictions have to do with our feeling about ourselves: If you think you would feel incomplete, less of a person, or unable to function well without something -- even for a little while -- then you are addicted to that something."

I may sound like I'm depressed given the tone of the last few postings, but I assure you that I am not. There's just so much going on that concerns everyone else around me and it's just ragging on me like you wouldn't believe. I don't feel that I have anyone to turn to right now that isn't in someway going through tough times, whether outward or inward. I've probably even been a bit snippy with people, maybe a bit sarcastic or caustic even, and I hope that I haven't offended anyone or made them think I hate them or something. But I can only take so much without the negativity effecting me and I try to shoo it off with humor and cynicism. I just want to be happy and be happy with someone and be all giddy and stuff...but no one seems willing to put up with that shit right now. Oh well, hopefully things will change soon...that's the beauty of life: they always do.

Hehe...I hate WalMart, if only for the reason that with them in the environment, there is no chance, NO CHANCE, for anyone to ever start up their own business. The American Dream is dead. Or at least it will be when WalMart starts selling fine art, antiques, and everything else under the Sun (5-7 years?)

TIME.com: Can Wal-Mart Get Any Bigger? -- Jan. 13, 2003 Wal-Mart has 1,300 Supercenters, many of them converted from standard discount stores, offering everything from hardware to groceries and drugs. In some areas, it is placing these 180,000-sq.-ft. monsters as close as 5 miles apart. And in the spaces between, it's tormenting local grocery and convenience stores with Neighborhood Markets (call 'em Small-Marts). Wal-Mart is building its first urban Supercenter, in downtown Dallas. And without fanfare it is testing used-car sales alongside one of its Houston stores. "It's surprising how much room we have for growth," says Robson Walton, 58, Sam's son and the company's nonexecutive chairman. "I'm not trying to be flippant," adds Lee Scott, 52, Wal-Mart's ceo. "But simply put, our long-term strategy is to be where we're not."

Irony. I am at home right now, alone, while my roommate is at the bar. I am home, broke, while my roommate is spending money at the bar that he does not have while at the same time owing me one hundred dollars. I have $18 to my name until Tuesday so I cannot do go out or afford any such luxury, but he can. I find that funny. It's also funny that I don't even care. I could care less that he is spending money that I earned...at least he is having fun.

I am not bitching, far from it. I could honestly not care less. Whatever. I just think it's one more example of where my selfless and forever willingness to help others any way I can takes me.

Such is the life of the perennial nice guy.

Soulmate. I have found two potentials in my twenty-six years. The first was dating someone else when we met and when they broke up he was an ass and drove her to alcohol, drugs, and other material things and then into the bed of the guy who happily provided them when I, stubborn to my principles, refused to and I had to leave her life. The other was so hung up on other things going on in her life that she could not see that what she and I could have had was amazing and beautiful and true.

Physical attraction is fleeting. Good times are fleeting. So are comfort and kindness and intrigue. Romaticism fades. Stories of the past become old. Pain from old relationships wanes. Wealth deflates. Trinkets of affection gather dust. Crushes become tired. Good times move on and so do the bad. Tits sag and beer bellies form. Kisses become boring. Sex starts to lose appeal. Lust is only an illusion. Differences become annoyances instead of something to explore as personalities begin to clash. Fun becomes routine becomes agony. Such are the things of vanity.

A soulmate is someone that, when you look into their eyes and see their soul, you cannot tell if what you are seeing is them or your reflection. You think, you feel, you dream, you live, you express yourself, you are the same. You are two souls from one, severed by angels in heaven before being sent to this earth to seek each other out and become one again.

This is what I look for in those I date. Nothing more, nothing less. I look, I find, but I am denied.

I have always been a worthless conversationalist and I have always chalked that up to my shyness, but it occurred to me today that that might not be the case…I think it may have more to do with the fact that I generally have nothing to say, at least to the people that I’m talking to.

I lead a pretty dull life. On the typical day I wake up, go to work, come home and eat dinner, then watch TV or a movie or go to the bar or something. Everyday it’s the same thing and very little changes or happens at any one of those steps that is really worth talking about. If anything happens that is worth talking about, it almost always occurs while I’m with one of the very few people that I ever talk to, which of course means I’m just saying stuff like, “Hey, remember that one time…” and I sound like a stoner when I giggle or whatever.

The thing is, in conversations I am usually the listener, and I am a damn good listener if you ask me, and I even give advice that is 95% good on top of that when I’m asked for it (sometimes when I’m not asked…oops). I mean, I have helped people through deaths of loved ones, bad break-ups, shitty relationships, and “self-explorations” (you know, identity crises, faith crises, that sort of thing) or whatever you want to call them. I’ve been through all of that and I’m glad to share what I’ve learned in doing so and am more than happy to help my friends through those problems. Of course, by doing so, I tend to become the friend that people come to when times are bad and “fix them up” so that they can run off and play with others when times are good. That leaves me in a lonely place, I must say. One where nothing happens to me and so I have nothing to share and therefore no way to converse which makes me a boring as hell person to be around. It’s a vicious cycle, it really is.

But right now, everyone around me has problems and that leaves me really, really busy. My roommate is in love with a friend who doesn’t want to chance their friendship with a relationship and has now started dating another guy which has made him a morose mother-fucker lately. My best friend is obsessed with a guy who refuses to commit to her but is always begging for her time nonetheless, a request she cannot seem to say no to; and he's gone for a week so I'm trying to not get used to spending so much time with her lest it all starts up again when he gets back, but I really want to be able to get used to it which means I'm probably over-compensating and being an annoying ass-hole. Another friend is hopelessly in love with a married (with kids) friend of hers and has been for years on end now, and her married friend is at his breaking point wanting seriously to divorce his wife for her and she just wants to always have someone around her. My brother has been out of work for most of the last five months or so which leaves him in a desperate place. Another friend of mine just moved to Hong Kong from Shanghai and yelled at me while she was here for the holidays for never e-mailing her. That all means that I'm probably neglecting all of my other friends that I communicate with primarily by e-mail so I'm feeling like a dirtbag. My roommate, besides the girl problems, is broke and borrowing money from me and forcing our rent to be very late making me risk bouncing a check for him so he doesn’t have to pay the $30 late fee. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera…

My life is a soap opera, basically, but I am not a player in it. I’m the audience. But it’s an interactive thing and I get to be Mr. Helpful and blah blah blah. Of course, I don’t get the paycheck at all…I get to help people get into or fix up relationships, but I never get to be in one myself. I get to help people with money or advice, or whatever, and really never get much back in return. Hell, I have always had to beg for an ear to listen to me in my times of need and yet I lend my ear every chance I get. Never mind those times that I’ve been flat out broke or in love with a girl.

I don’t know, that’s all rather non-sequential, but it’s all on my mind. It just seems somehow unfair that I am always being the friend that does the hard stuff of friendships in helping out but never gets to partake in the good stuff when things are going right. You know? I mean, I am a good friend, I’m the kind of friend that I’d like to have, but very few people feel that way themselves. I don’t know why. I’d love to be the guy that friends take to parties, I’d like to be that male friend that my female friends want to make out with when they just have to kiss someone, I’d love to be told about exciting things happening in people’s lives…but all I hear is the ugly…rather than the good or the bad. Just the ugly.

But I should just shut up before I get myself in trouble. Because, as always, it’s a bit of an exaggeration on my part. A few people care enough to include me in their lives, to some extent, but never as much as I’d like. I think that’s fair to say. I don’t know why, but I think I tend to take all my friendships with people more seriously than my friends do…my being a “friend” to those I consider to be my best friends, an acquaintance to those I consider to be my friends, an enemy of my acquaintances. Hell, if ever anyone decides that I’m their best friend, I’ll be probably consider them my spouse; if anyone ever marries me, I guess that’d make me their God…or something. Okay, I’m stopping now.

Egads. That post that I wrote and then deleted the other night is really, really bothering me. I have it in my off-line journal now and it sometimes stares at me. The thing is, I hate it when I censor myself, I want to be honest and truthful with the world, but that damn thing is just so hurtful to my step-father that I can't keep it up...even if he never reads this thing...But it also seems to me to be very disrespectful of anyone on this earth that might be co-dependent at some level, and I really don't want to make them feel like shit just because my step-father turned my promise to my mother that I'd look after him into a big, fat lie just so he could get his jollies or whatever...see, I'm getting angry again. But, again, I hate not saying what's on my mind, I hate holding back, I hate not saying what should be said -- even if I know that I'm the only one with balls or who cares enough to say what needs to be said. Crap.

I'm really conflicted here, but I still think it best not to re-post it.

I thought of Thoreau's Walden tonight, and I want to post some quotes, all from the conclusion (which is a good, rather quick read for those that don't have the time or patience for his lengthy, though beautiful and poetic, ramblings) of his experiment at Walden Pond. All in all, I never feel better about myself and glad to be alive than when I read these words:

"Be a Columbus to whole new continents and worlds within you, opening new channels, not of trade, but of thought."

"It is remarkable how easily and insensibly we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves. I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door to the pond-side; and though it is Eve or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct. It is true, I fear, that others may have fallen into it, and so helped to keep it open. The surface of the earth is soft and impressible by the feet of men; and so with the paths which the mind travels. How worn and dusty, then, must be the Highways of the world, how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity! I did not wish to take a cabin passage, but rather to go before the mast and on the deck of the world, for there I could best see the moonlight amid the mountains. I do not wish to go below now."

"If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them."

"Some are dinning in our ears that we Americans, and moderns generally, are intellectual dwarfs compared with the ancients, or even the Elizabethan men. But what is that to the purpose? A living dog is better than a dead lion. Shall a man go and hang himself because he belongs to the race of pygmies, and not be the biggest pygmy that he can? Let every one mind his own business, and endeavor to be what he was made."

"Do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. Turn the old; return to them. Things do not change; we change. Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts."

"Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth. I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, and obsequious attendance, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board. The hospitality was as cold as the ices. I thought that there was no need of ice to freeze them. They talked to me of the age of the wine and the fame of the vintage; but I thought of an older, a newer, and purer wine, of a more glorious vintage, which they had not got, and could not buy. The style, the house and grounds and "entertainment" pass for nothing with me. I called on the king, but he made me wait in his hall, and conducted like a man incapacitated for hospitality. There was a man in my neighborhood who lived in a hollow tree. His manners were truly regal. I should have done better had I called on him."