For anyone keeping score, this is five people that have died as a direct reult of "Saddam-has-chemical-weapons" fear-mongering with not a single case yet of someone actually dying of an attack (outside of attacks on Iraqis and Iranians in the 90's and 80's).

Also note that there have been several people who have died as a direct result of the smallpox vaccination and none who have died of the disease itself.

FEAR - 8 REALITY - 0

Two Israelis die in room sealed against chemical attack JERUSALEM - Two elderly Israeli Arab sisters were found dead Monday in a room they had sealed against a possible Iraqi chemical missile attack, and Israeli police said they were checking whether the women suffocated.

It would be the second case of its kind involving a sealed room. A mother and her two teenage sons, also Israeli Arabs, were found dead in similar circumstances two weeks ago.

This post was here
but now it's gone,
it could not stay
for very long.

Sometimes I write posts that are really, really good -- honest, elequent, clear and the like -- but after I post them I suddenly start thinking about them and their appropriateness...I start thinking, "what if I were kyle's friend and was sitting at work or at home, checking his blog and in doing so came across this" and it kinda freaks me out. Some things are just too personal to be said without saying something to friends first (not that I have a problem with exposing myself to the world...but friends should not have to learn things or hear me say things from this page and not my mouth). In any case, this was one of those posts.

It will be back.

I ran into an old friend last night at the bar and we talked about life, war, China, and, of course, my being sick of being a nice guy (lots of Jim Beam will turn conversation that way). In any case, he said something that makes a lot of sense...that maybe it's not so much my being a nice guy that's so bad, but the fact that I'm not firm. I mean, I have a tendency to pussy-foot my way through life, tip-toeing through the tulips and walking on eggshells all the time trying not to offend or make others uncomfortable or letting my niceness be anything but nice. But that's not really necessary. Really.

I've always readily admitted that I'm over sensitive to other peoples' feelings and have a huge guilt complex when it comes to negatively impacting other peoples' lives in any way through my actions. That's too nice. I mean, if my actions are always the result of my caring and in adherence to the Good, then that is good enough. If someone is hurt by it, or made uncomfortable, that's their problem. They might be mad at me for pointing out the truth to them, or not acting in a way that they expect, or be confused by my so-not-complex-that-it-appears-complex personality, but after they simmer down most people, especially the good ones -- the only ones that I care to have around -- will appreciate my niceness and draw them closer to me. No?

In any case, it makes sense to me. So I get to, thankfully, quit this bullshit with trying to not be a nice guy and, instead work on being more like myself.

I'm adding some war links for war news and the like...

...I'm trying to at least...blogger doesn't seem to want to make them stick.

I went to the bar tonight and fell in love. A rock and roll angel singing on stage with her short black hair, Chuck Taylors, and a tank-top polo shirt combo that hugged her perfect breasts just perfectly. And she sang like the sirens of yore, drawing me in to my own self-destruction. We had a little redezvous, a little one night stand...
...secretly
...in my head.
But it was good nonetheless.

(too bad she is too young and lives too far away...just my luck...I'm sure she would've been mine)

c'est la vie

There is something that I have begun to come to terms with in the last couple of days: I am a banana split in a world full of the lactose intolerant. I mean, banana splits are good, and there's nothing wrong with being lactose intolerant, but someone like me cannot be himself and expect to be tops on everyone's list. All that I can really do is hope that someone will work around the ice cream to nibble at my banana and suck on my nuts (sorry, I couldn't resist).

But to be serious, there are things about me that make me intolerable to other people. Plain and simple. We all have those sorts of things though...at least everyone that I have ever met, including everyone that I hold dear to me, has had such issues. But what seperates them from me is their ability to either hide it or somehow make that intolerability somehow less intrusive by having it come off as something entirely different, something at least stomachable if not "cute". Or maybe they don't even do that, but rather possess traits that somehow make the intolerability forgiveable. My problem is that I wear my heart on my sleave...no, I wear my heart at the end of ten foot pole that I swing about wherever I go...and I do not hide my intolerabilities. I have this crazed desire -- no, need -- to always be faithful, always be honest, always be for real. And given who I am as a human being -- that is, an over-compassionate sycophant to my heart that also happens to possess enough conscience and intelligence to be able to see the hurt and confusion of others and the mistakes that they're making as well as brainstorm my life away as to why they're acting in the way that they are -- it comes off as a bit much sometimes.

And there's nothing wrong with being that way, the world needs more people like me, but it is wrong of me to expect others to see that and accept that. I am different, and in being so I shouldn't really demand that people "get me". If they do, awesome; if they don't, it's their tough luck -- either way I'm going to care about them.

In any case, I'm dealing with this issue quite a bit from the dual angle of friendship issues and girl problems, and I'm starting to see the light...the way I see it, I have two options: Either just accept that this is the way things are, or change myself. And I'm leaning towards the angle of changing myself (because I'm doing such a shitty job of accepting it)...at least to the extent of shoving my heart under my lapel. Certainly, it would mean that I'd be being less than perfectly honest with people (which will lead to some uncomfortability for me), but I am at this point the most honest person that I know...it'd be alright for me to hand off that title to someone else, at least for awhile. Other people, good people, get through life just fine hiding their secrets and telling white lies, why can't I? At the very least, it would make me a little more approachable and maybe even get me laid. ;)

So right now I'm trying my best to take the ice cream off that sundae...a big job of fruit, syrup, nuts, and whip cream I shall become.

The first sign of this is in a short story that I was writing earlier this week...it, like everything that I write, is based on my life experiences and observations and the outcomes of them. It's why nothing that I write, unless I end it short and without any real ending, has a happy ending. In any case, I have been struggling with how to end this of strange meetings...not knowing if it should end in abandonment like all my stories do because it's all I know or somehow different. But with all this thinking I've been doing, I've decided that there's a good chance that things might end happily...but it's not finished yet. I'll post the rough draft for interested folks to read when I do finish it. [edit -- I finished it, here's the link]

You know, I just read something about the movie Magnolia and it got me to thinking (but, what doesn't eh?). My life right now is so much like that movie. Right now I am going through troubling times of introspection and change. So are my friends. So is the world, really. And I'm just sitting here, dealing with my own problems and waiting, just waiting, for everything to reach that moment where it cracks and each of us stops and sings:

It's not
What you thought
When you first began it
You got
What you want
Now you can hardly stand it though,
By now you know
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up

...and then the skies open up and pound the earth with frogs.

the end.

Wow, I was just going through some of my old work (editing and the like) and came across this poem that I had written and forgotten about:

Love Letter #1

Spoken words without meaning
cannot express the feelings in my heart.
Syllables forced together unnaturally,
empty grunting from my mouth.

Abundant words from which to choose
and none of them express my love
and the feelings that I feel for you –
no words big or complex enough.

Though words there are not, I cannot keep quiet
and sit on these emotions I feel.
But I try and I stutter and I fail,
making you hate me in my ineptitude.

And so my hands are tied behind my back
and all I can do is type words to you
hoping that the thoughts behind them
speak more than the words themselves.

A friend of mine real liked this poem, so I'm gonna post it. Gotta please the fans you know.

Cipro

Society-
killing me with ignorance,
stabbing me with the blade of paranoia,
forcing me to drink from the vile.
Madness-
invisible nothings
wandering biomes soon eating my insides
now there’s no way out.
Theft-
they took away the key,
using it for themselves when no door was locked,
breaking it off in the lock
No salve-
no cure to take away the pain,
the sickness overwhelming my body,
killing me quietly.
Pyres-
burning the incessant,
the smoke choking me, alarming me,
suicide turned murder.
A pill-
the simple means to salvation,
used on those that never sinned or coughed,
all used up.

Oh man, I want to go to the Corner Bar. Such fond memories, fond memories...

The last couple of days I have come to the conclusion that I need to lighten up and act like a sixteen year old for a little while. I missed that part of my life, more or less, and I think that I'm somehow missing the rest of my life as the result. I grew up too fast, took on too much responsibility at too young an age, started taking life seriously waaaaaayy before a person's supposed to do so. I can't remember ever having years that I felt "invincible" as people always say they have, I've always been too paranoid about the consequences of my actions -- both for myself and others. Never have I taken advantage of situations that present themselves before me because of it -- not drinking until I was 21, not doing drugs, not taking advantage of girls throwing themselves at me while they're drunk -- and I think it's pretty pathetic to tell you the truth. And so I'm making it my mission to do some of those things and make up for lost time...hopefully getting myself back on track.

So, I'm going to get my name on the wall, I'm going to get stoned on a regular basis, I'm going to go streaking the first night it doesn't cool down to an uncomfortable level, I'm going to bring a pint of Jack to the movie theater, I'm going to take full advantage of the first drunken girl that shows me any interest, I'm going to be an immature little sleazbag and I'm going to love it. Whether I like it or not.

I'm going to sue McDonalds and MTV...

I've been given the opportunity to talk about my girl problems with friends many, many times lately. Well, the opportunities aren't so much "given" as they are "taken" by me in between their rants about guys (the irony of them talking about boys being scum with me being completely missed by them). In any case, I've been noticing that there's a pattern in what is said.

I'll ask the simple question, in one way or another, that I have been asking in this blog over and over again for a long, long time...that is, why aren't girls at all interested in me? The pattern comes into play right away. If the girl is presently single or newly in a relationship to some degree, she will not answer really. However, a girl who's been in a relationship for a year or two or three or more will almost always answer with a rather shocked, "I really don't know" or "girls are stupid" or "I can't believe that you're single" or something along those lines. I'm starting to figure out why this is.

Girls that are single or in new relationships are generally looking for one of three things: flirty make-out sex games OR financial security OR both. Flirty make-out sex games are something that my shyness seems to suggest an unwillingness to partake in (considering that people never believe me when I tell them I'm shy as hell -- I AM DAMMIT -- they just assume that it's prudishness or whatever keeping me in line, I guess) and financial security is something I, frankly, don't have. And because I seemingly don't possess either of these things I am, in the short term at least, veiwed as a very unattractive man. In any case, if I read between the lines of anything that any single or newly involved girl says about their interests, it comes to these two things. They might call it "attraction" or "security" or "fun" or "cuteness" or whatever, but it is always the same...it is vanity.

And they go along with this for the first year or two or three of a relationship, thinking that because this guy or that or is willing to buy her nice things or is just so preciously cute or is excellent at stimulating her clitoris with his tongue or something, that it's love...or that things will always be that way and that love will eventually come of it. Nope. Attractiveness fades with age, money comes and goes, sexual drive wanes...these are simple matters of fact, undeniable and as certain as death and taxes. To trust that raw, sexual attraction will ever turn into love is like trusting a Budapest Taxi driver to not over-charge you. But they do it. And they do it until they get into it too deep...where they start to develop feelings for a guy -- admiration, pity, those sorts of things, but not love -- and decide that it must be love. Once the fun and excitement and machismo have left the relationship in a few years, all that's left is this girl with strong, more motherly than romantic, feelings for a guy who's just doesn't want to be alone.

And that's where my female friends that are in longer relationships come into play. They all can't believe that I'm single. One, last night (which is what set off this rant), told me very matter-of-factly: "If I wasn't dating so and so, I would be so all over you". Granted, she was just complaining about her relationship with so and so, talking about going to couple's counselling, and just all-around not sounding at all like she was in love with the guy (basically, everything was wrong), but the thought of leaving him was not even an option in her mind even though another girl, her best friend, was telling her that it was bullshit and that she should dump him. As she put it, there's too much invested there to just drop it...the little voice in my head saying "so you'd rather tie up the next ten, twenty, thirty years of your life than admit that the last three years have been racing down a dead-end street?". The voice stayed in my head.

But the thing is, her story is like so many stories. People hook up because they want a make-out partner or a romp in the sack and then expect it to go somewhere. And that expectation builds upon itself until it fabricates a lie that, once told to oneself over and over and over again, becomes a lie that one actually believes and that lie becomes one that one bases one's life on and one's life becomes a lie. And even though they have lied to themselves for so long and actually believe (?) that it's for real, it's as if they still see the truth...if only they're not admitting it...and realize that had they gone after someone who would be forever good to them instead of someone that would be for the first year or two good in bed, that their lives would be somehow better.

But that's just my theory. Logically, it pans out.

In any case, as it is, I only have one friend that is in a relationship that I envy. She's been dating the same guy for nine years and they are truly in love with one another. Theirs is not based on sex or money or any of that vain bullshit, but love. It's pretty fucking incredible. She eminates love, exudes it, whenever she talks about him. And the thing is, it is for real. They are both doing the twenty-something self-discovery thing and are doing it, sometimes, quite seperately (which is why they're not married). At one point, he was in school in Nebraska while she was teaching English in France. Thousands of miles and months apart they stuck together, and when she thought that maybe it wasn't right a year or so ago and broke up...it only lasted a month, her paranoia that it wasn't right having proved unfounded.

That what I want, that's what I think most of us want...and I seem to be the only person that's doing something about that desire. Are people deluding themselves? Are people cracked out? Have they just given up? Or are they out of patience, having been giving their McDonald lunches in a minute flat and had their attention spans zapped by MTV?

When my mom was bed-ridden, in constant extreme pain from cancerous tumors in her pelvic bone, she used to get upset from time to time. I wee bit understandable. In any case, after a few of her worst moments, she would apologize to me for being so angry. It was PMS she was suffering from, she said: Poor Me Syndrome.

For the past few months I have been suffering a case of PMS myself, it seems. And although the pain isn't necessarily alleviating itself, I need to shut the fuck up. I've become ridiculous in my whining and bullshit on this blog and in real life. And so I am making a pledge to stop, or at least to tone it down a lot. Because, frankly, that's not the kind of person I want to be and, deep down, it's not at all the type of person that I am.

So, anyway...

the best war coverage out there

This news story doesn't deserve to be listed with the rest, but a seperate one, to show respect and honor:

Marine killed in Iraq was orphan immigrant who enlisted to thank U.S. for his new life "An orphan who grew up on the streets while Guatemala was enmeshed in civil war, he found a new family when at age 14 he traveled to the United States by train, foot and bus. He enlisted partly to thank the United States for his new life, his foster brother said.

'''He joined the Marines to pay back a little of what he'd gotten from the U.S.,' Max Mosquera said. 'For him it was a question of honor.'''

Some fascinating, and some disturbing, news stories not involving war or whatever (just to prove that there's stuff going on in the world outside of Iraq)...

any comments of mine are in italics

UFO could have been electrocuted cat "Lars Helge Sogn says what people saw was the cat exploding and falling off the mast."

Paranoia extremus, part 318 "'Let me see your ID,' Spilde said. 'Why?' I asked. Wrong response. 'Call for backup,' Spilde eventually told Ramirez as he seized my notebook and pen and began to search me. Was I being arrested, I asked before turning over my driver's license. Eight officers responded to the call for backup. One told me that, legally, I was not being arrested, just subject to "'nvestigative detention.'"

President W: "oops..." "The United States Congress has stepped in to find nearly $300m in humanitarian and reconstruction funds for Afghanistan after the Bush administration failed to request any money in the latest budget." mind you, this is after Bush made a huge deal about us rebuilding after we demolished Afghanistan

Dead cat paranoia, part II "What some feared was possible terrorist activity underneath the Fred Hartman Bridge on Friday turned out to be an animal burial at sea."... "Part of the ship channel was closed to vessel traffic. The bridge, which spans the Ship Channel, was closed on both the La Porte and Baytown sides of Texas 146. Motorists were advised to use Beltway 8 as an alternate route." They closed the bridge down for TWO HOURS

Dunkin' Donuts became the first U.S. company to tattoo its logo on the foreheads of people interestingly enough, I wrote letters to a few companies a couple years back offering to do this for money...I offered to have a Trojan tattoo placed above my dick, a McDonald's logo eyebrow-style on my forehead, Pepsi ying-yangs on my nipples, that sort of thing.


Iraqi Sailors Sip Espresso on Italy's Riviera "'The crew are not prisoners. They can go around the town when they want. It's the ships that can't go anywhere,' La Spezia spokesman Francesco Pilato told Reuters. 'They started the engines once for about 15 minutes about 12 years ago. Until the embargo is lifted they are not leaving.'"

Oh, I had a good story about today...

You know that game you play when you get a fortune cookie and add the words "in bed" to the end of it?...well, it usually works in a very funny way. Anyway, today I got Chinese food for lunch and my fortune read: "You shall soon acheive perfection"

To which I said aloud "CHA-CHING!"

oh, oh, a good punch-line opportunity:

"And here I have always thought you needed practice to be perfect"

add more punchlines in the comments box if you wish...I don't know. It's beddy-bye time for kyle.

This is probably ridiculous, and might even make me sound like I'm thirteen to anyone that might be checking this blog out for the first time...but it seems at least a little bit significant for me:

I called a friend tonight who was busy, just to talk and see what was going on, and she had to go, telling me she'd call me back. She didn't. Normally -- or at least what would have to be considered "normal" for the past few months ("few" being a miserable, what, six months now?...shit) that I've been in this sick-of-being-lonely glut -- I would take this personally, but I am not allowing myself to. Yeah, sure, I wish she would have called, but I'm accepting that there is a reason she didn't besides the fact that she's pissed off or hates me or whatever. Kinda pathetic that I'd feel any pride for not being paranoid, I know, but it's a baby step in the right direction. After all, it's exactly the thing that got me down on Friday.

Anyway, phone calls. I spent some time tonight thinking about it. All my life I have always felt guilty calling people up on any sort of regular basis. I mean, some friends I call up once a day and after a week or so I start feeling like an obnoxious jerk or something. It dawned on me that that isn't really all that bad, really. One of my roommate's friends calls him at least once every day, and there have been others that have done the same (though they have somewhat drifted apart). I know I wouldn't be upset if I had a friend that called every day either...so I don't know what my deal is. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? People aren't going to get sick of me because I call more days than not to see how their day went and what's going on that night, are they? I know, I know, these are all things that I should have figured out when I was a Freshman in high school, but the fact of the matter is I didn't. And I've always been a lone wolf, always had very few friends, and I just never really learned that sort of ettiquette (put me at a dinner table or in a high-social event and I'll show you perfect manners...it's the day to day shit that I'm a complete ignoramous about). Anyway...I sometimes wonder if this fear of over-bearing has much to do with the fact that I have always had female friends that are my hanging out sorts of friends (with most of my close male friends being scattered about the country...which sorta kinda makes hanging out difficult) and I'm fearful of them thinking that I'm just being their friend to wear them down so that they'll jump in the sack with me or something (which has never been the case -- not that I haven't had friends that I would date if given the chance -- but some friends have thought that that was my ploy and run away...the pain of which is part of the reason I'm such a retard when it comes to girls).

Anyway, I'm too chatty, which means I should probably go to bed now. At least I get to look forward to sleeping in on Thursday though. The thought of a full night's sleep is giving me a raging boner.

I got evaluated at work today. I've been harping about getting a promotion there for awhile (since plenty of people who've been there half the time I have) so much of what was written by my boss was directed towards that. After complimenting me and my work, she said that I was not quite mature enough and I tend to be distracting to others...if I were to focus a bit, she'd push for my promotion. Hehe...so now I have a choice, cut back on my shinanigans and wise-cracking and get a good size raise and lots more hours throughout the year, or continue having fun and joking around a lot. It's a hard choice for me. Work has become a sort of refuge for me where I don't have to worry about anything and don't have to think...it's the only place I feel comfortable letting my hair loose and acting like a total jackass. I mean, people appreciate that there too (and often think I'm kidding when I say that I'm stressed out/depressed/tired), many of my co-workers are retired people and I often feel as though they think of me as an adoptive grandson or something. I don't know. I guess I could calm down a bit, a wee bit, and see what happens from there. Then again, I used to act even more like a monkey than I do now.

Whatever.

Of course, I think it might be odd for people that read this blog (or, for that matter, some of my friends in RL) to even imagine that that side of me exists. Almost to the extent that people at work think of me as a jolly good fellow that's always chipper and nice. I should blend those two sides of my personality better. I really should. Or maybe just let the goofy side show up outside the confines of work more often. In any case, I need to lighten up and now that I have talked to my best friend about some of the things that have been bothering me I feel better...understood. So now if I can just do the same with the rest of my friends, all will be good in that department and I will again be able to be the somewhat childish yet profoundly philosophical yet incredibly sexy person that I am.

For anybody that cares to know, I think these blog postings and a short story that I wrote have added up to something like four or five thousand words in the past four or five hours. That's a lot. If someone wants to pay me to write, e-mail me.

I am feeling a good amount of guilt right now for some of the things I've posted over this weekend and even further back. I feel as though I'm being overly selfish in my attitudes towards my friends. Everyone that I consider a friend is a damn good person. I am finicky about who I allow to get that close to me. If I consider someone a friend, it means that I think very highly of them. I hope that they all realize that.

Also, I know that the people that I consider friends are people that would help me out if I was in desperate need for help. They have shown this to me, some more than others, but they are willing to make small sacrifices in their lives for me. That is awesome.

But what I am starting to think I'm realizing is that one of the common threads between my friends (they tend to be here and there rather than all in one circle) is that all of them have a different perspective on what they need from friendships. That is, simply put, that I highly value a small handful of very close, intimate friendships whereas many of them are more interested in gaining as many friends as possible. While I am seeking out quality in friendships, they all seem to be seeking out quantity. This confuses me. On one hand, I do not understand why someone would have that need. It seems elementary to me that having a few people that honestly care about you and your well-being and would rather hang out with you than anyone else is so much more important than having gobs of people that fill up your life with their individual needs. In a sense, I think that the way that most people like to stop having kids after two or three is a good analogy of that...a smaller, tighter family being a lot more loving and less stressful. Not to say that in that setting there's a strain on how much love you can give, but it seems like it would be spread more thin in a large group. I don't know.

On another hand, I don't see how my friends don't see that they are missing out on a lot when they go out seeking more and more friends. I don't have a single friend that does not have some major misconception of me. Most of them think that I am a more depressed person than I am (probably because I only start hounding on people when I need people...and that's when I'm down...and they don't tend to call me when I don't call them first), and all of them seem to not see some of my major traits -- my stubbornness or my compassion or my idealism -- no one misses them all, but all seem to miss one or two. And I try to show them, I try to help them understand me, but it's hard when they are too busy running around and collecting numbers. You know?

Another thing that I don't understand about it is that I don't get why they don't seem to have these same needs as I. Am I that odd that I want to be understood rather than running around and attempting to find of get and know different people? I mean, am I the only person that shops only until he finds something nice and then is satisfied with exploring its every nob and dial and then stops shopping rather than going out, picking up some new toys, playing with them a bit and then going out shopping again? I seriously do not understand.

I mean, these are by no means criticisms. I firmly believe in the the tenet of to each his own. But I've come to see it as being a major thing in the minds of my friends and it is obviously something that confuses me to the point of frustration and more. I just don't get it. I long for a group of friends that are tight and happy like (God I hate referencing television shows like this...but they cross the wide boundaries of the internet the best) those on Friends or Seinfeld -- tight little groups where everyone knows each other intimately and is always willing to be there for you without having to put on hold twenty-six other obligations to thirty-two different people. To put it more grimly, when I come to die, I would much rather have a few people feel impacted by my passing and carry on my legacy for the rest of their lives than have enough people to fill up a cathedral but move on and more or less forget me soon after my body grows cold. And I don't understand why everyone doesn't feel the same way. Can anyone out there in cyberland explain it or pat me on the back and say "yeah, I wonder the same thing myself sometimes" or something?

Or, if I am one, could someone just tell me I'm a fucking freak for being this way? jk. ...sorry, a little self-referential humor there.

Not a criticism or anything per se...but why is the US government screaming Geneva Contention violations for Iraqi television showing American POWs when American television shows photos of Iraqi POWs over and over and over again?

I could make my usual comment about the hypocrisy of American foriegn policy, but I'll restrain myself.

Michael Moore, the greatest export from the state of Michigan, ever.

- 'Chicago,' Michael Moore Fire Up Oscars There was little mention of the fighting from the stars and even show host Steve Martin at the start of the show, but when Moore took to the podium as the winner for a best documentary feature, the anti-gun movie "Bowling for Columbine, all that changed.

"We live in a time where we have a man sending us to war for fictitious reasons. Whether it is the fiction of duct tape or the fiction of orange alerts, we are against this war, Mr. Bush. Shame on you, Mr. Bush!"

Tonight I wrote a short story. I haven't finished it yet, but it is amazing how explaining things on paper and in metaphor like that can help me. I don't know, I'm reminded of the song El Scorcho by Weezer, and the line:

How stupid is it
I can't talk about it
I gotta sing about it
And make a record of (my heart)

There are people out there in the anti-war community that are angry at people like me that are no longer protesting the war. The post I made the other day about the war, I would think, states my thoughts about it pretty well, but other things in my life lately (a conversation with a friend last week as well as one at the dinner table this afternoon with my folks) have suggested that people don't really understand what I am talking about.

You see, I'm the stubbornest damn fool that's ever walked this earth. When I get my mind set on something that I want, think, desire, whatever, I focus like a laser beam on that something until I've done everything that I can to accomplish the goal in my mind. I think that that's an admirable trait...certainly that sort of stubbornness in another person draws me to them (in fact, I think it's one of the few traits that all girls that I've ever been interested in share)...and I am by no means ashamed of possessing it so strongly, even though it does me a lot of harm in life. It's a stubborness to principles mostly, but also a stubborness to not allow myself to think I'm wrong until I've been proved wrong -- whether it's about a person, an idea, or what have you. Although that stubborness, to some extent, keeps me close-minded, it allows me to hold on dearly to those things that are important to my identity (my faith, my ethic, my sense of being, etc.) and explore the world with an open mind. I realize that the juxtaposition of those two states of mindedness do not make sense to most people, but it does to me...I'm suddenly reminded of Homer's telling of Odysseus having himself tied to the mast of his ship so that he could listen to the Sirens' song without being drawn to his own self-destruction. In a sense, a literal one, he is tying himself down and not allowing himself the freedom of movement, but at the same time, because he is tied down he has the ability to experience a song that no man had before had heard and lived to tell about. There is a down side and an up side to it.

In any case, in my stubbornness, I have discovered many things about the world, primarily this: There are some things you can change and others that you cannot. It seems elementary at first glance, but looking out at the world, it seems to be one of those ideas that most people don't acknowledge on a regular enough basis. There are plenty of people that are good at changing things when they can and plenty of people that are capable of accepting the things that they cannot change, but very people have a very keen sense to tell the difference between the two. You see, that's the most important thing to know -- the difference between the two. Being able to convince people to change their minds, being able to move mountains, whatever, is a great ability to possess, but try to convince every person and move every mountain and you are bound to come across an obstacle that cannot be altered. Not being able to discover this in due time will lead to pain and suffering -- the wasted effort to change things sapping you of your energy and spirit. Conversely, there are those that are good at accepting when things aren't going their way. They can forgive and forget without so much as a single harsh thought or memory, they are capable of letting go of anything without feeling a sense of failure or what have you. But too often people let go before they should. Sometimes they give up the fight before they really should have. Sometimes they deny themselves greatness because they threw their arms in the air a tad too quickly.

I make it sound as though there are two different types of people, but I think we all possess both of these abilities, some of us one or the other to greater extents. But the thing that most people do not possess so much is the ability to tell which side of the dichotomy to lean on in any given situation. I feel that this is one of those things that I am good at. I can fight and fight and fight for something, fight stubbornly until my hands are blistered and bleeding, and yet let go without a bit of lost pride when it becomes evident that it's not going to do me any good. This has been the finest lesson I've learned in life and I think that a lot of prudishness comes from my having learned it. When there's a chance, a reasonable chance, for something to go my way, I will do anything and everything to try and acheive it...but I recognize when things have reached that sort of proverbial point of no return. And once I cross it, I see the futility of trying any more...even if I really want to. And so, because of that stubborness to never admit to my being wrong, I give up and have no hard feelings about doing so.

Such is my stance on the war. There ain't nothing that can be said or done now to stop it...so there's no point in trying. We are doing it, we have become that sort of nation that rushes into pre-emptive wars with no real popular support from the people of the world and there isn't a damn thing that will change it. We have destroyed buildings, destroyed lives, and there is not a single thing that can be done to undo that. Our "president" has made up his mind and there is nothing that can be said or done to change it. Nothing. And so protesting the war is futile. It really is. That doesn't mean that you have to like the fact that we're at war, it doesn't mean that you have to support it, but it does mean that there is little that any protesting will do. Seriously. The best that you can do is pray that all turns out well, to hope that things do not go badly for any of us.

Sometimes things get to be completely out our individual control, even those things that affect us directly, the greatest lesson in life is to find that ability within yourself to recognize that moment and listen to yourself.

Oh great, all that a generation of damn fools that think with nothing but their dicks needs is a "'sensational scientifically blended concoction of potent and proven aphrodisiacs' that could lead to 'a generation of randy super beings'". One step closer to Orgy-Porgies, why the fuck won't they get me my fucking Soma? It's all I ever asked for from this brave new world.

I almost deleted this blog just now...I circled the cursor over the button that would have done it for a little while. You would have gotten a good ol' message from blogger that said that this page doesn't exsist any longer. You wouldn't be reading this right now if I'd done that. Then I thought I was being foolish. I have too much emotional energy invested in this damn thing. It's the only thing I have that's there for me most of the time that I ask it to be.

But the fact remains that I have lost it pretty much completely. I am demoralized. I am outraged. I am sick and tired of the world and of myself.

I don't know why I say these things. It's not as if anyone can do anything. If they could, I don't know that anyone would. No one cares enough about me to give me those sorts of needs, that sort of attention. Because I think that's why I say half of what I say, because I need attention and no one gives me nearly enough. I am seriously alone (outside of work) all but five hours a week. The rest of the time is spent trying to entertain myself, but you run out of things after awhile. I've been out of thigns to do for months now. No one will bowl with me, no one will go to the theater with me, no one will go to hockey games, to the casino, to the arcade, to movies, to museums, to anything but the bar. AND I FUCKING HATE THE BAR. Fuck, masturbation has even lost its luster.

This blog is a cry for help. And I am sick of crying for help.

I am the fucking video game on your cell phone that you play when there's absolutely nothing else to do.

A good site to keep your eye on during these times: Iraq Body Count

Words are meaningless:

I am an antelope

See. I can say that, but it doesn't mean a damn thing unless I start going on all fours, grow some antlers, and frolic through the West living my life freely except for the fear of coyotes, wolves, and the like. That sentence is meaningless because there is no truth behind it. Words are funny like that.

Words can also be totally illogical and contradictory. I could write:

This sentence is false.

Of course, if the sentence is true, then it contradicts itself and is therefore false. If it is false, then it is true and therefore contradicts itself just the same. Either way, these particular words in this particular order do not mesh with any possible configuration of reality. These too are meaningless words, but in a different sense. Like the idea of a circular square.

I say this because people like to tell me that they miss me or like me or love me. That I'm a "cool" guy. That there's nothing wrong with me...and yet they do not show it. Not enough for me to think that it's true at least. I do not get the attention that a human being needs to maintain sanity. No, instead I sit by the phone waiting for people to call me either out of their own volition or to return a call I made to them and it doesn't happen all that much. I say to my friends: "hey, let's do such and such" to which they more often than not say no...only to do such and such soon there-after with other people, not me. Frankly, I think, that's a large part of what's got me down. My friendships, it seems, consist of words more than anything. There's not much attention there, there's not that much giving on their part, my friendships all seem to me to be little more than games of semantics and the like. And frankly, I'm starting to feel the burn of jealousy for the first time since I nipped that dog in the butt years ago because of my always being shoved aside for other people.

You know, I say that, and I mean it too, but I do have friends that, when I look them in the eye, I know that they care about me...some (and by that I mean one) caring about me even more than I think they realize...and it confuses the living shit out of me that they should say that they care and look like they care, but in the end not act like they care as nearly as much as they say or look.

fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

I just read that Saturday was William Shatner's birthday...his 72nd birthday. I had no idea he was that old...holy crap.

I'll let the irony speak for itself:

Justice Bans Media From Free Speech Event The City Club usually tapes speakers for later broadcast on public television, but [Supreme Court Justice Antonin] Scalia insisted on banning television and radio coverage, the club said. Scalia is being given the organization's Citadel of Free Speech Award.

also...

"The Constitution just sets minimums," Scalia said. "Most of the rights that you enjoy go way beyond what the Constitution requires."

Who the fuck appointed this guy to the highest Court in America? Seriously, did the Senate check this guy out before they voted him in?

Only in America (or the People's Republic of China, Iraq, North Korea, Cuba, and most sub-Saharan African nations from time to time):

Red alert? Stay home, await word

I am sorry that I have been posting other peoples' thoughts lately...but I feel overwhelmed. I am also very aware that I haven't posted a single thing about the war, and there are reasons for that...

Though I am opposed to the idea of war, especially when it is unjust and pre-emptive, I feel as though arguing against it now is moot. There is nothing that can be said and done that's going to change the fact that battle plans have been drawn up, bombs loaded onto planes and dropped, troops sent up towards Baghdad and dropped here and there throughout Iraq. None of that can be undone. And I think it's important to accept that. Nothing, nothing, can be done to undo what has been done. And so we are at war, like it or not (and I certainly do not). What I am doing now is hoping and praying for the people of Iraq just wanting to live in peace, the American troops who signed up so they could get money for school and ended up getting dragged into Dubya Dubya Dubya III, and even the Iraqi troops that were told to fight under duress. I hope and pray that all can get through this with their lives. I hope that we all get through this with our lives.

And the war is enveloping my life right now. I have watched three, four, five hours a day of television news about the war since Wednesday night. I incessantly check the news on my mobile phone or NPR when a television is not around. It has consumed my life.

...which, I feel, speaks volumes for the fact that the few posts I have made this week have dealt with social issues in my life. I sepnd so much time worrying about the war and all I can think about when it's time to write and post are girls, friends, and those sorts of things. Damn I need a soma holiday.

Song lyrics in my mind right now:

from Acrobat by U2

Yeah, I'd join the movement,
if there was one I could believe in.
I'd break bread and wine,
if there was a church I could receive in,
cos I need it now...
to take the cup,
to fill it up,
to drink it slow,
can't let you go
and I must be
an acrobat,
to talk like this,
and act like that.
and you can dream
so dream out loud
you know that the time is comin' round...
so don't let the bastards grind you down.

I reposted this post from a few days back...like promised.

Annoying questions from a 21st century leper:

Is it wrong that I feel so alone? Is it wrong that I crave attention? Is it wrong that I long to have people think of me when I'm not around? Is it wrong that I would love to have people call me out of the blue to ask how I'm doing? Is it wrong that I wish people would make sacrifices for me once in awhile? Is it wrong that I expect my friends to be there for me? Is it wrong that I want to to be loved? Is it wrong that I would rather sit at home and watch movies with my closest friends than go to the bar with them? Is it wrong that I feel neglected? Is it wrong that I wish I was someone else? Is it wrong that I am no good? Is it wrong that I feel crummy when no one returns phone calls or calls when they say they will? Is it wrong that I question my friendships when my friends break too many promises? Is it wrong that I feel abandoned? Is it wrong that I live life in honor and trust and love? Is it wrong that I try to do what's right? Is it wrong that I believe in God and act in that faith? Is it wrong that I feel spat upon by the world? Is it wrong that I feel unappreciated? Is it wrong to feel like I should feel appreciated? Is it wrong to want to run away? Is it wrong to want to die? Is it wrong to want to flip off the world and ride off to never-never land? Is it wrong to keep running into the arms of people that hug me with a knife in their left hand? Is it wrong to feel like I deserve that somehow? Is it wrong to feel like shit because no one wants to understand me? Is it wrong that I want to understand other people? Is it wrong that I give up on people after I'm pretty sure I've got them figured out as people that I don't care about? Is it wrong to love people that I have a connection with? Is it wrong to desire understanding? Is it wrong to desire love? is it wrong to desire company? is it wrong to desire truth? Is it wrong to desire consistency? Is it wrong to desire faithfulness? Is it wrong to hope for better times?

Is it?

Anybody?

Sickness. I went to work for a little over two hours today. I was fine at first, but then a headache started coming on that pretty much involved all the sinus areas behind my left eye. It waa uncomfortable, then annoying, and then it just plain hurt like hell. It hurt so bad I had to go home and when I got home I made a bee-line for the bathroom and threw up. The pain was that intense. All I could from that point on was lay in bed, unable to go to sleep because the pain was too all encompassing. I just laid there, putting pressure on the top of my nose (because it usually helps) and that doing nothing but creating a bruise in between my eyebrow and nose. I thought I was dying or something, I honestly did. That went on for hours...resting for awhile and then taking care of a traffic ticket that was overdue and about to have a warrant issued over if I didn't take care of it today...the errand made things worse, much worse, and when I got home I threw up again and plopped on the couch to watch TV.

But now I am somewhat better. The pain is bareable, I can move around. I feel almost as though I can eat and not chuck it back up immediately. But I am pretty much bed-ridden for the night unless the woman of my dreams calls me up and tells me that tonight is my one and only chance to make sweet love to her before she goes away forever...in which case, I think I might be able to suffer.

But, seriously, watch: Now that I'm unable to do anything, my phone will ring off the frickin hook.

With allies like this, who needs enemies? Israeli bulldozer driver murders American peace activist

More boobs in public, less boobs in public office...my sentiments exactly (some nudity if you scroll down...to warn ya): M14 Protest: Boobies for Ashcroft! : SF Indymedia

Man, March 8th, passed and it doesn't seem I missed much at all. Stupid boats being built on the tops of mountains...

So much has happened to me in the last couple days that every time I try to post something, things get too scattered for my own good...since many of those things that have happened involve my relationship with other people, I'm gonna try and bunch them all together...or something like that.

Anyway, today I find out that this cute girl I know was very interested in me for a couple weeks a couple of weeks ago. Of course, like most girls, she couldn't express that interest without wrapping it up in enigmaticism. Okay, maybe it's not so much her fault, but my total lack of ability at catching those sorts of vibes having been teased far too many times in the past by girls that never had any interest has left me with a very damaged sexual radar. Anyway, now it's a couple weeks later and nothing has changed really. We chit chat a bit, we smile when we pass each other wherever we meet, and blah blah blah...but she's not interested anymore. This is one of the things about girls that really confuses me...the way that their desires can change so rapidly for no apparent reason. I mean, the only perspective I have is as a guy and I know that if I had a crush or felt something for a girl and, for whatever reason, things didn't happen right away but in that nothing happening nothing bad happened (finding out she had issues or any sort of turn-off), that crush or interest would be there those couple weeks later...hell, even months later. The feeligns just sort of go into a dormant state to be awoken when the girl's mood swings back to her being interested too. A friend of mine (female) put it sort of sweetly: guys (or at least good guys) are like dogs in that they're loyal to the end and always maintain a sort of "whatever happens, happens" attitude when it comes to relationships while girls are like cats with their finicky day to day changes in ideas as to what they want...never really saying what it is that they want, but being judgemental as hell when they don't get what they expect. Hell, my cat meows constantly and I can't figure out what he wants most of the time, I guess that explains my luck with women. But then, I guess, it's that mystery that keeps me interested in girls after all these years of them not being interested in me.

Of course, then, last night is St. Patrick's day and me not being a single ounce Irish I go to the bar and get completely lit...to the point where I, Kyle, vow off seriousness in its entirety. For one night, I don't think about the consequences of my actions, for one night I don't allow myself to analyze things, for one night I drop all inhibitions and become not-quite-a-nice-guy...and I get action. Not a lot of action, actually, no personal contact sort of action whatsoever, but girls talking dirty to me and showing me their boobies. Pardon my freedom, but what the fuck is up with that? Geez, for years I have been a nice guy and girls have shown little to no interest in me (that I have been aware of at least...again, my naivety may have damned me more than once) when it was wanted (i.e. outside of the months immediately proceeding the death of my mother), but I drop that for a night, bite my tongue when my conscience says "don't do it, don't do it kyle" and one pulls her top up for a free t-shirt and others make sexual advances. Again, what the fuck is up with that? I mean, I was not comfortable having bottled up my conscience so tightly all night (or rather, not hearing it whispering in my ear at least), but last night taught me that that's almost what I have to do in order to have girls show interest in me. For the third time: what the fuck is up with that? I'm sure there's a happy intermediary somewhere there where I can be a nice guy and a total sleazebag asshole at the same time -- or at least a little of both -- but it's a balancing act. Acting like a creep is not exactly my thing, per se, but I guess I gotta start doing it. I don't necessarily feel good about acting as if I am obejectifying women, but if that's what gets their attention, I guess I gotta start doing it...or am I wrong? I don't know. Girls are confusing, but I already said that in the above paragraph. Then again, the attention I was getting was coming from girls that I wouldn't want anything to do with in terms of relationships...my not being too interested in the all or nothings, but the mix of naughty and nice...so maybe its just those girls that want that...in any case, some attention is better than no attention, even if you're not interested.

But, of course, it all brings me back to a simple thing: I'm a nice guy which means that I come off as a goody-two-shoes even though I'm not. Granted, I don't want a slutty girl, but I don't want a goody-two-shoes either. You know? I'm looking for someone compassionate and honest and nice, but I also want someone that's not at all those things, at least some of the time. I want to watch the sun set from the beach, I want to talk through the night, I want to smile every time I see her eyes...but I also want to have at least a little dirty fun -- strip teases, sex games and the like. But when I don't ever let myself misbehave, it comes off as my not being open to those sorts of things, it comes off as my laces being tied way too tight...and who wants that, really, but the goody-two-shoes that I'm not at all interested in for the very same reasons that I am now suggesting that girls maybe aren't all that interested in me. Aha! so, I guess, last night was a good eye-opener (I've been having so many of those lately, I think I'm turning into a new person or something). Oh well.

Even if the lessons I think I've learned turn out to be all wrong, at least I saw boobies for the first time in...in....damn, I ran out of fingers. c'est la vie

Guys, here's something to make you think...at least it will me. Article not for the faint-hearted.

New treatment for fractured organ: A man was admitted to the emergency department at 1 am in obvious distress. He was agitated, his skin cold and clammy, suggestive of blood loss. Doctors were shocked to find a markedly swollen penis as the cause which required immediate surgery to remove a large blood clot. The question -- how did it happen? He was reluctant to explain but finally admitted he had been masturbating vigorously when he heard a sudden snap followed by intense pain and swelling.

Man, this world is too obsessed with money. I know that if I were delivering pizzas and found myself in a position to help out two shooting victims, I'd do it in a heart-beat. I too would probably get fired. I know this, and yet I fight to maintain my status of "nice guy" or whatever. Boy do I need to change...

CBC News: After 30 minutes it's free, after 2 hours you're fired when she reported back to Frank's Pizza her supervisor, Jason Boyd, fired her. "We feel just as bad as the next guy, but we don't pay employees to be EMTs (emergency medical technicians)," Boyd said.

bad, bad don johnson... Former Miami Vice star Don Johnson is being investigated on suspicion of being involved in an international money-laundering ring.

There is something about letter writing that has been lost in our modern age. I wrote a letter to a friend tonight, in large part just because I had the desire to write a letter, in some part, though, because I needed to write some thoughts out and since those thoughts involved someone else, I just figured it was somehow appropriate. I don't know, but letter-writing has become sort of classified as wierd or odd in our society and I'm kind of weary of sending it...even though it's not a weird or odd letter. Not really. I used to communicate with far-flung friends exclusively by letter...there was nothing quite like the anticipation of going to your mailbox around the time that you'd expect it to come and opening up your mailbox, crossing your fingers or whatever...or the greater joy of receiving one when you don't expect it. But that was then (a whole fours ago) and now things are somehow different...I don't like the fact that I can't just do it without feeling that it's that way, you know?

Especially since I am a way better communicator with the written word than I am with the spoken, letter writing is a preferred method for me to express myself to people...that, along with the whole gentleman-thing, progressive politics, and desire for a more simple life all lead me to my thoughts that I was born a hundred or so years too late.

Then again, it's kinda nice to be around now since it's easier to travel and there's more variety to life...I just wish all that stuff that was so mainstream back then was still so today. But then, I'm asking for the best of two worlds and since when has that been more than a pipe dream?

In any case...

Ineresting little tid-bit...Dubya's daddy (you know, the guy who he's trying to avenge via WWIII) doesn't seem as hip to the idea of invasion as one might expect of the president's own daddy...

Times Online He said that the key question of how many weapons of mass destruction Iraq held “could be debated”. The case against Saddam was “less clear” than in 1991, when Mr Bush Sr led an international coalition to expel invading Iraqi troops from Kuwait. Objectives were “a little fuzzier today”, he added.

From the WTF files:

Word is made flesh as God reveals himself... as a fish

Man, it's steak and bj day and I'm getting neither...

Oh what an ass have I been:

Last night a friend helped open my eyes a bit to how much of a close-minded, judgemental person I have allowed myself to become. I used to be worse than now, but I got much, much better over the years and, I guess, considered myself "cured" at some point and began to let my guard down. I mean, in the politiclal sense, I'm as open-minded as they come -- not holding a person's skin color, sexual orientation, gender, or ethnicity against them -- but somewhere my heart let itself close up to people as individuals. That's really shitty, and I am very ashamed to admit that I have done that, but I guess that first step of realizing that you have a problem is the biggest one. And I owe it all to my friend, my wonderfully open and honest friend that told me this about me even though it couldn't have been comfortable for her to do so...God, I love having friends like that -- ones that will slap you in the face when you need a wake-up and not hold the fact that you said or did something that brought them to slapping you against you.

But, anyway, over the next few weeks I am going to force myself to re-examine things, especially my impressions of several people and try to figure out if my unwillingness to have anything to do with them (and therefore my friends while they are hanging out with them) is for real, or just this sort of cocky dismissal thing that I've had going on. We'll see.

song stuck in my head all day:

Fake Plastic Trees by Radiohead
A green plastic watering can
For a fake chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth

That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself

It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out

She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns

He used to do surgery
On girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins

And it wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him out

She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love

But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run

And it wears me out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out

And if I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time, all the time

I had a revelation today...I'm really being an asshole lately. I mean, seriously, I've been pretty concieted and quite whiney both on this blog and in real life. And to everyone that's had to suffer my conceit, I am sorry as a human being can be. That revelation came after I talked with a friend at work about the Simpsons, afterward my thoughts turned to how much like Lisa Simpson I am...and I am. I'm a nerd and I keep trying to tell myself that I'm not...for whatever reason, I don't know. I like nerds, for the most part, but I want to be cool or something. But even that yearning to be cool cannot make the fact that I'm a nerd untrue. So, I just gotta accept it. Hoo-ah.

Anyhoo, now that I've figured that out about myself, I can quit being such an ass and be regular old kyle...which is a sort of intellectual/creative/romantic base, smothered in a cynical gravy, with a little whimsy for garnishment. And, of course, a roll of niceness on the side. Delicious with the red wine.

French Fries Get New Name in Congress

If french fries are now freedom fries, does that mean that if I kiss a girl with a little tongue, it's all in the name of freedom? Just curious.

I love kids' jokes...I'm sad to admit that whenever I'm waiting at the shop or dentist's office I pick up the ol' Highlights magazine and, after finding everything that's wrong with the picture on the back (that can be tough...seriously), I flip it to the jokes section. Here are some of my favorites in that style (not all of them from the magazine):

I find them more hilarious when told one immediately after the other with a straight face and monotone voice:

What'd the picture say to the wall? I've been framed.
Why didn't the skeleton cross the street? He didn't have any guts
What do you call two bananas? A pair of slippers
What sits on the bottom of the ocean and twitches? a nervous wreck
What do you get from a pampered cow? spoiled milk
What'd the fish say when he bumped into the wall? dam
What do an apple and banana have in common? neither one can drive a tractor
Why'd the monkey fall out of the tree? because he was dead
Where do you find a dog with no legs? right where you left him
Why don't they let blind people skydive? it scares the crap out of the dog
What do you call a fish without an eye? a fsh
Why do chicken coops have two doors? because if it had four it'd be a chicken sedan

and finally...

What goes ha, ha, plonk? someone laughing their head off

...kyle takes a bow and exits stage left.

I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I need to be less of a nice guy. It's killing me. A friend of mine asked to borrow some money from me yesterday and I said sure, but after calling the bank to see why my paycheck had not become available yet (which made drawing my money from an ATM impossible) and my credit card company to see why my payment had not gone through yet, I drove ten miles to put gas in my car in the only place I know of that accepts checks for gas and allows people to write them over so that I'd have money to lend. Basically, I spent an hour of my life trying to lend a friend ten bucks. My God man, that's ridiculous, especially considering that I later called her and found out she didn't need it any more. I don't know why I do that, I don't know why I have this need to be so giving and bend backward so far for my friends. It's to the point of being almost self-detrimental to a point and it ain't no good. But I need to stop that, I really do.

I was really down this morning, I gotta say. This weekend thing has me really depressed...I mean, I wrote a couple haikus...haikus!!! I only do that when I'm going crazy. In any case, I wanted to say that I was uplifted some by light-hearted conversation at lunch about crockpots and crazy people (or are they one in the same? jk). I just think it's amazing how even the most inane things can make a pained heart feel much, much better.

As for the haikus, I'll share one:

Friday night, sun set
dead to the world reborn Sunday
kinda like Jesus.

However...I think I have it nailed down as to why the weekend thing bothers me so much (that over-analysis thing I'm so good at...and dead horse beating). The thing is, I think I'm a pretty good guy. Yeah, I have my faults, but none of them are so major that a touch of understanding and a pinch of love can't overlook and accept...at least I think so. And I love myself, I really do, but when people refuse to spend time with me when I have free time, it makes me question things. I mean, if I were so damn great, why would I be so dead to the world on the weekend? There must be something wrong with me I think to myself -- I must be a son of a bitch bastard, or worse, because everyone I know, everyone that I call a friend, has something better to do come the weekend, something that doesn't include me. Ever. And it's really draining on me, you know? Because here I am trying to be a respectable human being and good friend, but everyone runs away like I'm on fire and spitting gasoline. And it makes me wonder if I'm not shitting myself, it makes me wonder if I should really be hating myself instead of loving myself. It makes me question everything that I think about myself. It makes me doubt myself and my own self-worth. And that ain't good. It ain't good at all. And so every time my friends ditch me on a regular basis (after sunset every Friday and Saturday night being a regular basis), I can't help but feel that I'm grotesque, a monster, evil, boring, whatever because I can't help but feel that there has to be a reason why I'm not worthy of their weekend time. You know? Yeah, well, that's the best I can do for right now but it helps me when I write it all down. I don't really like beating dead horses like this, but I just need to because this is really draining me lately, really draining me.

But I was thinking about one thing -- the catholic church of the middle ages would have considered my regular weekend cycle of death and resurrection in the minds of my friends to be miraculous and worthy of canonization ...imagine: St. Kyle. But, alas, I was born six or seven hundred years too late.

Okay, people, comment. Like Tinkerbell without clapping, I will die without comments. You don't want that do you?

Some things I've been thinking about today:

A (white) female friend at work told me that some middle-aged black men came up and nonchalantly asked her if she was into jungle fever. That is good, but not as good as the best pick-up line (if that's what you want to call it) I've ever heard...yeah...heard: "What's a little oral sex between friends? Seriously."

Art. I think the simplest way I can describe what differentiates the difference between what is true art and what is artsy craft (i.e. sofa-sized watercolors on sale at the airport Raddison this weekend for only $48 or, for that matter, any mass-produced thing sold at an "art" gallery or show) is this: If I can feel more emotion/meaning from a piece than I can grab from a crayon drawing of a four-year-old's stick figure family holding hands in front of a house topped by a slanted chimney with a curly-q of smoke coming out of it, then it has a chance of being called art. But much of the "art" that I have seen lately around my town comes nowhere close. It upsets me that, for so many, art has become nothing more than a unemotional means to making a buck via artistic talent by selling crap to people wanting to pretty up their homes with faux-art.

Finally, an addition to the list from a few nights back of things I would change about myself if I could. It is a big one, numero uno, and I forgot it primarily because my struggle with it has become routine over the last eight years or so since I first recognized my need to change it about myself. The thing is, I have always been too negative, or at least I sound that way. More to the point, I always seem to say things negatively, even if I'm trying to say something positive. It's weird. Especially considering that much more of what I have to say is positive and not negative, though people only hear the negativity of my tone and think I'm a negative person. I think it goes along with my being over-analytical in that I am more comfortable in saying what's not the case than I am in trying to nail things down to what is the case. So, I come off as being wishy-washy and over-critical and negative all the time. It's this fear I have of never of saying something wrong that I just know I will regret saying at some point in the future. I used to be worse, I think, and I feel myself constantly improving at a snail's pace, but I got a lot of room to grow there. And I have reasons to do so now, so I think I'm moving much faster than I have at any point in the past few years. But, I gotta say, being a cynical mofo don't help the cause much.

The sorrows of young Kyle:

I find it odd that I am so damn good at figuring out people, understanding what they are thinking, and otherwise having a good grasp on their emotions and feelings but I am oblivious to how people regard me. I have always been this way...I can look at a total stranger and tell you what they're thinking, I can look at a friend and know instantly what they think about a situation based on their mannerisms and eyes, I can know so much about a person without speaking to them and yet I so often question what's going on in my own life and how people view me. Too often I have had friends begin to scorn me without my noticing, too many times I have found that friends view me in a light that I did not know they did, and worst of all, at times I have found that friends have stronger feelings for me than I knew they did when I would have been totally open to their passions. I don't know why this is. I really don't, and it bothers me.

Too often I question people that I know in my heart I shouldn't question. Too many times I have become paranoid thinking that I am misguided in my understandings of people. I don't get it...how can someone who is so keen to the thoughts of others be so oblivious to those same thoughts when they are directed at him?

I made a fool of myself tonight (at least in my mind) for asking a friend if I made her uncomfortable or something when I compliment her...I felt as though my complimenting her were somehow making her view me as a creep or, as I said, making her feel uncomfortable. I know I was being stupid for feeling I needed to ask that, and yet I did because for a moment I did not know. I don't get it.

It sickens me because I almost feel as though I need to have people be explicit with me about what they want of me, but that isn't cool, is it? Maybe I just don't trust myself and my own judgement. Maybe, deep down, I don't really see what people see in me. Maybe I just need to take a chill pill or something. It's ridiculous, I know, you needn't tell me, but I'm so damn blind to others' view of me.

I had a really nice talk with a friend today about life and love and those sorts of things. It was nice...

...but of course, after that, no one bloody called me. For the record, this week I received four personal calls: One was my dad calling to see if I was going up to visit this weekend, one was a friend with whom I haven't talked to for a couple of weeks wondering how I was doing, one was a call from a friend stranded after her car battery died, and the last was that same friend asking if I wanted to go for coffee and talk about life and love and those sorts of things.

Sometimes I think that maybe I'm being paranoid about my feelings of abandonment, but when I look at my call log on my phone, that paranoia seems justified.

I don't know, at least the friend I talked to today (hi there!) had some sympathy for my plight here, and seems to understand why I feel so crummy about life and the way that it's treating me. That makes me feel less alone...enough so that I had thought that I might erase the post I wrote earlier today, but I'm going to keep it up. It's honest, if a bit over-emotional, and worth keeping up as long as any friend of mine that reads it doesn't take all the blame for its content.

Lyrics near and dear to my heart right now (and my voicemail message):

So you'd better hold on
Cos it's Saturday night
And your friends are all out
And you feel like shit
Cos they never call you
No they never call you
No they never call, never call, never bloody ever ...

from blue flashing light by Travis

The thing is, it's true to my life (even if the rest of the song isn't really) because nobody ever fucking calls on the weekend...unless they have nothing, absolutley nothing, better to do. And it makes me feel like shit. Fucking worthless shit. I can't stand it. I work long days during the week (often from eight in the morning to eight or nine at night) and I am usually incredibly tired, so I would love to sit around and relax for an hour or two before going to bed on those nights and save my weekends for having fun, letting loose, and hanging out...but it's not an option.

Last night I went to the fucking grocery store at midnight because I had nothing better to do. I BOUGHT FUCKING GROCERIES on a FUCKING FRIDAY NIGHT. Meanwhile, there were two or three parties going on and a band performing that includes a couple of friends and not once did anyone call to say, "Hey, there's something going on at...". No. Not once. It makes me feel like a fucking leper, as if people are scared of catching something from me, or worse, having to see my ugly face. Needless to say, it makes me feel worthless. It really does. Frankly, it makes me feel like I want to die. I mean, seriously, I ain't got much going on in my life outside of friends...but this sort of weekend abandonment that happens every fucking week makes me question if I even have that going for me.

The fact that I don't really want to go out so much during the week and the fact that I am completely shunned on weekends means that I have to choose between hanging out with my friends when I don't want to or not hanging out with friends ever. That's a shitty decision because it means that I have to choose between having friends and not having anybody...and I need people around me, you know? So I'm forced into this vicious cycle of fourteen, fifteen, sixteen hour exhausting days for a week followed by forty-eight hours of feeling desperately alone, on the verge of suicidal. It sucks. That's no way to live. Not at all. And any time that I say something to my friends, they just brush it off...I don't think they even have any idea what they are doing to me. I mean, they care about me, I honestly believe that, but they just don't have any fucking clue that this is fucking killing me inside...and it makes me wonder sometimes if they actually do care about me at all. I don't know.

I am venting, and I'm probably exagerating to some extent, but I am still hurting a lot inside right now. I try to be a good friend, I try my damndest by going out of my way to always be there for my friends, helping them out when they need help and the like, and I sometimes feel like they don't see that or something...and then they don't reciprocate. It's not that they're obligated to do so, but isn't that what friendship is about to some extent? I don't know. I don't fucking know. I'm questioning my concept of inter-personal relationships right now I guess.

I just want to go bowling or or make dinner and sit around and talk or play board games or get high and watch movies or take a day trip or sing karaoke or freak out the squares or whatever -- but you gotta do that with someone, not alone, and my only options for social interaction seem to be weeknight trips to the bar. The only option. And I hate having my life dictated by circumstances that I have no control over. I don't know...

A wonderful little poem comprised of misspeaks by our ever so elequent president:

MAKE THE PIE HIGHER
by George W. Bush

I think we all agree, the past is over.
This is still a dangerous world.
It's a world of madmen and uncertainty
and potential mental losses.

Rarely is the question asked
Is our children learning?
Will the highways of the Internet become more few?
How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.
I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.
I know that the human being and the fish can coexist.
Families is where our nation finds hope, where our wings take dream.

Put food on your family!
Knock down the tollbooth!
Vulcanize society!
Make the pie higher! Make the pie higher!

A tiny shimmering piece of hope:

Quinnipiac University | Unnamed Democrat Edges Bush In '04, Quinnipiac University National Poll Finds; Most Americans Are Not Satisfied With Life Today

I want to fucking puke.

America admits suspects died in interrogations

Zu mein Deutsche Leserkreis:

Woher kommt ihr? Ich kenne euch nicht, aber ihr hat "you sent me this url, fool" gesagt. Wie geht's?

(entschuldigen Sie mich bitte...meine Deutschkenntnisse sind etwas eingerostet)

Frank honesty:

I don't have much to say...I really don't. Nothing new is under the Sun right now. But I feel like posting something so I guess I'm going to fall back on the self-introspection again for a moment. Bare with me.

For some reason, I was driving home from the bar and started to think about what I would change about myself if I could. Not so much the stuff about my life, but the stuff about my personality, the inner demons that I face being me and cause me to do things that result in my slapping myself on the forehead and screaming "D'oh!" to myself internally. I guess it's stupid to try and explain it, at least when it's one of those times that just spitting it out would prove itself much more useful. So here it goes, a list of things that bother me about my personality in no particular order:

1. My intensity -- I can not escape this feeling that I always have that I take things way too seriously way too often. I don't like feeling that way. I like levity. I like meaningless actions and purposeless conversation, but I can't seem to shake this feeling that everything I do has some sort of hidden sub-conscious agenda to it. I don't know, maybe everyone is that way or something, but I don't like it so much. And it's made worse, I think, by the fact that because I so often broadcast this intensity, people expect it of me and it somehow feeds it. Like I'd be letting them down somehow if I wasn't so damn intense all the time. And that's not even to mention the fact that intensity can be creepy, but if I'm interested in something I have a tendency to throw myself at that thing 100% and block out everything else in the world, even my own thoughts. People probably think I'm a raving psychopathor something. I don't know. It's wierd.

2. My guilt complex -- I have this constant nagging sense of not wanting to cause anyone any sort of trouble or something. It goes along with what I said about intensity and my thinking that other people expect it of me in that I don't want to throw curve balls for people because I don't want to confuse them. Or something. I have always been this way. I have a hard time asking for favors, even small ones, to the point where I think that even asking people to hang out with me (or, for that matter, to go out on a date with me) is infringing on their personal space or something and so I often feel real cruddy after having even talked to someone, wasting even the time of a short phone call. Again, wierd.

3. My shyness -- I don't know if it's necessarily the shyness that bothers me or the fact that it mixed with the guilt complex freezes me up sometimes. I get the two confused quite a bit. I feel trapped inside my mind sometimes because I don't want to say or do something and I don't know if it's because I'm too shy to do it, or if I feel like my saying or doing something is going to somehow bother or otherwise curtail someone else's life or something. For instance, many times throughout my life I have had a crush on someone -- no big whoop there -- but I rarely have been able to act on it because I never want to ruin someone's day by throwing it out there, or something like that. I don't know how to explain it, maybe a better example...let's say I want to say something to someone -- I might be well prepared to say it having practiced it in my head over and over and over again, but I start wondering if it's right to say it because I get this feeling like maybe my saying it will somehow change that person's night, week, or even life. And I don't know if it's because I'm scared or because I don't want to chance leaving a footprint on that person's mind or heart or whatever.

4. My over-analyzing of everything -- I think too much. I go way beyond looking before I leap and instead choose to go the frickin encyclopeadia in my mind and research the hell out of everything before I do or say anything. Hell, sometimes before I'm even willing to think something. Few words pass through my lips without me having thought about them intensely (the exceptions being when I'm drunk or having an episode of anxiety/depression), and so many things that I want to say get bottled up because of the fact that I begin to question why I want to say them, how I want to say them, when and where I want to say them and the fact that I've run through every conversation that I think I may have at any given stage of my day and life only makes it tougher because things never are the way that you might plan for them in your head. You know? I mean, right now I am scared to move forward with my life -- career-wise -- because I'm overly-concerned about making the wrong decision and shutting myself out of other possibilities, wasting precious years of my life chasing a dream that I might find to have been not so dreamy after I get there...of course in the process of analyzing things having wasted several precious years of my life doing so (if I'd gone to grad school after graduating, I could have had a PhD by now, or a masters and law degree, or a couple masters, or something). I don't know. I over analyze things to the point of making myself frigid.

5. My curiosity -- Don't get me wrong, curiosity is good, but an over-abundance of it can be crippling. I want to experience everything in life. I have taken detours through dark alleys along life's way just to see what would happen. It could kill me, it could land me in jail, it could ostracize me from society, or even just change me in a bad, bad way. I know this, but still I want to know everything even though in finding out more and more I find that there's just more and more to find out about. I have done a lot of crazy-ass shit in my life, and every time I do one thing, all it does is open up three or four more doors for me to peek into and it overwhelms me to the point where I can't help but tense up and stand there, afraid to move because I know that the next door that I open could be the door that does me some harm in some way. Aside from that, my curiosity can be annoying when I begin to try to figure out people and situations, and it can push people away. I can't be around someone who receives a phone call without asking who it was and what they wanted...I can't. And I know it's none of my business to ask and I know that whatever their answer might be it is not going to affect me (probably), but I just want to know. But people take it as prying or something and it bothers them (and I can understand why it might...even though it doesn't bother me at all -- it flatters me somehow) and makes them feel like I'm creepy or overly-nosey or somehow critical of them. Even though it's not.

6. My enigmaticism -- (yeah, I know I made the word up) I feel sometimes as though I do not present myself to the world as I am. The above stuff blinds me and makes me not so easily understood and the usual human tendency to categorize things leads to my being prematurely set into some sort of stereotype or whatever before people really get to know me. I try to be open, but things get in the way of that. Humiltity, shyness, guilt, and all of that push my self inward which causes people to have to dig in order to find "the real me". That's not fair to ask people to do that, I realize that, but I can't help it. And it's not that I have secrets to hide or am ashamed of who I am (even with this list, I can honestly say that I am proud of who I am and that I love myself), but that I make it difficult for people to read me or something. I don't know why...or rather I do which is why I am listing these things about myself. But I wish I didn't. I wish I could be more open, I wish people, in general, were more apt to work with people like me and have the patience to peel away the layers that it sometimes takes to get to my core. I wish instead of wearing my heart on my sleave and burying my mind deep, deep inside, I could keep them both inside the flap of my jacket in order to flash them to anyone that I care to.

But now I'm getting tired-poetic which generally sounds more cheesey rather than poetic, so I'll stop now. I just wanted to post this because I want to explain myself personally even though most, if not all, of these things are in those links I have posted in recent days about my personality type. And because it's all part of my personality, it's not as if I would really change these things if I could...they are what make me me and that's just the way things are. I don't think any of this stuff is bad or makes me a less-than-good person, or even a sick-in-the-head-person, but they are all just things that I wish more people in my circle of acquaintences were aware of, I'd probably have more friends if they did...and the fact that I'm starting to pass out this URL to people that I know can only help me in my quest. If they're interested enough to check out this blog, I owe them an explanation for the way that I act sometimes...because I think that just explaining some of these self-criticisms that I have of myself makes me a little more open and understandable or something...because that is really all I'm after in life right now, to be understood by people or at least to have people want to try and understand me. And, of course, love me. :)

So whadda y'all think? This blog needs a little more commenting and all...

It is incredible to me that stuff like this goes on in this country. Seriously, I worry about where we are headed when political satire is denounced by and causes threats to be made by the counsel of the second most powerful man in America. Look, the Consitution allows for free speech, most non-Republicans seem to be willing to accept that (and, to be fair, most Republicans accept that too) and satire is one of the most appropriate forms of speech to protect...after all, humor is one form of communication that crosses all lines and binds us together...and in the case of politics, satire has a long history of making damn good points.

But then, the current administration can't take a joke.

But I can't say I'd expect much more of them.

A prayer:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

Sometimes I need to ask God for things. Not often, as I feel guilty doing so, but once in a while yes...

Wow, this is like the second day in a row when I've come online to post something but not been able to find much of anything...nor think of anything going on that's worthy of or appropriate for posting. Let's see...I delivered tonight on icy roads that made driving more like ice skating -- the furthest delivery I made stiffed me, my having almost crashed and gotten stuck a couple of times on the way there. Fuckers. Tip, damn you, tip.

I talked today with some people at work and got on the whole gen-x relationships topic...they agreed with everything that I said (or vice versa), but none of it was anything I haven't said on here so I won't repeat it...though it's comforting to hear other people think the same thing as me.

I also talked about racism and how my generation is less prejudiced than my parents' generation, but that kids growing up today seem to have even fewer prejudicial tendancies. That was a nice talk.

Hmmm...that's about it, really. Oh well. Sorry for wasting your time.

Fast on March 5th — Pope John Paul II stepped up his crusade against a looming war in Iraq yesterday, urging the world’s Christians to stage a fast for peace on the same day as his envoy is to meet US President George W. Bush.

I've been reading more about my personality type and wanted to share this little tid-bit with you...people that know me in real life or read this blog regularly might see the truth in it as it pertains to me:

The Architect INTPs deal with the environment primarily through intuition, and their strongest quality, the thinking function, remains relatively hidden except in close associations. Therefore, INTPs are often misunderstood, seen as difficult to know, and seldom perceived at their true level of competency. They are inclined to be shy except when with close friends, and their reserve is difficult to penetrate. They are very adaptable until one of their principles is violated. Then INTPs are not adaptable at all! They may have difficulty in being understood by others because they tend to think in a complicated fashion and want to be precise, never redundant in their communications. Because their feeling qualities may be underdeveloped, they may be insensitive to the wants and wishes of others, often quite unaware of the existence of these wants and wishes.

I know, I'm posting too many posts right now, but I wanted to add one more thing before I go to bed:

Even though I have taken the "horny" off of my mood indicator thingy, I still will have wet dreams tonight of being savagely mounted and ravaged continuously for hours on end. But I am sick of saying I'm horny. It is an empty thought when you really think of it.

I just wanted to say something that, although true, is not the sort of thing I usually post. I'm sick of being the virginal nice guy with no outward expression of hormonal tendancies...I tend to like the shock value that the truth can sometimes have. c'est la vie.

US prepares to use toxic gases in Iraq

Okay, so let me get this straight...we need to invade Iraq because they possess "weapons of mass destruction" such as chemical agents that can be used to cause harm to the US populace and others around the world, but in the process of invading Iraq we are willing to use chemical agents to cause harm to their people...all so that they can't do the same to us.

I read Catch-22 before and I can't help but be suffering from a big-ass case of deja vu right now...

I hate it when you're drunk (as I am sorta kinda now) and you push play on the CD player and hear a song that you suddenly have some hyper-connection with. As it is, I get home and push play to hear Mr. Mick Jagger and the kids telling me that I can't always get what I want, but that if I try sometimes, I just might find I get what I need. How poetic is that thought.

I am often guilty of wanting more out of life, but that, at times, seems grossly selfish on my part. There is very little that I have that is actually going against me. I have my health (minus the occasional and temporary flu and cold), I have enough money to get by without being hungry or cold, I have friends that care about me, I have family that feels the same way, I have so little to ask for. I really don't. I mean, I wish I had no debt, I wish I had a girlfriend, I wish I had a more stable income, and perhaps a better, more varied social life, but these are just wants. Sometimes you need to remind yourself that you got things pretty good, you know? Sometimes you need to see that there is nothing else that you need. And it goes beyond that...

Sometimes you need to take a step back and realize that everything that you're looking for is right there in front of your face. Even if that means swallowing your pride and admitting that you haven't realized it before.

...advice from a drunk listening to drunks on the CD player.