An observation:

Driving down the street, a couple -- maybe in their forties -- are standing there on the sidewalk, holding each other. The woman's face looks as though she was crying, but her eyes have that odd look of restless comfort in them as she rests her head on the man's shoulder, he resting his head on the top of her head. They are motionless, arms wrapped around each other, seemingly unaware of the world about them.

As I posted earlier, Mr. Rogers died. He was a good man, better than any of us could ever want to be, for he actually made a difference with his life, and made the world a better place. But a local radio station, WGRD decided to take the news of his passing and say some very, very insensitive things about the man (that he was "creepy", a pedophile, and the like) and it really pissed me off. I wrote a letter (posted below), and I am honestly going to go through with my threat to discontinue listening to the station. I am only saying this because I am asking my few readers to join me in sending e-mails to this station thereby amplifying my voice (hey, I don't ask for much reader participation, do I?)...if you too feel that Mr. Rogers was a good man or that it is wrong to be so hateful towards to recently deceased. I would appreciate it. Thanks. The e-mail address of the program director is bduncan@regentcomm.com...his name is Bobby Duncan. Anyone wanting to call can call the business line at (616) 459-4111 or the toll-free studio line at 1-800-WGRD-979.

Again, thank you. This has me really pissed off.

My letter:

I just wanted to drop a line to say that I was sickened by the mocking of Mr. Rogers that occurred on your morning show this weekend. Fred Rogers was a good man, and he did much (more than can be expected of any human being) to improve the lives of children throughout this country. I for one, am a better person because of the life that he lead.

Even if someone does not agree with this, it is wrong by itself to mock so heavily a man that is dead for no more than a few hours. Your morning show staff should be ashamed of themselves, it is very sad that they lack all decency for human life as they do.

As such, I am no longer listening to your radio station. I am removing it from my car radio presets. I am also contacting your advertisers to tell them of my decision and why I am making it. You have lost a listener because of your staff's insensitivity and total disregard for human life.

Sincerely,
Kyle

Rest in Peace, Mr. Rogers. You were a good man.

There are a lot of things I wanted to write about today. For one, I wanted to write about depression because I am at a point right now that I am feeling comforted by talking about it, and I think it helps those that don't have direct experiences with depression to read those sorts of things from someone that does. I also wanted to write about a conversation I had at work today about people. I also wanted to mention something about the effort that is being made to impeach the war-mongerer. And I will get to these things, hopefully as the night goes on I will feel like writing still, but right now I wanted to say one thing about yesterday and the post that I wrote about depression.

Soon after I got off-line I called on my best friend and asked that she come over to talk. She was hesitent at first because of a quarrel we had the day before and because she had wanted to spend some time alone, but I explained to her that I needed to talk to someone, that I didn't want to be alone, and that I was depressed...and she came over. We talked a bit about what was going on in my head, about depression in general, and about pretty much what I wrote on my blog here yesterday. And then conversation moved on to chit-chat and hanging out and watching Seinfeld. It was incredible how quickly my spirits lifted. It's amazing how easily the thoughts of depression lifted away simply because I was feeling loved and understood and the like. And I must have thanked her for spending that time with me at least five or six times over the course of the night, and I would've thanked her more if I didn't know that that would've bothered her...but I guess I'm mentioning that because it goes to show that what I wrote yesterday is so true and something that anyone out there that has friends or family that suffer with depression should pay heed to. The most important thing you can do for someone that is suffering is to let them know that you care. It will work wonders. Love is magical like that.

Anyone that reads this blog or knows me in real life knows that I have "issues" with depression. Not many realize that, for the most part, I battle that demon on my own. It's not that I want to, necessarily, but rather that I have to because of the fact that I do not really know how to ask other people for help -- nor am I able to without feeling tremendously guilty -- and when I am feeling horrible enough to ask for help, people refuse. It's always something -- "I don't like seeing you depressed, Kyle", "when you're depressed, it makes me depressed", or some sort of "excuse" followed by an about-face and a race to the hills or as far away from me as they can get. No one ever seems willing to give me what I need at my most troubled hours: support. I don't know why.

I lurk around a few depression boards on the internet and read what others have to say, and I think it's definitely one of those things that many that suffer from depression most desperately need. True depression is faceless, it has no "reason" aside from the fact that God has, for whatever reason, decided to curse some poor soul with that demon. It is horrible to go through, horrible to know that even if you pull yourself out of one episode that it could very well jump at you a day, a week, a month, or years later. It's always there, and it's always ready to leer its ugly head, and it's at those times -- whenever they might be -- that a person suffering from depression needs their loved ones the most...and it seems that it's at that time that friends and family seem to distance themselves from the one suffering. It is a shame, it really is. I mean, I can understand the way that people would want to stay away from me when I am having an episode, I can understand their desire to run away from me even...God knows I understand, because when I'm having an episode I wish I could run away from myself. I do.

I don't enjoy hating myself and my life. I don't enjoy the inability to find any joy in my life. I don't enjoy the thought of having my friends and family brought down because I am down. I don't enjoy the feeling of total apathy towards everything or the dread of opening my eyes in the morning and getting out of bed. I don't enjoy wishing harm to myself. I don't enjoy wishing I had never been born. I don't enjoy feeling as though I am worthless, always have been, and always will be. I don't. I don't enjoy any of it...and not just because I have the inability to enjoy much of anything either, but because I know that there is only one way for a person to run away from themselves and that too is not something that I enjoy thinking about. But I do. And right now I can say that the only thing keeping me from wishing my own death is my faith in God and duty to honor. That's not to say that if God offered me a way out right now that I would hesitate in taking it.

I wish I could run away from myself. I wish I didn't constantly have to hear my own voice criticize me at every step. I wish I could refrain from being angry at myself. I wish I could just pack a bag and leave me behind...because the very fact that I am depressed depresses me even more. But support would take care of that. At least to some extent. But I don't get that. I get the opposite. I get criticized for being depressed...and that just makes it worse.

The one thing that I long for right now is someone that cares enough to give me a shoulder to cry on and a willingness to listen. All I ask for is someone that loves me enough to be willing to make the small sacrifice of their heart to show me that I am worth something to them. All I desire is to be treated like I'm worth something to someone and that there is hope for the future. All I need is for someone to do unto me as they know I would do unto them if they were in my place. But, for so many, asking for that is like asking them to lend me thirty million dollars. And that reaction makes things even worse because it doesn't seem to me that I'm asking for a lot...a hand on my frickin shoulder, an honest-to-God hug, a willingness to do me a favor, or even just a little time to talk about happier things. But when no one will, it makes me hate myself more.

Pavement expands from the heat, contracts from the cold. It swells and shrinks and swells and shrinks until it cannot handle it anymore. And then it cracks, splits, breaks, and develops a hole.

The same can be said for the human heart.

It occured to me the other day that there are an awful lot of people out there with #3's plastered all over their trucks and cars in memory of the Nascar driver Dale Earnhardt that died during a race some time back. An awful lot. More than I have ever really noticed before...maybe one out of every hundred cars or so. That's really nice. I think it's good that people have a passion for someone outside themselves, someone that they can consider a hero, someone who -- in their passing -- they miss enough to share their grief with the world. It's good to identify with someone else, to cheer someone on, to care. But then, I thought, he was a race car driver...not a hero.

That's not to say that I mock his passing or tease his fans who grieved his untimely death. It's not to say that I do not find sorrow in the death of any soul that once walked this earth. It's not to say that I am trying to cheapen the man's life in anyway, I mean, the guy was the best in the world at the one thing he loved to do more than anything else, and for that I envy him...but something is uneasy about all the fanfare years later.

It occurred to me that I have yet to see a bumper sticker honoring the seven Discovery astronauts who perished in their attempts to further mankind through exploration and scientific discovery. I have never seen any sort of enduring public display of sorrow over the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, the last great proponent of peace in the Middle East. There are no mentionings of the lone man that stood in front of the tank in Tienamen Square. No thank yous to those that have died or put their lives on the line to change life on this earth in some grand and glorious way.

No, we forget all of them...but we remember some guy who drove a car around a big circle real fast. Where are our priorities? Remember Dale Earnhardt and TuPac Shakur, but who the hell are Mother Theresa and Roger B. Chaffe? I don't understand, and I don't think I ever will, and if people want to yell at me for thinking this way, go right on ahead...I don't care. But it saddens me. It does. And it pisses me off that I can't understand it no matter how hard I try. Oh well.

Paranoia: Your patriotic duty.

I finally got some sleep. I had to skip work to do it, but I got some sleep and now I feel pretty damn good...except for the fact that my lungs and sinuses are congested as hell. But I can live with that. At least my fever broke. la la la *cough* *hack* la la *cough* la.

Maybe I got Ebola...

So I spent the entire evening last night thinking I was going to die. Seriously. I had a fever that got up there (I don't know how high, but the fact that I was as cold as I was says it was up there), I could barely walk, I was hacking, I was miserable, and I, for the life of me, could not get to sleep. Yes, I felt like I was dying. It sucked. I feel a little better now, but no where near 100%. At least I'm only coughing every now and then, and I can walk, and I'm not shivering in my eighty-degree bedroom. Oh well, whatcha gonna do?

I would have posted this last night, but, like I said, I was dying. The thing is, I was trying to take a nap after getting out of work last night when the phone rings. I pick up. "Is Kyle there?" "This is he." "Hi, this is Laurie from T-Mobile, did you lose a cell-phone?" Holy Crap! Someone turned in my cellphone. I guess it did fall out of my pocket somewhere on the street and someone found it and brought it in...of course, in the meantime it looks like a couple of cars ran over it. But that is friggin' sweet. I had figured the thing was gone forever, that somebody found it and was using it. But no, there are good samaritans out there in the world. There really are. And that has done as much to bolster my faith in humanity as the thought of someone not turning my phone in destroyed that faith yesterday. I feel better now.

Except for the feeling of death looming over my shoulder.

Oh, oh oh...I remembered what I wanted to say about Joe Millionaire last night but forgot and wrote the same damn thing that I've written over and over and over again and can be read by anyone with a computer and internet connection of some sort by going through my months of archives...

I just wanted to say that Zora is frickin hot, if only because of the fact that after she stepped off a private jet in Sothern France to be with a guy who, for all she knew, was worth $50 million...all she cared about was a rainbow. A rainbow! Not the money, not the guy, not the cameras or anything else...just a rainbow. Incredible. That's so amazing. And then she asked Evan if she could kiss him instead of just assuming she could or doing so...friggin sweet. Where are these girls? Do they exist outside of my television tube? I need to get me one.

But, at least, I'm not the only one anymore to be a freak like that.

First, I wanted to apologize for my drunken post of last night. I'm going to leave it up because I think it's hilarious the way I wrote, but I still wanted to apologize.

Second, I wanted to add something about Joe Millionaire and much it was good to see...but I forget what it was exactly that I wanted to say. Perhaps it was that it has given me a little bit of hope that others are capable of seeing love the way that I do, since both Evan and Zora seem to. But like I said last night in my drunken rambling, I do envy the two of them...not for finding each other (with the help of commercial television no less!) but both being able to recognize and accept the possibility of true love when it did present itself. Evan didn't pick the easy route of faux-love with Sarah and Zora didn't let the uneasiness of their "relationship" stop her from saying yes. Bravo. Well played guys, well played.

Third, my new found hope for humanity that came with the ending of Joe Millionaire got me through the day today...but that all went out the window when I lost my cell phone. I don't know where it is. I must have dropped it on a delivery. I tried to call it, I retraced every single last step I took since I had it last, but it's no where. Undoubtedly, someone found it and instead of doing the right thing and going through my numbers to the "home" number and dialing it, they've decided to keep it. Of course this means that I had to suspend my number and am going to have to buy a new phone and be without my link to the world for a week or so. I don't even know any of my friends' or familys' numbers (yeah, I'm stupid for not having a backup list). Human Beings suck ass.

Fourth, I realized just now that I haven't given a shout out to Miss Tiger Lily at all recently, so I better since she's probably getting upset by the lack of them (plus, between you and me, I think she gets a kick out of them)...so: Yo yo yo, wassup? Tiger Lily in da House, whoop! whoop! whoop! a'ight?

There are lots of reasons why we should not throw ourselves into a war with Iraq, and I'm going to list them. If anyone wants to argue with me, please do so and I will list even more reasons:

1. There is no reason to attack Iraq. Simple enough really. All we got is suspicion that there might be something, not even enough really to convict someone of a crime here at home, certainly not enough to bomb the hell out of millions and millions of people. The fact that so many countries officially oppose a war in Iraq only strengthens the idea that there is not enough evidence -- it is a hung jury of the international community of our peers. Problem is, our administration thinks we're better than the rest of our peers and therefore above the law. So we'll lynch 'em if they won't allow us to convict.

2. In some ways related to number one, our standing in the world community is at stake here. Do we act civil and allow our differences to be taken care of through legal means of diplomacy, or do we act as the world's largest rogue nation -- dodging international law, ripping up treaties, threatening other nations, disrespecting human rights, etc -- and start to become treated as such by the rest of the world?

3. There will be retaliation. In direct proportion to the number of bombs that we drop on Iraq, should we invade, acts of terrorism against the U.S. will increase. Not only will our invasion be seen as "evil" by militant Muslims of the Middle East, thereby creating more hatred which could lead to more people being more willing to die to "defeat" us, but it will also take away from our ability to protect ourselves here...after all, I've heard many reports about how upwards to 25% or more of many police and public safety depratments are being called up to the Reserves...leaving our communities less protected than they were.

4. At no time in history has our democracy, or any democracy outside of the U.S. that I can think of, ever invaded another soverign country as a pre-emptive strike for something that they might do in the future. Our fearless leader would like us to believe that there is a danger presented by Iraq that must be nuetralized now because there's a possibility that something could happen somewhere down the road. This is a 180-degree turn from the Roosevelts, Lincolns, McKinleys, Polks, and every other wartime president during our nation's 227 year history and a very, very bad precedent to set. To invade another country pre-emptively is the sort of thing that the Soviet Union or, oh, let's see, Iraq would do. Go ahead, look through a history book and try to find a "good guy" country that's attacked without being attacked first.

5. The U.N. believes that one million or more kids may find themselves knocking on death's door as a result of malnutrition that a disruption in the supply line cased by war would bring. This does not include the 15-20 million people who would have little or no access to clean water, the millions more that would be made instant refugees, and the thousands or millions of innocent civilians that would die as a direct consequence of our military action.

That's enough for now, I may come back and do some more. I know that I have left out some good reasons -- like it isn't right to be attacking another country just to avenge your daddy's pride or oil (take your pick) -- but, in the end, those sorts of things (although probably true) don't further the discussion and debate.

I'm ads drunk as I've b een in a long time without passing out, so bare with me if I'm a bit fuzzy (or if my typing ain't up to par)...

I just want to say that Joe Millionaire kicked my ass back to the stone age tnight because I was honestly expecting Evan to pick Sarah. I wanted him to pick Zora, don't get me wrong, but I hoinestly thought he'd choose Sarah because, after all, we live in a world where instant gratification is king and true love is just a mirage. I would have cried at the end except for the fact that my tear ducts are, I think, dried up and unwilling to produce a single drop. My crying lately being more like the dry heaves... In any case, I think it's amazing that Evan picked Zora because, frankly, people just aren't apt to recognize that true love sort of thing these days. They really aren't. But he did. THat's frickin' awesome and I envy the hell out of him because had he not chosen Zora I would have hunted her ass down and told her about me and she would have loved me...no strings attached. But that's okay. Seeing two people that are so frickin' awesome together is alright by me because it helps me realize that there's hope for me. If only a sliver. But, man, I envy Evan...to find someone that he can connect with at such a soulful level who is willing and open to accpet and appreciate that connection is something that I've been missing my entire life...I wish I had that. I really do. Too many times I've had that sort of thing go on without anything come of it...my coming out of it lonely and hurt. But I'm bitching or something. I don't know.

Anyway, back to the crying thing, I think I'm going to rent a movie like What's eating Gilbert Grape or something that makes me ball my eyes out because I need to cry. I have so much to cry about and it's killing me that I can't wet a few tissues with my salty tears. I'm afraid though that I'm going to go bit overboard but that's okay considering or something. I don't know. Like I said, I'm drunk as a skunk sprayin' a monk so I should just shutup before I wake up tomorrow realizing that I've said something that I didn't really want to say in such a public place. Whatever. Dude.

I go to work today and there's no work to be done and so I got to sit around and twiddle my thumbs for four hours before I could go home for the rest of today and tomorrow. I only mention this because it is the way my life seems to be going in general lately. Like I'm waiting around impatiently for something to happen and nothing does.

In case anyone is wondering what my post was about last night it was a two-thousand word ranting on the people of my alma mater and how they irk me so. I was going to post it, but didn't. I need to stop posting such vitriol that solves nothing and does nothing but make me look like an ass. Oh well.

I wanted to scream...but I shouldn't. I must stop posting while emotional. It is not good.

Suffice to say, I am crying myself to sleep tonight.

good night.

I don't know what to say.

I don't know what to do.

So I will say,

I will do,

Nothing.

I just got back from seeing the movie Chicago and I wanted to say that I thought John C. Reily was incredible. Of course, I'm a huge Paul Thomas Anderson fan which makes me a fan of Reily too...but I thought he did an amazing job with a character that I identify with very closely. So I figured I'd post the lyrics to his big number, Mr. Cellophane (because I relate with the idea):

If someone stood up in a crowd
And raised his voice up way out loud
And waved his arm and shook his leg
You'd notice him
If someone in the movie show
Yelled "Fire in the second row
This whole place is a powder keg!"
You'd notice him

And even without clucking like a hen
Everyone gets noticed, now and then,
Unless, of course, that personage should be
Invisible, inconsequential me!

Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...

I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...

Suppose you was a little cat
Residin' in a person's flat
Who fed you fish and scratched your ears?
You'd notice him

Suppose you was a woman, wed
And sleepin' in a double bed
Beside one man, for seven years
You'd notice him

A human being's made of more than air
With all that bulk, you're bound to see him there
Unless that human bein' next to you
Is unimpressive, undistinguished
You know who...

Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...
I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there
Never even know I'm there.

Hope I didn't take up too much of your time.

Dolly is dead of a disease more often associated with an older sheep -- particularly one of the age of the genes that she would have gotten from her mother.

Three cheers for cloning -- hip hip, hooray! hip hip hooray! hip hip hooray!

I wanted to thank my readers for their kind comments that they posted about my post of 24 hours ago. I take them to heart. I mean that. Thank you. But in any case I wanted to share with you a short that I wrote a few years ago about the sort of feelings that I am feeling right now. Of course, I must add that it was written at a time when I was obsessed with Arthurian Legend:

Galahad

I am Galahad, a knight of virtue in a land where no grail is to be found, unable to slay the modern beast. The grail was forever lost years ago but I, unknowing that it was destroyed, continued my quest for an unfindable find. For years I searched, for years I sacrificed, no one telling me that I was doing so in futility. None can be blamed for my ignorance – it was my own curse, the product of my keeping my expedition a secret I shared only with God.

Years were spent training for my inevitable failure, spent cleansing myself of sin and protecting myself from being dirtied by the shit of the world. I kept myself pure, I kept myself free from material want. I was indeed up to the task, but the task was not to be had.

No, instead I wasted years preparing for failure rather than dealing with the reality of this world. I kept my eyes ahead and above, never learning how to tread the Earth as it is. Instead, I must now unlearn virtue, unlearn chastity, and begin a new walk running to catch up with the world as it left me behind. I must learn how to hate, I must learn how to sneer, I must learn how to love those who do not love me in return.

I am Galahad, most adored of Camelot’s sons, lacking the strength of my father Lancelot and the temperament to gain the hand a sweet princess. I fear the dragon, I fear love, I fear that I will not be able to contend.

A few things of note tonight:

I delievered to a home tonight and while the father was paying a little seven or eight year old girl giddily ran to the door and said "hello pizza man" and I said "hi!" as I always do to the kids. Then she said "Happy Valentine's Day!" and handed me a little mass produced valentines day card like they trade in elementary school. I got a big smile, said thank you, and frankly got a little bit choked up. My eyes started to tear a little bit. It was the best tip of the night.

Later, or maybe it was before then, I was driving down the road and saw a steeple on a hill bathed in the crimson light of the setting sun. Beautiful, sheer beauty. And I thought to myself, "it's so wonderful to be alive"...a thought I haven't had since September 10, 2001 while driving down a street canopied by hundred-year-old oaks and maples. I just hope tomorrow does not bring what that night loomed over.

Third, I could really go for some sexual intercourse right about now. But I say that only to be a sleaze snd to make myself chuckle.

Okay, so I added some stuff for you kids to fiddle with and learn from including a public service thing which should keep you up to date on the current terrorist threat color code thingy. But also I added, just above the picture of Mr. Ashcroft to the left, a rate my blog thingy. You know, just so that you can show your appreciation for me. ;)

I was reading Wil Wheaton's blog and finding that, in a lot of ways, I'm going through the same struggles as him right now in my life. That said, I was reading around and finding that there are a lot of people out there feeling the same way. More than usual, methinks. And so I came across the This Modern World cartoon that I posted below and it really spoke to me. It's not necessarily the politics of current events that are getting me over-worked and tense, but everything. Literally everything. Barely a thing happens to me lately that I don't allow to affect me emotionally. I don't think there's much room left anywhere inside for things to just slide off...like there's so much mass there that it has created its own gravitational pull that just sucks in everything that passes by. Or something. I don't know. But I do take comfort in finding out that there are others (more others than usual) dealing with this sort of outrage overload or whatever you want to call it.

I guess it just goes to show that these are troubled times in which we live.

I have been writing a lot of short stories lately about my love life and, well, lack thereof and I think I am brutally honest when I write them -- at least when I'm done and I read them I don't feel as though I've been dishonest with myself. The thing is, I honestly don't understand why I am so alone, and always have been more or less, in that department. I am a good guy. I don't understand.

It's not that I haven't met a ton of people, including available girls, in my life. It's not that I'm needy or impatient or creepy or anything like that. It's not even that I'm ugly -- I don't think so at least, though I know I'm not "hot" or whatever -- or talentless or unromantic or gentlemanly or the like. I mean, I don't have money or any of those vain things, but I'm not interested in girls who are and I have met plenty that aren't. I just don't get it.

But I read the stories that I write and I see one thing in common. They are all based on one "relationship" or another that I've had or tried to have and they all seem to involve the fact that, well, girls don't know what they want...or at least they don't know it when they got something good right in front of their faces. Or, maybe, that they don't care.

I mean, I'm a knight in shining armor, a prince, a gentleman and scholar, a cowboy in a lot of aspects, but I'm also a ghost. A shadow. Invisible. It's as if I'm seen as asexual or something. Like an angel in Dogma -- without gender. Perhaps I'm an ogre. The idea of Kyle as a boyfriend seems as appetizing to the woman's palate as a dog's tapeworm infested movement. I don't get it. Every time I try to show myself in that light I am shoved aside either completely or into the role of acquaintence or friend.

Don't others, females in particular, want someone that will be faithful, someone that will be true, someone that will be honest, sentimental, sensitive, compassionate, romantic, and the like? Don't others, like me, look for someone that they could love and be loved by through the good and bad, thick and thin, sickness and health -- someone that can laugh with them through the good times and carry them through the bad? Don't others look for someone that would be a good parent for their kids, a good son-in-law for their parents, a loving spouse for themselves? Doesn't anyone want someone that they can understand and someone that understands them? Don't women want a best friend in whom they can confide anything and everything and someone that is willing and able to confide his deepest secrets in them -- all the while each of us knowing that even our most embarrassing secrets will never push the other away? Don't others find comfort in knowing that there's someone there that would without hesitation die for them if need be? I mean, these are the things that I look for and the things that I have found in a few different girls in my life. I fear that I am lucky in having met a few -- as that would suggest that my luck will at some time run out.

But every time I have met a girl like that, she has kept me at arm's length or ran away completely. Every time I have met a girl with whom I could have all of the above questions answered in the affirmative, things have not happened. Not necessarily because I didn't try, not necessarily because she was already involved with someone else, but just because. I don't know why.

I fear that it's because I'm a dinosaur, not hip enough anymore to be accepted in this world. My ideals outdated, my points of interest buried too deeply to be seen through MTV-hypnotized eyes. I fear that I have killed my chances by having my own personality instead of stealing one from a rock star, movie stud, or artist. I fear that having "old-fashioned" feelings and being a good person has been steam-rolled by Cosmo and post-modern ideals of self-indulgence and instant gratification. I fear that no one believes that Love is something that can (or, for that matter, should) last forever anymore. I fear that people are infatuated with the idea that love is in the moment, not something eternal.

Though it all leaves me with plenty of fodder to write story after story after story about the subject and the joyous ability to go looney with the monotony of it all, I wouldn't think twice to give it all up to no longer be lonely.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

</sarcasm>

Some random links and quick thoughts about them:

I can think of so many better reasons to ban Perrier than sophmoric retaliations.

If we're really this paranoid, the terrorists have already won.

I wouldn't have very many reasons to know which side most people tend to kiss on.

W.'s so desperate for an excuse to invade Iraq, he'll mislead the nation to do so.

Oh those witty and romantic (valentine's gifts???) right-wingers.

I'm reading Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five and there's a line that I'd like to quote:

"Billy now shuffled down his upstairs hallway, knowing he was about to be kidnapped by a flying saucer"

I guess that it's just that I feel like I too am walking through life right now, coasting, though I feel as though something is about to happen. I don't know if it's something good or something bad or something that won't really change anything, but I just have this sense that something is about to happen. I don't know if I'm dealing with it though. It's weird. I wish I knew what it was, I wish I knew how it was going to affect me, I wish I could somehow help it come about because, frankly, I feel my nerves are becoming frayed. I hate that feeling. I am generally a very patient person, at least more tolerant of the wait than most people, but sometimes you just want to get to the end game right now where at least you know what's going on, you know? I don't. I really don't. I mean I do know what I'm saying, but I have no idea what it is that I'm talking about. If I go by my dreams lately, I have some sense, I guess, but still there are so many things going on -- or about to go on -- that I don't really know what's going to happen or whatever.

It's not that I'm complaining or anything, not even crying "why me" or that sort of thing. It's something that I think that most, if not all, of us human beings go through. It's just that that line really spoke to me. I knew exactly what Billy was feeling...I'm feeling it right now.

Now go about your business.

And please, people, sign my guest book or put comments or something. I'm feeling like I'm talking to a wall here.

I know I should comment on Joe Millionaire tonight, but there's not much to say that I haven't said already. I still think that Evan will choose Sarah even though I hope I'm wrong. I mean, there's a glimmer of hope in that he said that he "connected" with Zora -- even though he couldn't explain it -- which is one of the most important things in love, but I think that he, like most of us human beings, will end up going for the easy, already assembled relationship with Sarah...even though it would be doomed from the start in my opinion. I mean, hey, who among us hasn't passed up on something real for something that just made us feel good? Maybe I'm just too cynical lately when it comes to relationships. I guess I am just in a place where no one sees eye to eye with me on them or something, or no one seems to. That seems to be going around though so maybe I will just drop it...

Anyway, I just wanted to mention that I just found out about a job that I'm gonna be applying for. It's in publishing (which would be in my top five fields I want to get into) and it pays reasonably well ($23k) for a job that consists of 24 hours of flex time a week. So amazingly perfect for me. I could work three days (or four or five short days), make my living, and then write and do whatever else the other four days of the week. My goodness, it's giving me an erection just thinking about it...

...I don't know why I just said that. Oh well.

Wow, the nicest thing about my new job is that it doesn't afford me too much time to think for myself. Between having to semi-concentrate on what I'm doing and taking short little ten minute naps there just isn't the time that I've had to think. mmmm...soma.

I had a computer scare tonight, but it turned into a headache and not much else. I was trying to download an updated version of McAffe virus program and it froze up my computer so that it wouldn't continue working past the point where it started doing a virus scan at start-up. I couldn't fix it any way that I know how and so I ended up having to reload my windows platform and pray that I didn't need to format my hard drive. It was nerve-racking those thirty minutes or so in wondering if the stuff that I'd written and hadn't backed up on a floppy disk for a couple months (several short stories, a few poems, and a good 10,000 words on my book) was going to get dumped with the rest of the programs that I knew were going to be deleted. They weren't, thank God, but I still needed to re-download abunch of programs which has taken an hour or two already and will probably take another hour or two...so that sucks. But three hours or so is a hell of a lot better than having to rewrite all the stuff I could have lost. Man, that was close.

...but at least the whole loading kick that it got me on motivated me to finally dump MSN as my ISP; something I've been meaning to do for months but couldn't because I was under contract (since they bought me a TV, VCR, and a few movies). Yippee! Celebrate! Woo-hoo!

The things I do for friends. It was the faux-birthday night on the town for one of them last night and it sucked. I knew it would. It always does. No, it didn't suck because I had to spend time with her or anything like that, but because we always visit those last corners of town that I would never want to by my own volition. Last night it was to a meat-market dance club where I felt not so much like a fish out of water, but more like a fish flopping around in the middle of the frickin' Sahara. Egads. I walk in and all of a sudden the song "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead starts playing on an endless loop in my mind as I look around and see all sorts of people who are dressed to undress and wookin pa nub (Old Saturday Night Live reference for y'all) -- identified in their own minds as little more than a platform for genitalia. Hoochies and assholes crowded the floor, trying to impress each other with their individual fakenesses mass produced and sold in bulk at the mall (hey, maybe they should all meet there and save the middle man?). All the guys look the same with their greasy little boy crew cuts and khaki (I thought they went out with swing?) pants, button up shirt or something of the sort all looking the same. All the girls look completely different, but in the same way of over-done hair, newly painted-on faces, and clothing, top and bottom, that reveals as much as they legally can in a conservative town unlikely to turn a cheek at public indecency. They strutted around in packs of same-sexness all with a look of determination on their faces. No one was having fun, they all looked as if they were working, and they were. They were working at fitting a mold brought to them by the likes of MTV, the Gap, and countless glossy magazines -- trying to be "normal" by being "different" through mass-market means...if that makes any sense. The guys, looking for a warm pocket to rest inside of for the night, the girls looking for love by letting some guy do so. Because, hey, that's what life's all about eh?

It all made me sick, but I stayed there for an hour and a half or so and it nearly made me go mad I had to eventually skip out and go to a sane bar just to counteract the taste in my mouth. Next year I'm planning friend's birthday for her.

Oh, by the way, my brakes came to $490 so if anyone feels any pity for me, they can throw their change to the panhandling box on the left of your screen. Thanks. ;)

Man oh man oh man...So I get home from spending a nice night at the bar talking with a friend and I turn on the television to the news. No big whoop. But the story that I turned to was this thing on a speed-dating night (you know, where people talk for three minutes and then move on to the next person) that was held at a local bar tonight. The first thought that entered my head was "I wish I would have known about that..." What am I thinking, what am I doing? Gott im himmel! Why would I think that, that is so not me. I am so not the kind of person that could talk to a person for a lousy three minutes and even pretend to think that maybe I'd go out with them or anything of the sort. Granted, I can honestly say that within two or three minutes of meeting someone I can rule most bad seeds out, no problem, but to think that I thought that such a thing was a good idea for me is ridiculous. Even if it was only for a moment and in a total lapse of judgement.

I mean, I had just got done talking a little bit about how people are too hung up on the superficialities of feeling good about themselves in relationships and how I'm one to feel that true feelings develop over time and not in a rushed scenario that people put relationships into these days and here I let that dirty little thought enter my brain. Sometimes I worry myself. I mean, I honestly believe that 99.9% of people in this world are misguided in love -- they look for someone that they feel comfortable with, someone that makes them feel good, someone that at that moment in time makes them giddy or whatever -- and that is exactly what this speed-dating thing plays upon. I know that there is so much more to love than thinking that my penis would feel real good inside that woman's vagina or that this woman likes to talk about the same things that I do or that that woman is someone that I should appreciate for being such a good girl or whatever, but I fell into the trap that society has laid, even though it was just for five seconds max, and I feel like I've betrayed myself as a result. My goodness, I mean, I'm looking for a real connection with someone at a sub-persona level that isn't just about the time and space that we find ourselves in but about the ages...someone that understands me, someone that can relate to me, someone that is like me and always will be because, let's face it, if I ever find someone that will accept me for who I am I better be damn sure that she will be with me until I'm eighty-six or older -- even through the rough times -- because I'm not going to be that guy that marries three or four women because I thought we got along swell while everything was going fine in my life. How the heck can someone even begin to approach any notion of the possibilty of that level of closeness in three mintues? THREE MINUTES!!! I know people that have spent twenty years together (my parents, most of my friends' parents, etc.) before they realized that they were not all that alike and that the nice talks and romps in the sack were nothing more than nice talks and romps in the sack -- not any kind of indication that they were soulmates or whatever but that they were not unhappy (maybe even happy) at some time with the way things were going and they didn't see how that would ever change. Three minutes is no time at all to be judging someone on how well suited they are to being with someone for the rest of their lives. Limit yourself to three minutes, or even three months or three years in some cases, and you'll probably pass up the good ones and end up going out on a real date with a schmuck. God knows that nobody's ever liked me after only three minutes of conversation and so any of the luckless ladies that would have passed me up on the timed date thing would've already judged me and passed me up for undateable...and would never really realize that they passed up a good guy for a good conversationalist, snazzy dresser, or a guy with a big bulge in his pants but a not so good a guy.

Whatever. I get worked up about the stupidest things...

A couple of things tonight.

First off, I am really annoyed right now that I have a roommate. For four years I lived alone and could just be naked all day if I felt so inclined...you know, step out of the shower, make a sandwich, and pop in a movie without the nuisence of having to waste time putting clothes on. Lately I've been missing that, you know, just being naked -- not necessarily to do anything in particular in the nude, just to not wear clothes. It's freedom at it's greatest.

Secondly, I heard a good joke on Comedy Central tonight told by a comic complaining about how he's too nice a guy (gee, that sounds familiar...). He said: "I've spent my whole life trying to not make women into objects but all it leads me to is making objects into women." That's funny ha-ha.

Third, today I figured out why I've been rooting for Zora on Joe Millionaire -- it's because I'm her. The nice one that everyone says is so great but is always passed over in the end for whatever reason. She'll be rejected too because people always go for the physical/emotional attraction (eros) over the spiritual connection (agape). But I'll still cross my fingers and hope that she at least gets somewhere in love by being a good person with a good heart.

Lastly, my brakes went out on my car today, which would ordinarily upset me greatly. But I'm not upset at all (just broke). In fact, I'm kind of glad because it means I get to sleep in tomorrow before bringing it to the shop. That, and the fact that I just publically posted an entire paragraph about how I wish I could kick back and watch movies in the buff, tell me that I'm in a good mood again. It feels good.

Today, for whatever reason (pure boredom perhaps), I was thinking about Joe Millionaire all day and how that show has become so much like my life. Generally in love, people gravitate towards two different types and Evan is doing that. See, he has two girls left that are very different from one another...one, Sarah, he is attracted to on an emotional and physical level while the other, Zora, he is attracted to on a more spiritual level (if that's what you want to call it...I am). Sarah is fun to be with, she's got a rocket body and all that jazz but that is his attraction to her. Zora, on the other hand, he is attracted to not because she is fun (after all, his most tense moments on the show seem to be with Zora) or anything like that, but because he sees himself in her I think. He sees her as an equal in the spiritual sense.

But why was I thinking about this all day, you ask, am I nuts? Am I out of my mind? Wazzup an shee-it? It's because I identify with the predicament. Not to say that I have been in Evan's shoes before -- with two women both vying for my heart at one time -- but because I've been in Zora's. So many times in my life there has been a girl who I've had that same sort of Evan-Zora connection with but everytime it happens, there's this Sarah-like guy who comes in and starts dancing all funky and promising all the cheesy and self-centered stuff of a relationship to the girl and it distracts her away from me...after all, he's "more fun" being willing to fuck her and use her and shower her with beautiful lies and the like...and the girl always falls for it. She is blinded by his nice car and fancy clothes and sweet whispers and warm bed and big dick and whatever other sort of metaphorical stereotypes one can come up with and in being so blinded cannot see my heart -- my one true asset, but the greatest asset of them all, more precious than all the gold, words, sweat, and cuteness wrapped up that that guy can give. The girl gets all caught up in the niceness of the vain relationship that she can't even begin to think about appreciating the deepness of a relationship with me. They always fall for the trappings of (I use the word even though it will make someone think I am talking of her, though this entry is not directed at her) comfort in a relationship...that feel good crap that makes people act all cute and giddy and smiley. Not that that's not important or anything, but it's much much much more important to have substance in a relationship than just "good times" because, after all, life will eventually throw shit into your fan and when it hits, comfort and feel good ain't gonna get you nowhere and a relationship based on it primarily is gonna go bye-bye in a hury making the shit even shittier because now you have to clean it up alone instead of with someone that really cares even in the rough times.

All the girls that have rejected me in the past for another man have found that out for themselves and I have no sympathy for them. I offered them my heart and they instead went for another man's dick. A couple of past interests have gone insane (by that I mean total lifestyle changes because the guy she chose over me screwed her over in a big big way) and a couple have tried to reconnect with me as if to beg for my forgiveness after the stabbed me in the back like that.

Egads, today is dragging on and on and on. Nothing to do at work so I got sent home on a break, but earlier I slid into a curb and bent in the rim of a tire which seems to be holding for now but only God knows if it will still that way, and I'm tired and achy. blech. I don't like days like this. No I don't. But I did want to write on a couple of things, so I guess I will.

First, the Columbia disaster. It upset me tremedously. I am a huge fan of the space program and want to see them do more, not less. And the accident makes me feel no differently. I don't know if it makes me a creep for thinking so or whatever, but I don't see why this should be a set-back at all for NASA. I mean, they have so far sent 130-140 or so manned missions into space which all resulted in the necessity of having those people come back by hurtling through the atmosphere at 20 times the speed of sound...I think it's impressive that it has taken this long, 40 years, for the systems that they developed to not work on one trip. I mean, it's tragic, don't get me wrong, but it's fricken dangerous and sometimes dangerous things have catastrophic results. The astronauts throughout the history of NASA have known this and I'm sure that the seven souls that were lost on Saturday were well aware of the dangers too. I just hope that this doesn't lead into another three-year drought of space exploration like the Challenger did. Though I'm not sure that it will since the Challenger was the result of design flaws (in the O-rings) and bad decision making (launching the morning after a hard freeze) -- this Columbia incident just seems more like, I hate to say it, dumb luck...something striking the wing either during launch, in space, or during the descent or maybe a crucial tile or something coming loose at the exact wrong time or something. Nothing that can be blamed on design flaws necessarily, only on fate. I don't know, maybe I'm insensitive, but I think that we don't take fate and luck into consideration enough in these matters, instead preferring to think we can master all possible failings and make things absolutely safe so no risk can be involved. What would have come of the "new world" had the great explorers of the past turned back or stopped coming any time disaster struck? We need to move forward. We need to push ourselves into new places and new frontiers even at risk of death or a loss of pride. That's how we will grow as a nation, as a society, and as a human race. That's what I think about that.

The other thing I wanted to write about was something that's been on my mind a lot lately. That is, the fact that I am afraid of commitment and intimacy. Not just of the romanitc kinds, but of all kinds -- family, platonic friendships, work relationships. For so long I have been hurt by people -- friends and even family -- that I have developed a shell that kind of gives me security and protection. I have not been able to trust people, I have not been willing to open up to people, I have not been able to feel free in my interactions with other people. But lately one of my friendships has been blossoming in beautiful ways and been forcing me to deal with those issues that have rattled me for so long. For once I feel comfortable with someone, for once I feel trusting of someone, for once I feel I can turn my back and not have to fear that she will talk about me, run away, or intentionally try to hurt me and that, for me, is something different, something that I am having a hard time dealing with just because it is the opposite of every friendship that I have had in my recent life...I've always had to be protective of myself and try to keep one step ahead of people, guessing what their intentions were before they could act on them, lest they hurt me. But I don't have to with her...and for some reason it bothers me, but in a good way if that makes any sense. It's really wierd and it leaves me feeling a bit odd and confused and hypersensitive as if I'm half-expecting something bad to happen but in my heart I know that it won't, because she cares about me and she wouldn't do anything that would intentionally hurt me. It's different, but in a good way. A very good way. Thank you, you know who you are. :)

I have a very good insight into what people are thinking and what people are feeling, often times way before they even know for themselves. This kind of sucks, because it allows me to "forsee" problems in the future based on a person's personality and what not which kind of takes away the fun of things. Spontaneity kinda goes out the window or something and it just leaves not much fun. I've been batting damn near 100% lately when it comes to people -- strangers, friends, and family alike -- and I see things occurring that, frankly, frighten me...and nothing that delights me to counter-balance that and that makes it really hard to go through the day. You just want to say "hey, look, don't you think that maybe your acting the way you're acting suggests this or that about how you really feel?" but it's not my place to do that. Or is it? I don't know.

Sorry this is sorta muddled or whatever, it's been a long 24 hours for me.