google's got me pegged

This here blog is ranked number ten under the google search Nice Guy Syndrome Romantic ineptitude. I am glad to be of service to nice guys suffering this horrible afflication everywhere.

he's here! he's here!

Our supreme and glorious leader, heir to the throne of David, holder of the sceptor of truth, wisdom, and the American Way; our esteemed father, protector of the children, he who stands tall in the swift current of inequity, holding aloft the firey sword of vengance mightily in his right fist, clutching an olive branch of peace in his left; Our all-knowing lord and savior, our beneveolent life-giver, and juror of right and wrong; our epitomal idol of all that is good, ethical, and pure in this world and in the next, Herr Fuehrer George W. Bush is two blocks away at this very moment and all I want to do is be there, front and center, holding a big sign high above my 6-foot-seven frame that reads as everyone's favorite Vice President might say:

Go Fuck Yourself

I'm not though. I'm here in the library typing this....which is just as well since Gitmo is too hot for me this time of year...maybe if he swings around mid-October or so....

In related news, guess who I get to meet on Monday? Yup, that's right...the next president of the United States, John Kerry. Being a good little volunteer and all, I got a special ticket that puts me in line to shake his hand. So here's something for a comment box discussion: What should I say?

dream a little dream

I just woke up from a four-hour nap. I got to go into work this morning for a little mop-up sort of session and so had to wake up way earlier than I have grown accustomed to over the past couple of weeks. In any case, I had a nap dream. I don't if anyone else finds nap dreams to be the most vivid, unusual, and meaningful dreams that thy have, but I often do...and the one today was no exception. I woke up with thoughts racing through my brain, as if I had been told some mysterious secret that I do not yet fully comprehend. It started rather normally...with me visiting I think San Francisco, hanging out with a friend that I had only just been reacquainted with (which itself is rather telling) and regretting that we aren't doing more...just hanging out and doing stupid shit we could do anywhere. Anyway, it gets good as I gt into the army somehow which is where I start off on a recollection that I wrote as quickly as I could....

I am in a battle meant to be hand to hand, sword drawn and ready to attack the forces which are strangely wating across a sall fence, ready to squeeze their forces through a small gate. I am the first one waiting for them at the door and manage to thrust my sword through the chest of the first enemy combatant that makes it through the gate. I retreat as more run through, allowig my fellow soldiers to make their first strike. As I move fifty feet in from the center of action, turn around to see two enemy uniforms being worn by the sort of 18-year-old man-boys that fill armies coming towards me. I stab the first through the chest with my sword with no effort and withdrawl my steel. The second, seeing me in an akward position, seems happy to see that he will easily defeat me but I simply use the body of the dead foe in my hands as a shield, and thrust my sword through both, killing the other.

I am sickened by what I have done, looking at my sword and seeing the now coagulating blood oozing down the blade. I walk from the battlefield. Into a mall.

I walk through the mall grasping my sword in an upward position, wandering from store to store wanting desparately to wash it clean only to ened up at a K-Mart where there is some sort of celebration going on that doesn't permit my leaving through the front gates outside given that they are padlocked. I look around, lift up the chainlink fence, and scurry under.

I make it to the luxurious home of some sort of frat-brother of mine who is having some sort of foormal dinner to which I am not only invited, but am to be honored as a war hero. I take every opportunity to tell anyone who will listen that I am a deserter and that, though I killed three of the enemy with no effort, I still left the field of battle without leave and that I cannot kill again. I am given a seat at the second highest table.

I run away in this humungous house which has suddenly become the palacial mansion of some fictitious rich family member and decide to hide in the third floor living area where I know no one goes but to sleep.

While there, getting ready to take a seat in a big comfy chair, a girl walks in, towel wrapped around her as if she had just stepped out of the shower. She is beautiful – blonde with a nice face – but with some neo-cool hairdo. I apologize for being there, but she says “no. sit. stay” By this point I am no longer in my bloody uniform, nor carrying my blood-stained steel and I do not feel of myself as a war-hero-deserter as I had been downstairs. In fact, she doesn't even question why I am there, but rather makes some statement of the vanity and stupidity of the whole affair – the wrangling over position among her family(who is hosting the dinner) and the lawsuits that go between them all and how she wants nothing of any of it. This girl, she tells me that she is 18 and a high school senior, sick of the rules and bullshit of high school and oh so very ready to enter the “real world”. When I tell her that the real world is not so grand, she laughs at me and tells me that I am being stupid. She says that I am lucky because I do not have to do what anyone says, take classes that I don't want to take. She says, “You can take advanced math classes if you want, read what you want, live hoow you want. You can write what you want, not just what they tell you...”

It is then that I woke up, feeling very refreshed and somehow renewed in a dream which I do not yet fully understand, but feel as though it is a wake-up call of srts to myself. My mind trying to tell me that I needn't feel so determined to play by any set of arbitrary rues like those set forth in war, in social situations, or in romantic ones too. It's okay that I am different, that I am appalled by the world in which we live and that I, as an adult, have every right to step forward and do things my way. There is so much to think about.

like a knee in the testes

I am by no means a manly-man. I am not the sort of guy who meets a girl, grabs her by the hair, and drags her around a bit -- showing her off to my friends on the way to my bedroom where I treat her as little more than a platform for several warm, moist, orifices in which to deseminate my over-the-top hormones. (Man, I sound like one of those "I hate men" lesbians when I talk about other guys, don't I?)

No, I am one of those guys that likes to like a girl, love a girl. I like to befriend a girl, find out if she's worth uncovering my heart for since it's an either/or with my heart -- either stashed deep inside or way the hell out on my sleeve. I treat women, just as all people, with the utmost respect and certainly do not treat them as a means to horny end...but rather as a wonderful, beautiful, and amourous end to themselves.

That said, when a girl reminds me that I am a "nice guy" and rather "inexperienced" in comparison to the vast majority of asshole guys out there, it is rather upsetting to me. When I am told that I lack assertiveness or passion by a girl, just because I won't immediately slip my hand up her dress in the first ten minutes of knowing her...or even after knowing her for months, feeling that it's more appropriate to wait until she is ready for such a thing...it puts me on the defensive, feeds my self-hatred, makes me feel like I'm somehow less of a man because I'm not like the rest of them. It fuels my shyness, heightens my self-awareness, and steals my thunder, if you will.

...it makes my balls suck up so far inside me you might mistake me a eunich if you saw me naked.

Please don't do that.

shove it

To any right-winger or Republican that is having a hissy about Theresa Heinz Kerry telling a reporter to "shove it" I have only this to say (you might be able to cull the sarcastic usage of our current President and VP's language from it too):

Fuck off, you're being a major league asshole. Big time.

blog reading

I ran across an entry this morning in another blog about a blogger disclaimer that's been out there for awhile. It reminded me of a question I was asked just last week (in RL) about reading other peoples' diaries and rooting through their stuff and the like. At first I thought it was just a weird out of the blue sort of question, but then I came to realize that maybe it was her way of telling me that she peeks in on this blog from time to time...

The thing is, I don't care who reads this thing. If I've told someone where it is, then they have every right to come and read what I've written whenever they damn well please. There are only a few people who I've told outright, and they are people I trust. Only one person from my real life (Tiger Lilly) reads this thing with any sort of regularity, but maybe there are more. I really don't know. If, however, you are reading this and you do know me...please tell me that you do because it is just sort of weird. It's not that I have anything to hide from you, but looking in on here without me knowing is sort of like peeking in my windows at night without my knowing when it'd be much easier and a whole hell of a lot less creepy if you just told me you were doing it.

That said, it is quite possible that there are people out there who could have found this site through my use of the handle that I've been using since I first got online back in 1995..."pques". There have been plenty of people in and out of my life since then and frankly it wouldn't surprise me a whole lot if one of them got to thinking "what the heck ever happened to kyle..." and typed pques into google or whatever and found me. If that's the case, I don't mind either, but I'd like to know that they were reading this too, you know?

Look, a blog is public by it's very nature. Those of us that publish them do so knowing full well that anybody, literally anybody, could read what they are saying. In my case, there are certain details of my life that I leave out because of this fact. Certain personal details that I choose not to publish so publically (whether that be real names or kisses and tellings or what have yous). What I publish is out there for anyone to read and that's the way I like it. Frankly, I do keep a rather inactive personal journal at home on paper for my more private thoughts and the like...looking in on this blog (and any others...every blogger should know this) is not the same thing as going into someone's bedroom and reading their private thoughts. That would be wrong -- worthy of scorn and a loss of trust. They may very well be the very same private thoughts that they would share to the world on the internet, but they are not being shared openly. You know?

In any case, it's been awhile since I've gone through my thoughts on this matter and since things have been brought up a few times in the very recent past to remind me of that fact, I thought I would enunciate my thoughts on the matter once again for those that may have joined my little menagerie in the past however long it's been.

peace out.

questions...

Is it wrong to embellish one's life towards the aim of amusement? Is it wrong to make jokes about those things which we know nothing about through personal experience? Is it wrong to pretend that the things that need to be dealt with are fine, just fine? Is it wrong to cry? Is it wrong to not know where life is going? Is it wrong to put others' needs ahead of my own wants? Is it wrong to ask for more than what is being handed out?

On Sunday I was flipping through a bunch of old notebooks, trying to find one I could use to do some writing, and I came across many a poem and random thought I'd written down through the past ten years or so...and I find that I have not grown an inch in so many years. The things that I struggle with now are the things that I have struggled with forever.

Things muct change,

things must change now.

one out of thirty

That's how many American's are in the correctional system...3.2% Isn't it ironic that a country that prides itself on being so "free" (and blames others' "jealousy" of that freedom for any attacks -- literal or figurative) locks up or otherwise keeps under it's watchful eye so many of it's citizens?

From the NY Times:

The number of Americans under the control of the criminal justice system grew by 130,700 last year to reach a new high of nearly 6.9 million, according to a Justice Department report released today.

The total includes people in jail and prison as well as those on probation and parole. This is about 3.2 percent of the adult population in the United States, the report said.

The growth in what the report termed the "correctional population" comes at a time when the crime rate nationwide has been relatively stable for several years. It also comes when many states, faced with budget deficits, have passed new, less strict sentencing laws in an attempt to reduce the number of inmates.

new site

I just signed up for a new angelfire site to help me with my money woes. It's your typical cyber-begger site with the catch that it doesn't cost anyone a thing since it relies on advertising leads and the like. Check it out and click a few links if you like.

Now back to looking for a job...

life lessons and love questions

In my 27 years of lovelessness I have learned many things. I have learned to accept rejection, I have learned to not expect much, I have learned that love sucks if it's not reciprocated. I have also learned, by virtue of so much hurt, to always find a reason or way to not have romantic or sexual feelings about a girl in case the need should arise...and I have succeeded in that for many many years now and have several would-be-girlfriends-if-only-they-liked-me-like-that friends as the result.

...but what if the only thing that you can find to grasp onto is that you're scared of ruining and losing the friendship? What if you just cannot find a single thing wrong with a girl? What then?

my superpower

It disgusts me sometimes, but I should be proud I guess. In the comics, some have the power to fly, some have the power to breathe underwater, some have the ability to move things with their minds. As a kid, we wish that we could fly or run super fast or become invisible (mostly so you can sneak into the lockerrooms of members of the opposite sex). In real life, however, not many people have such a power...it eludes us...there's nothing that we can do so amazingly well that one could actually call it "super". I do though.

I have this remarkable ability to be really close to girls, be able to spend huge amounts of time with them and have both of us enjoy that time tremendously, talk about anything, share anything, have all those sorts of things that make for long-lasting and deeply loving relationships present, and still remain "just friends". ugh.

...someone needs to start a comic book about me and my exploits...really truly they should.

money whoring

As we all know, I am dirt poor and shit. Actually, that is even more true given that I ran out of work Thursday last week. And though the internet is treating me well, it's not well enough yet to support me entirely and I have yet to hear about unemployment, so.....

I put new ads up there on top of this blog. The ads I chose are ones where I get paid for leads or one-month trials which means that if any of the stuff interests you at all, you can get free information (or a month's worth of free, edited, movies) and I can make money. A win-win situation if I ever saw one. So anyway, enough of the plugging myself...

random thoughts

I've been doing a lot of thinking about society in order to get my mind off of other things that haunt me and I've found myself stuck on some thoughts...like how there are so many people who can list off stats for however many baseball players and yet can't even name one vote that any of their elected representatives in government have made in this session of Congress. Or like how so many people can sit through the first hour and forty-five minutes of the last episode of American Idol in order to find out who's going to be the net has-been, yet can't sit through a political debate or speech or whatever to become informed on issues that actually impact them. It bothers me how so many people will hop online and run a search for whatever the hot celebrity news story of the day is, yet can't be bothered to do so to look at current events. This bothers me...after all, this is a (supposed) representative democracy and it seems that it's not too much to ask.

It goes, I think with the way that people will honk their horns in a drive-thru because they're not getting their food handed out to them, without having to even step out of it, quite fast enough. The way that people will curse their microwaves because their not cooking fast enough, how people will toss aside a relationship because it's not progressing quickly enough, how people will rage because the car ahead of them is only going five miles per hour over the speed limit, how people will give up dreams because they'll take too long to acheive, how people will do just about anything to avoid personal responsibility when there's anyone else around that blame can be pinned on.

Yeah, I'm grumpy today.

And to whoever the asshole is that found this site by googling "dad's penis swells inside his daughter"...Go fuck yourself, the world would be better off with you dead.

i hate the library

So I'm at the library in order to use the comuters because, as you know, Sony VAIO notebooks SUCK (I hope that shows up in google) and I'm trying to run a startup internet business here. Anyway, I can't sem to figure out which is worse about the library computer experience...the annoying bitch that needs to verbally offer color commentary on every little thing she's doing on the computer across the table from me, the keyboards that have been pounded to submission (and barely-working order) by non-typists doing the search and destroy/hunt and peck REAL HARD method, or the beautiful aroma of homeless guy body order.... mmm mmm good.

Oh well, I gotta get back to work since they only give me an hour...

ironical

I was just at a friend of mine's garage sale at her house when I had one of those weird things happen that, although it's not exciting or anything, still fits into the whole "you can't make this shit up" files:

As we were packing up the unsold goods of the day, a man pulls up in a nice looking SUV and crosses the street. As he walks up to the front yard, he immediately passes a table of books for sale to his right and, just as immediately, points out a book as having been his. We all thought maybe he was saying that as some sort of "I've been looking for this book" sort of way but, no, he continues by picking a book up and saying that his picture is in there...and sure enough it is.

He's a bit upset, it seems, that this book of poetry was found on a garage sale table top mixed in with a bunch of other "fill a bag for a buck" stuff and so we asked him to sign it for my friend Melissa who had probably gotten it for free from the bookstore she works at anyway.

The inscription was something like "Dear Melissa -- I hope you can find at least one, one poem in here worth reading...." (I do know you underlined the repeated "one").

In any case, I thought it strangely ironic (or "ironical" as the illiterates are saying, or at least singing, these days) that all this happened. Oh well, maybe you had to be there.

payday

I love payday, payday is good. I just wish I would have more of them, you know? Wok for me ends sometime this next week and I don't really know what I'm going to do. The internet is making me money, but not quite enough to live off of. I will probably file for unemployment, but a large chunk of that will probably be taken away to pay for the debts that I supposedly owe the state of fucking Michigan for having my car break down last year when I was on it. I am also going to make a point of going to bars, asking to speak to the manager and stand before him or her as my badass 6-foot-7 self and ask if they're hiring bouncers and/or security types...and hopefully get paid for that under the table. That'd be sweet. Anyway, yeah, money crunch yet again for kyle.

On the plus-side, I do have a car for the next two months. My brother, who turns 16 today, won' be getting his liscense until September so he has graciously allowed me the use of his car, made available by my step-mother's attainment of new wheels herself. This will hopefully expand my horizons in the job-search...no longer having to tak into account bus schedules and biking distances when looking to apply somewhere (though I'd still have to find something that will earn me enough o buy a car by September).

Bah...This computer at the library is pissing me off. Too many retards fingr pecking and destroying the keyboard so I have to backspace way oo often. Forgive the sloppiness of misspellings and the like, please...it's no my fault.

Okay, enough typing...

the terrible twenties

The twenties have become to my generation what the teens ere for generations past...a time to explore and find oneself before settling down and getting ready to live the life that will take you into he years when your hair grows grey and the skin wrinkles. For some, the twenties stretch on for a decade or more into life and for others, it's a transformation that occurs earlier than that...for some, like me, seemingly waaaaaaaaaaaaay too early.

It's a problem that I face every day. In high school, I abandoned my childhood friend when I decided that I was going to start acting all mature and shit and they continued with sophomoric hijinks (sophomoric being pretty good for Freshman). In later years, I have lost friends to inevitable aging as I got sick of bars and parties and bullshit, wanting to entertain myself in more civilized ways...sitting down and talking over coffee and that sort of thing. I am, I think, a 27-year-old going on 38 in many ways and have always been one of those "ten years older than he is" sorts of types.

I am being reminded of this again lately through a friend. We get along famously. At no time in my life have I ever had someone that I can spend so much time together with a single person and enjoy every minute of it as I do with her...not wanting to say goodbye even though my eyelids can barely stay half open at 4:30 in the morning. At no time have I had someone in my life that I feel so open to...someone that I feel absolutely no need to keep anything from, knowing deep in my heart that she will still care for me even though she sees my worst. At no time in my life have I ever known someone that truly dreams the same dreams, feels the same feelings, fears the same fears as me as completely as she does. She and I share a most beautiful friendship.

As you can tell from the pronouns, this friend is a female and, my being a guy and all, feeling this way about a female friend, I can't help but feel that there can, is, or at the very least, should be something more between us. After all, on top of this most amazing friendship, I find her as beautiful on the outside as I do inside and she claims that I ain't too bad looking either. Though I would never trade in our friendship for anything, I can't help but feel that our friendship would make the most fantastic of foundations for something more. I want there to be something there.

For weeks now, I have beaten myself up because I just haven't been able to bring myself to express my "more than friends" type thoughts to her even though I wanted to. I haven't been able to put my finger on why, but I knew that I was afraid of something. Fear can be a funny thing, sometimes, when it paralyzes you for unknown reasons, but I think I have figured it out and it all comes back to this life-long battle I've had with being too ready to enter the next stage of my life before any of my compatriots.

The thing is, every time that we speak, every time I see her, she manages to say or do something that makes me feel that she doesn't want what I do in a relationship. I want stability, I want closeness, I want permanence. I want to settle down and begin a family, a career, and work my way into life. She constantly drops threats of moving away, half-mocks the guys she's casually dated for having been uncomfortable with her seeing other people, talks all the time of bar-room romances that meant absolutely nothing to her -- in short, makes me think that she's not nearly as ready to settle down as I am. There's this fear that what I want and what she wants are two very different things...this fear that if we were to explore the depths of our feelings for each other, that she wouldn't take it as seriously as I would. This fear that if we took steps in that direction, that lack of seriousness would lead to feelings of betrayal and distrust on my part...which would not only disrupt a Relationship in progress, but would seriously scar a friendship that is nearer and dearer to my heart than most any I have ever had. I fear losing our friendship so much that it paralyzes me, even though I can't help but feel that she and I could have something amazing. Really, honestly, truly amazing.

And so I sit here on the edge of fear and find myself waiting for some confidence in the thought that maybe I need not fear these things. That someday soon she finds herself willing to put aside her past and focus instead on the future...a future that I find myself hoping includes me in some major role.

Of course, now that I realize this it is something that I can talk about with her, and maybe find out if all of this fear is just my paranoid nonsense or whatever and if she might feel the same way. After all, I may just be wrong and she might just be looking for everything I'm looking for, talking smack about moving away and all for whatever purpose (I think we all know I sometimes make grandious predictions about my next steps in life from time to time). I hope so. When the opportunity presents itself for her and I to talk (she's out of town for a week now), I will update.

p.s. In case you couldn't realize, this is what's been driving me nuts so much in the past couple of weeks.

the terrible twos

I just realized that in twelve days, this blog will be two years old...wow. I might add that blogger has informed me that I have made slightly over 800 post over that time. That's more than two posts a day on average. Double wow. I need a life, don't I? hehe ;)

In the next step of the evolution of this site, I am hoping to revamp the format a bit so that it doesn't look so dark and scary and stuff...further more, I'm currently exploring the possibilities of adding audio posts to spice things up a little (by "exploring the possibilities" I mean I've signed up for it, but have yet to use it).

Anyway, to those that have been reading for any stretch of that time...thanks.

insomnia sucks

I haven't been able to get to sleep the last couple of nights. I lie there, clenching my eyes shut, trying to stop my brain from running through the course of a million thoughts but fail at the task. I go through conversations I want to have, need to have, should have had already trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my life right now and how I feel about things and people. It is hell.

Such troubles do have their pluses however, as I have unlocked some of those thoughts that I had stashed away from myself, some unwittingly, deep within the recesses of my own mind. I have some much needed clarity, I see some light at the end of the tunnel that I am currently in...sunlight is good.

oh how i yearn for the simpler days of youth

Ugh. I realy don't know what I'm feeling right now in my life...it's a sort of emptiness, a sort of vagueness...I don't know where I am standing or where I am going. I hate these funks (as you all know), but this time it's worse because I feel so on the brink of so many things. In the movies, it would be like that long shot where nothing's going on but some dramatic music, telling you that something big is about to happen...only in life I don't know what it is.

Oh well, I guess it's only fair...things have been going well for me for months on end on and I've felt quite sure of myself and the direction I've been going for quite awhile. I guess a little toll in the form of self-doubt on the highway of life is an acceptable thing from time to time.

bums, bums, everywhere

I broke my bike last week. It cost me $55 to repair...but it's a story worth the money.

I ride home from work everyday on a public trail that runs along the river. In places, it also runs close to the expressway and, as such, has access roads leading off so that crews can access billboards and, I suppose, the expressway proper.

Now me being the curious type and all, I have always wondered where some of these longer roads led and so, last Tuesday (or was it Monday?) I turned off the trail and followed what amounts to little more than a log and stick strewn two-track around and back and to the expressway. About a hundred and fifty yards down, the trailed turned split, on path leading under an expressway overpass over the river, and so I followed it until I was under the bridge...

Once there, I looked up and noticed a mattress and some collected crap in that flat spot above the cement incline (that place has got to have a name)...a bum's house I surmised. I thought little of it for a few seconds until my imagination took over and I envisioned the occupier of that abode seeing me there and, knowing that no one would hear me scream, attack me, take my money, rape me, kill me, or otherwise whatever a bum might do to a guy...even when he is 6'7" and not exactly frail looking. I freaked out, turned my bike and tried to peddle away...

But a stick grabbed me. More specifically, it grabbed my rear time and wedged itself between the spokes and bent my derailer out of place. Petrified, I peddled harder, bending the damned metal even more out of position without turning the wheel any...I knew that I was a goner, but it didn't stop me...I picked up my bike and ran with it to get back on the trail and probably survived a butt-raping of Deliverence proportions by a bum by mere seconds. So I imagine.

Anyway, and this is where the story becomes uninteresting, I got back to the safety of the trail and bent the derailer back to a place where I could ride again and it worked...until riding home the next day and having it fall apart screw by washer by cog... THE END.

It is times like these that I realize that my life and the decisions that I make therein are too often dictated by my imagination and fear. It is fear and an over-analyzation of every possible outcome that decide what I do and don't do in my life. Really pathetic I think. It doesn't matter in what facet it is, it always comes down to which route will lead to the more safe place, the least painful experience, the most moderate outcome. That is no way to live life...without chances. *sigh*

As such, I have decided to add the following things to my list of life goals in the hopes to goad myself into facing my greatest fears:

1. Create a musical album of inane blathering and lame music, putting it up for sale on the internet.
2. Master the ancient art of cunnilingus (any guinea pigs out there?).
3. Compete in a demolition derby.
4. Go sky-diving.
5. Quit making fucking lists.

antsy, antsy me

Last night was one of those nights where you just know that you shouldn't be alone because you just know that the night will last forever and you'll be thinking the whole time about this and that and everything else. It was one of those nights where you just know that you gotta find something to do with someone, but no one's around to call and say "hey, wanna hang out?". It was one of those nights where, in the past, I would freak out about being all of it, but in this case didn't...

Yeah, I ended up sitting around thinking about way too much and half-driving myself crazy but the important thing is that I didn't end up crazy. It was long, but not too long. It was not lonely, but not hopelessly lonely. These are good things all of them...maybe not to the great masses of people, but most definitely for me.

okay, maybe a real post

So I was talking with the girl that I mentioned a year or so ago (April-June 2003) that was moving to Germany and all that jazz and she doesn't believe me that I had a crush on her at all...let alone as huge a crush on her as I did. She said "but you didn't make any moves or anything" to which all I could do was roll my eyes to myself and think of how many times I've told her how futile and impossible I feel long-distance relationships are. I mean, I wanted to jump her but the whole certain doom of doing so thing hung over my head too much (as anyone reading this blog or the soapbox back then knows all too well).

This sucks because it makes me wonder how many times in life I've had a crush or whatever without the girl even realizing it. Am I that good at masking my feelings? Tiger Lilly, you have personal experience here, am I? Ugh.

i'm still alive

Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. Computer's still acting funky (in fact, this is the first time it's booted up in almost two full weeks) and the hour at the library and occasional use at a friend's house or whatever just doesn't allow time to do any posting. You know? Anyway, things are going fine. Just fine. Maybe better than fine, but I don't know.