And another month bites the dust.

As the last day of September winds down, I can't say that anything great happened, but I did watch "A Bug's Life" on tv (I hadn't seen it before) and got a few chuckles. I also got a lot done for school. Not as much as I needed, but I'm up to date. What else? Umm ... I ate a lot? I got cold every time I wasn't under a full cover of blankets on the couch? I watched a lot of reruns and crappy tv? Well, like I said, nothing great happened.

If nothing else, however, I have enough peace of mind to go to school tomorrow (at least I feel that way right now). Considering I was fairly well paralyzed this time last week and skipped classes last Monday, I suppose I'm in somewhat better shape. Yippee.

Well, it certainly all could be much worse. I guess that's the positive way to look at it.

Posted Written at 10:11 PM

September 29, 2001

I'm tired. Physically and mentally. Part of it I think is the cold; part of it is the incessant reading and writing I have to go through, day in and day out; and part of it is more depression, something I've been holding back more-or-less for the last few days, but knowing that it's going to beat my ass in the next few days regardless of how hard I try.

The thoughts in my mind are the same things I whine about on a regular basis in this Journal, so I'm not going to bore you with it. I'm just over it. I think part of being so tired is just that I'm tired of dealing with these same thoughts, problems, and fears. I just want it all to end.

But you probably don't give a damn about that, and who could blame you. Unfortunately, it's pretty much all I can think about right now, so I don't have anything else to say. Just that you should appreciate your life; hopefully you don't have such fucked up problems with depression, and you should really take a moment to appreciate how good of a thing that really is for you.

Posted Written at 9:32 PM

September 28, 2001

Be looking for a supercalafragalistical celebratory re-christening on theDreamworld website in two weeks. October 13th will be the nine month anniversary of launching this site, and that will give me (I hope) just enough time to put the last pieces into place for a supercool transition. What's the big deal? Well, maybe not a lot in the sense that a fair amount of things will look similar, but a few changes will be cool and a lot of behind-the scenes things will be in place.

First, theDreamworld.org is, as I mentioned a little while ago, licensed to me, and I have now set up a tremendous webhosting through DreamHost (seemingly the perfect host for theDreamworld) which gives me a whole slew of mailboxes and 60MB of site space (which is way more than I know what to do with). I also have access to a lot of cool CGI scripts (tools and toys that work within normal HTML code) and support of Flash items (if I get ambitious enough to create some animated stuff for the site). Additionally, DreamHost has a Guestbook called DreamBook which adds a slight bit of extra features for me (and once again seems really like a cool thing to have a DreamBook for theDreamworld). SO the new Guestbook will be up in a while. I also can finally get a CGI script for a counter and get it to work. The free services I have tried to use so far have all failed to work at all, so I'm anxious to get DreamHost to do the work for me. On top of all of that, I will finally be joining a few webrings and getting the site promoted (using Metatags, posting on various bulletin boards, subscribing to a few search engines, as well as the traffic brought from the webrings). I've been holding off on promoting the site until I had some stories to read, and while I don't have everything I would have liked, I do have a teaser chapter for Hope, Need, & Fear that just needs a bit more polishing, and I have a few new short stories and poems that I've been workshopping in my classes, all of which I think will be well received. Lastly but not leastly, I'm going to make sure that every page is updated and expanded (more Links, more Bio info, and more use of the Board).

Am I geeky to be so excited about this? Well, yes, I guess so. But I'm excited nonetheless. The site I'll launch on October 13th will be the site I had wanted to launch from the very beginning with all of the features and content that I had originally planned to include. Sure, it has taken nine months, but I think it will be worth the wait. I hope once it's up and running completely that you'll feel the same way.

Posted Written at 11:11 PM

September 27, 2001

It's fucking cold again.

The wonderful Collingwood Arts Center, the place I live, has yet to fire up the furnaces, and the 40 degree evenings and 50 degree days aren't doing much for keeping the building comfortable. The fact that the building leaks like a sieve doesn't help either. Unfortunately, the Board of Directors is notorious for waiting until the last possible moment before turning on the heat (this usually means the last second before the pipes all freeze and the tenants die of frostbite). That's not to say that the temperature is well-regulated once they turn it on. It's always either too hot or too cold, but almost never just right. But right now I'd settle for not-quite-right if it meant there was at least a bit of heat coming through.

In general, I am a very warm person, staying comfortable during most of the winter and actually being too warm during the summer. Fall has always been my favorite season, not simply for the colorful leaves and earthy smells, but because the temperatures are just right. Sadly, fall doesn't seem to last very long in Toledo. Things just practically jump from the dog days of Summer to the beginnings of Winter. So for me to say I'm cold is actually something.

The cold is actually quite annoying while I'm trying to read or work on papers for school because it makes it difficult to be comfortable and concentrate, even under a blanket and with sweats on. So working on my critical paper today was actually even worse than it should have been. I got it done (although I need to get up early tomorrow to run to school and do a little more revising), so I guess I can't complain too much. I just feel like I could have done better.

So my hope is that the Board of Directors will turn on the heat soon. I fear that they'll wait another two to four weeks to save money, and that would just suck. But I shouldn't let it bother me because it's really just out of my control. Actually, I should dig out my space heater and fire it up to warm me. That would make me comfy.
<hugs self for warmth>

Posted Written at 11:25 PM

September 26, 2001

Dustin is so beautiful and perfect. I could just sit and stare at him all day. That, of course, is something I should not be doing, but I am having a hard time not doing that. He's just so darned attractive. And that smile ... mmmph! It just makes me all warm inside.

He must have dyed his hair green this weekend for some reason, because there was still traces of it left over (and a faint green hue throughout). It disappointed me a little bit since he has such a perfect natural auburn hue to his hair, but I surprised myself by thinking that he still looked beautiful even under the circumstances (colored hair usually bothers me a bit). He's such a cutie!

He actually spoke to me today. I try to sit near him in my poetry class, and occasionally I'll make an amusing comment during class (hey, it does happen occasionally), and he'll laugh along or make a momentary comment along with it. Today, though, he actually spoke directly to me after my little amusing remark. Nothing long or significant, but he actually spoke directly to me and looked me right in the eyes, head on. I swear I almost started shaking, it was so perfect to see him looking right at me and smiling and talking.

I don't know what to make of him, though. I feel quite certain that he must have caught me at least a few times sneaking looks at him during classes. Heck, I've seen him look a few different times and just barely turned away from staring directly into his gaze. Maybe he just thinks I'm looking around when he sees me looking at him then looking away, but it seems like he must realize that I'm staring at him. I mean, I do it way too much not to be sort of obvious (not that I'm trying to be obvious or anything). Anyhow, he doesn't seem nonplused or angry or afraid of my staring, but he doesn't smile at me either. Of course I don't smile back either - I'm too nervous and try to look away so he won't catch me staring! So I don't know if he understands that I'm staring at him, but if he does, he isn't upset about it (or so it would seem).

I wish I had the balls to ask him to join me for a cup of coffee or something so that I could spend some time with him and really get to know him more. He's just so wonderfully interesting and intriguing! Well, we'll see what happens, but my track record in such things pretty much sucks. But maybe I'll lose my mind one day and talk to him.

Who knows, anything's possible ...

Posted Written at 10:51 PM

September 25, 2001

1 PM. I got out of bed at 1 PM. I had thought last night that maybe I'd be better today, but I didn't feel that way this morning. I did actually get up earlier than yesterday, and I did get some schoolwork done, and I did take care of a couple of simple errands, but I still am having a rough go at getting myself motivated to do anything at all.

Do you know what I need? I need to be needed. Really needed. Somebody that would depend on my help, guidance, compassion, love, or any combination of those things. I need that back, too, but being able to provide that is more important - it's how I feel needed, useful, important. It gives me self-confidence and hope. That's what I'm really missing. But what chance do I have of getting that from someone either?

How can it be so hard to find someone that I can give love to? Wouldn't you think everyone would want love? I feel like a pariah, avoided by everyone even if I have something they need.

This sucks. Everything sucks. Damnit.

Posted Written at 10:36 PM

September 24, 2001

Somebody slap my wrist, I've been a bad boy.

Guess who woke up before his alarm, well before 7 AM, and couldn't get himself together enough to leave his bed until 2:45 PM? Guess who missed all of their classes today because they didn't give a fuck and felt personally worthless? Guess who got almost nothing done today? Guess who is a worthless piece of humanity? Well, that would be me on all counts.

So, you may wonder, did I sleep all day after a full night's sleep? No. I never do when I get like this. I just lay there and mope and think and hate myself and daydream and feel empty. Pretty worthless use of time, honestly, and I have a lot of stuff for school that should have been done during that time (particularly going to class), but I just feel so hopeless that I just couldn't do it. I really do just want to give up. If it weren't for the logical side of my brain, I would probably just completely give in and give up. I still want to. I just know that nothing will be solved and I'll actually have a lot of shit get even worse than it is now that I'll have to deal with. It would be one thing if I thought I could just lie in bed and eventually just wither and die, but I know I'd just keep going and end up without food, money, income, or eventually even a place to stay. Then I'd have to give up any chance of finishing school and go back to work full-time or become a homeless person. That's how it would work. It would be too easy for me to die, so the powers-that-be in the universe would never allow that to happen - I have to be kept alive as long as possible so that I can continue to be the playtoy of the gods. Personally, I think the gods must be both really sadistic and way too bored if they find my suffering amusing, but it seems like this is the only way to view things.

So with all that said, let me ask you - why the hell do you even read my Journal entries? Aren't you sick of my whining yet? Aren't you fed up with never seeing anything worth reading? Well, I apologize for this Journal being pretty much crap, but then again I honestly don't know why anyone would care to read this. Hell, I don't want to read about this stuff myself, it's just that it it's all that's on my mind. I wish it wasn't. I wish I had even just one thing to be happy about. But I don't. And that doesn't seem likely to change.

Life sucks. At least for me.

Posted Written at 10:19 PM

September 23, 2001

I need hope. Or what I really actually need is someone to hold me and comfort me and need me. But since that's pretty unlikely at this point I'd settle for the hope that I might someday find someone like that. I don't have any, though.

I'm about to shut down right now. I can't concentrate, I want to cry all of the time, I'm not at all hungry but I want to eat constantly (I know that sounds ridiculous, but I only want to eat because it's comforting - like something to do to focus my mind on), and I don't want to go anywhere - not to see anyone, not to go to classes, not to even move from my room (for that matter, just staying in bed and not going anywhere seems pretty tough to argue against). The logical part of my mind knows that this is wrong and that it's the depression taking over, and my logical mind is the only reason I even got out of bed today, but I'm losing this battle. I just can't do this alone. I can't.

You think I'm weak? Well maybe I am. You think I'm a whiner? I guess so. You think I'm a loser? Haven't you been been listening to me when I talk about my life? Of course I'm a loser! It's not that I work at it. Quite the opposite; no matter how hard I try I just end up losing - that's just the way the universe works. And you know what? It doesn't really matter what you think. I can't do this anymore. I can't do it alone.

Why won't anyone help me?

I'm nearly 35, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. In fact, less than nothing - I have a criminal record, I'm gay and alone, I have a little girl I'll never see somewhere in the world, I get used and abused by my family and "friends" and get abandoned by them when I need someone, and I'm spiraling down into hell. And there's no reason anymore for me to believe that there's any hope that any of this will ever change or get any better.

Why am I suck a fucking coward? I wouldn't have to go through this if I just had the balls to off myself. But nooo, I can't bring myself to do it, even though I can't think of any reason to live but I can think of endless reasons to die. Well, why should that surprise me either? It's exactly what you'd expect from a loser.

Posted Written at 10:38 PM

September 22, 2001

It's time to voice my frustration and fury at recent bullshit opinions against gays. I usually just politely choose to disagree with homophobes and bigots, feeling that everyone is entitled to their own opinion as long as it doesn't affect others in a negative way (this means that people preaching or practicing hate are on my shit list, but people that are just uncomfortable with homosexuals and just want to keep out of their way ... well ... they need to be better educated and join the 21st century, but it's their life, you know?). But lately it just seems like everybody wants to just fucking use and abuse gay people, and it pisses me off.

Three big things have occurred lately. 1) Even in the wake of massive national blood shortages and the need for blood for the terrorist sites in New York and D.C., the Red Cross continues to refuse to accept any blood from anyone who is gay. Period. 2) The U.S. military, that homophobic institution that came up with "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and still discharges thousands of patriotic young men per year as the result of bigoted witchhunts, has decided recently that nobody will be discharged from any branch of the service during the immediate war against terrorism. After things settle down, they will resume discharges (just like they did after the discharge freeze during the gulf war - thousands were discharged immediately after the conflict for being gay). 3) Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle Dumber, the bible-thumping, bigoted king-assholes of America, Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, discussed on national tv their conviction that the destruction of the recent terrorist attacks was due to the "moral degradation" caused by gays, women's-rights, and the ALCU. To all three broad groups (the Red Cross, the entire military, and the Christian Coalition), let me offer a hearty "fuck you repeatedly 'til you bleed and die and burn eternally in hell, you fucking bigoted assholes."

Sure, you don't want our blood and you don't want any of us to benefit from military service, but once there's a chance of a war you want us as cannon-fodder and once there's a crisis with an unknown perpetrator you have to make us a scapegoat. Isn't it ironic that one of the passengers on the flight that went down in Pennsylvania, the flight that was expected to be headed for the White House and that was believed to have been downed when the passengers overcame the terrorists - isn't it ironic that one of those passengers that said he was going to stop them was a gay man? Do you straight, breeder, hate-filled, fuckers appreciate his sacrifice? Fuck no! Do you want all of the help gay men and women would like to provide all the time, whether it's in blood or military service? Fuck no! Do you want to do whatever you can to get us killed? Well, it sure fucking seems like it!

I am sick and tired of having to live in fear. I'm sick and tired of wondering if being gay will get me beaten up, fired, or arrested. I'm sick and tired of seeing good people die. I'm sick and tired of hearing bullshit about gay people making bad parents. I'm sick and tired of "friends" telling me they're okay and supportive of me being gay while they make nasty comments about other gays, badmouth me behind my back for being gay, and assume any young guy I'm with is my prey. I'm sick and tired of all of it. Fuck you all, bigots and homophobes of the world! Fuck you!

Posted Written at 10:56 PM

September 21, 2001

My childhood and my imagination were robbed from me.

I realized today that because I was so tormented and frightened up until I first went to college that I was robbed of my imagination. In the past, I have realized that I missed out on a lot of the activities most people cherish as memories of childhood: no memories of tossing a ball with a friend or a dad, no high praise from my parents for a good job at some extracurricular activity (or task at home, or hobby, or schoolwork, or act of charity, or ... well, you get the picture), no "great vacation," no shared games with a sibling, no childhood friend that was inseparable and as much a fixture in your house as a family member, no special images of a bedroom or bed that meant anything positive. No, it wasn't that every minute was hell, because there were certain moments, certain small things that made me smile, but they were so few ... and I have always felt robbed of missing all of those wonderful memories that every other person in the country seems to have. I wasn't just robbed of a happy, normal childhood, but I've been robbed of memories, experiences, and chances that would have made me (I feel certain) a happier, better adjusted adult.

Today I realized that I not only lost all of that but also my imagination. As a young boy, I had few inhibitions, walking up to complete strangers of any age and asking their name and what they were doing - I really wanted to get to know everybody and everything ... and the wanting hasn't changed, it's just that I'm terrified to approach people now and have been since I was 8 or 9. I was also very imaginative, taking an old egg carton and making it into a camera, then "taking pictures" of people - I would point the "camera" at someone, make a "click" sound, then run to my room to "develop" the photo (I would draw a picture of the person and the scene), then run back and give them my artistic gift. I also made my own little museum with Indian Heads, fossils, rocks, shells, pictures, and anything else I thought had a story to tell. I imagined putting on my own carnival in our empty lot next door, I dreamed of making a tree fort with friends in the neighborhood (not that there were any kids in the neighborhood, let alone the fact that a tree fort made by me would have been cause for incredible torture from my father), I fantasized about becoming a fireman or a spy, and I wished for my parents to for some reason change and be caring and hold me and read to me and spend time with me without berating me or yelling or hitting (or worse). But that was when I was a very little boy.

It didn't stop overnight, but it faded gradually. By the time I was nine, I wouldn't talk to anyone unless they approached me first and even then I would barely talk until enough time had passed for me to trust them. When my parents, particularly my father, would scream at me or belittle me or beat me I would say nothing, partly from a sort of paralyzing fear but partly because I simply felt it could only make things worse. My dreams of grand things, if they weren't derided and mocked by my parents first, were simply dismissed as impossible because I was trapped in my childhood prison. By the time I was eleven I had stopped dreaming - or at least I stopped remembering my dreams anyhow. They were too upsetting and disturbing to wake up with every morning (and often during the nights as well), and my mind simply blocked them out rather than face them. Outside of rare, powerful nightmares that wake me up sharply in the middle of the night, I haven't remembered any dreams since then, nearly 24 years ago. I have curbed my imagination, partly because it develops such dark fears and paranoias that it leaves me looking for things that aren't there, but also because my cynicism would look at whatever was happening in my life and play it forward in time, but invariably with a pessimistic eventuality (I always told myself and others that this was realism on my part, but even if things did turn out that way it was pessimism and did more harm than good). So because I couldn't even use my imagination positively in my daily life, I put conscious restraints upon it so that I could cope with the world around me.

Today, during two different exercises in classes, it struck me that I am incredibly disadvantaged compared to my fellow students, partly because I have so few non-traumatic childhood memories to draw upon, but largely because I simply can't use my imagination like anyone else. Everything is stuck in logic, realism, reluctance to open up my mind creatively, and a tendency to be unable to block out the bad memories and imagination in favor of looking for other things.

I wonder how I can even expect to be even just a decent writer, let alone a good writer, if I am this stilted on even the simplest of assignments. It bothers me. I feel like I don't have any of the tools I need to be able cope with life, let alone the tools to express myself to people so that they can understand what needs to be said.

This is where a lot of these feelings of inadequacy are coming from. These people in my classes are so creative, so impassioned, and so devoted. I don't know if I can ever have that. And how can I ever be more than a hack compared to these people if I can't have even one of those characteristics? I don't know. I just don't know.

And not knowing things is the worst feeling in the world.

Posted Written at 10:57 PM

September 20, 2001

So consider my latest crush. His name is Dustin, and he's perfect. Well, maybe he's not, but I have no indication of that yet. He's a little bit shorter than me, maybe 5'7" or 5'8". He's not heavy, but he's not trim, and he's just fairly normal, not buff or tight. I'd guess he's 145 pounds or something like that (I'm not very good at guessing weights). He has the most beautiful straight, shiny auburn hair, parted just off the center and falling to either side of his face. He had it cut just recently so that it's fairly short around the top and clipped on the sides (it used to be full around his head and hung straight over his ears). He has small features (perfect ears, slender nose, beautiful perfect lips, small chin), but he seems old enough to be pretty filled out (you know, younger guys have those sloping shoulders that still have a lot of room to fill out and some guys seem to still have big hands and feet that suggest they'll grow more - everything's just perfectly proportioned with Dustin).

I don't know how old he is or even what class standing he has (he's in two of my classes at the university). I'm guessing he's either a freshman or a sophomore. I'm leaning towards sophomore since he already seems to know a few people on campus, including a grad student that teaches one of our classes, and he seems to be past at least some of the basic classes like English 111. For all I know, he may even be a Junior, but I doubt it. So that makes him anywhere from 18 to 20. But age doesn't really matter.

He dresses pretty casually, wearing canvas tennis shoes, khaki pants, and either a t-shirt or a short-sleeved plaid shirt over a white t-shirt. He wears small, black European glasses, but you can see these deep soulful eyes behind them that seem free of pain and despair. He stays quiet most of the time, sitting near the back of the room and only talking when directly called upon. He seems pretty shy (and that's a big turn-on), but he also opens right up when he sees someone he knows and they start talking to him.

Did I mention that he has the most incredible smile I've ever seen? He just makes me feel all warm inside when he smiles - he just seems so genuinely happy and content. He has these perfect white teeth, straight and even, that just show through his grin. And the way his whole face just seems to light up when he smiles ... mmm ...

He seems pretty smart, seems to have a good sense of humor, seems to be pretty modest, keeps to himself for the most part, and is just so attractive.

And I know he sees me watching him. I try not to stare, and I definitely try to look away when I see him start to look in my direction, but I just know he has caught me. He hasn't given me a nasty look at those times, so that's a plus. But then again he hasn't smiled at those times either. Maybe he's just too polite to say anything mean or look at me in anger. I don't know. He probably doesn't want to have anything to do with me.

<sigh> He's just so perfect. I wish I could just get to know him.

Posted Written at 10:20 PM

September 19, 2001

My obsessive attraction to guys that I wrote about in yesterday's Journal entry is only part of the complication. Sure, it's normal for a gay guy to be attracted to other guys, particularly good-looking, trim college guys. They are probably too young for me, and other guys I see are often even younger, so it's almost sort of wrong for me to be lusting after them. That's part of the problem, though. It's not as though I'm lusting after them because I don't have any sexual thoughts or desires - I just want to be with them, get to know them, and maybe hold them (and certainly admire them). Sex isn't the issue, it's companionship and contact. That doesn't make me feel any better about looking at young guys though.

Complicating all of this is that I have what would be called the "ticking of my biological clock" if I were a woman. I really want ... even need ... to be around boys, maybe as young as five but with no upper limit. They're little kids, and it's not quite like when I look at the college studs, but it's not all that different either. Again, it's not really sexual - it's more this need to connect and feel needed ... wanted ... I can get that from a kid, I know I can. I can teach them things and learn from them and make friends regardless of how old they are. I don't want to be a dad (although I wouldn't turn down the opportunity if a miracle happened), but I do want to be a big brother. The thing that's weird is that I really only relate to boys. Part of me figures that's just because I understand little boys better than little girls, but part of me worries about what else it might mean. I like to think I know myself pretty well and that there's no unconscious ulterior motive in this desire to have a little boy to treat like a younger brother, but I'm afraid just the same. What if I turn out to be just like my father? Can I take the chance that I'll do something mentally and emotionally scarring with a young boy like my father did to me? I can't imagine myself being capable of it, but I'm just so afraid that I'll be like him.

I feel empty, though. I so much want some companionship - someone to talk to, someone to play games with or watch tv with, someone to teach and learn from, someone to give advice or comfort when they need it, and someone who would be there for me when I need to have someone to lean upon. This isolation is killing me. I need someone, and there's just no chance that I'm going to ever find anyone is there? I can't even like myself, so why should I expect that anyone else might?

I had a rough time today, just sinking deeper and deeper into depression. I don't know how I can manage any longer. I just don't feel capable of standing the pain any longer with someone to help me. School is losing importance to me again and my schoolwork just seems like it shows me to be incompetent and inadequate compared to my classmates. I just don't know what the point is in doing this stuff, and I can feel the logical part of my brain fighting rebelling against this and keeping my butt in school, but the emotional (and depressed) part of me just feels like giving up and waiting to die.

Even the logical part of me wishes it was that simple. Unfortunately, it's not. The shit will just keep going on and on, and it can only get worse if I drop out again. That's a pretty poor excuse for staying in college, but it's all I've got. And it's indicative of my whole life situation. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. The only way to win is probably to die and just not have to deal with any of it. It would be great if I had the balls to do it. Sad irony for me. So I'm just stuck. Just great.

Posted Written at 11:14 PM

September 18, 2001

They're too young. They're all too young. These guys on campus, some as young as 17, some maybe as old as 24, but most of them about 19 - I'm almost twice their age. I'm old enough to be the father of most of them. And at least their adults. What about the beautiful boys I see on tv shows and ads that are probably younger than 18? Not that I'll even see kids from tv in real life, but that's not the point. The point is that I'm obsessed, and that's not a good thing. I want what I can't have, and it's killing me. Even worse, it'll just get more and more impossible as more time passes. I'll just keep getting older and older, less and less appealing, and more and more depressed and possibly even bitter. It's a sucky future that I see.

Even worse than the feeling that I don't stand a chance with these guys is the fact that I'm obsessing over younger guys. I guess guys in their twenties isn't too outrageous, but I know that most of these guys are younger than that, and I feel like some sort of pedophile. Is it just that these guys are pretty much the only age group I see, or am I just oblivious to anyone that's older than this? I think for the most part it's that there are just a whole lot of guys in this age range that I am seeing, but it doesn't make me feel any better. The really sad thing is that I don't think I'd have the strength to turn away someone who was too young if they approached me. Mind you, that thought in itself is amusing considering none of these boys would be remotely interested in even asking me for the time, let alone anything more, but it still bothers me that if some kid just entering puberty were to glom onto me for some reason, I wouldn't be able to say no to anything. On the plus side, I don't think I'd make any moves even if someone that young were clearly interested in me, and I know that I would never even have the nerve to speak to a boy like that let alone force myself on him.

But none of that makes me feel a whole lot better. I even know that all I pretty much want is to be able to stare at them, hold them, and maybe rub their shoulders or run my fingers through their hair, but where would it stop? I know that I don't have any kind of sexual fantasies involving boys that young (or younger than 18, for that matter), but how would I react if I were in close physical contact - like holding a boy - and he started messing around? I don't know what effect it would have on me physically, but I don't think I could mentally get myself to make him stop if something like that developed. That's the sort of uncertainty that really worries me.

Am I a horrible person? Am I just desperate for companionship and any physical contact or am I unconsciously trying to set myself up for something that should never be allowed to happen? I don't know, and I can't stand it.

Why isn't anything ever simple?

Posted Written at 10:46 PM

September 17, 2001

I feel very inadequate today. I gave a presentation about Walt Whitman in one class, had one of my poems critiqued in another class, and had a short story critiqued in yet another class. Getting stares and comments about my writings (I also got back a short story from a teacher, complete with all sorts of comments) was bad enough, but listening to the poems and creative ideas of classmates in other classes just left me feeling like I would never be as creative or practiced as these people who are ten and more years younger than me. Add to that my feelings that I'm undesirable and isolated, and I've just felt like shit most of the day.

I was also tired today. Partly the emotional drain from everything, but also a short night's sleep and an irregular eating schedule - I just felt tired and moody all day. Not a fun way to start the week.

Over the next few days, I have to write another short story, a new poem, start a short-short story, start a critical paper, and start a critical essay, as well as some more reading. With not only the depression but also this feeling that my work is crap (which is pretty much how I feel at the moment), I'm having a hard time even thinking about what I could write about, let alone even trying to sit down and actually write something that I won't just trash because I think it sucks. I don't know if I'll feel like this or not tomorrow, but I doubt it's going to be a very easy week for writing and such. When did this all get so complicated?

Posted Written at 10:15 PM

September 16, 2001

My mother visited today. <exasperated sigh> I don't know how I do it anymore, but I managed not to tell her off, storm off in a huff, or break down in tears throughout the whole lunch and subsequent visit (which amounts to coming inside the Arts Center to look around, make some comment about how terrible it is that I have to live like I do, going to the restroom (and making comments about how terrible it is to have to live with a communal bathroom) and then leaving after having spent generally only a half hour at most besides the time at a restaurant) [I'm not sure if I should complain about the lengths of her visits, either, considering how upset she invariably leaves me. It's just that she makes these 2+ hour visits once every three or so months (which is a big increase over the once every 2 years that it was until up 'til a couple years ago), yet she visits my sister on the east coast (I live only about an hour's drive from my mother) once or twice a month for one to four weeks at a time, depending on what is happening in my sister's life. It's unlikely I could stand having her around that often, but it's indicative of the favoritism she's always given to my sister and consequently goes hand-in-hand with the fact that she knows nothing about me (and seems to have no desire to know anything about me) yet knows every little detail about my sister including what brands of beans she likes or some such crap.]

She has certain expected actions whenever she visits. By that I mean that I know her so well that I know what thing she'll say or do whenever I see her because she never changes regardless of how often she is reminded that she's already been told whatever she seems to have forgotten or she says or does things that I have insisted she stop doing because they upset me. But why should she remember things about me or try to ease my anxieties when she doesn't give a damn about me? Maybe I just expect too much, but I have certain expectations of how a mother should interact with her children, and my mother doesn't get remotely close to those expectations with me (although she gets much closer with my sister, but that's another story). For instance, we went to lunch at Olive Garden. "Oh, is that veal?" she asks as she points to the Chicken Parmigiana on my plate. "No, mother; it's chicken. I don't eat red meat." Heck, it's only been a little less than nine years that I've stopped eating mammals, and I have to tell her every fucking time I see her that I don't eat red meat. Or I don't drink (13 years). Or I don't like squash (30 years). Or whatever. Mind you, my mother knows the likes and dislikes, foodwise, of every other member in the family perfectly, even with some of the out-of-state relatives, but she never pays attention to mine. In fact, she likes to mock me or try to force things on me - "Oh look at that cute little pig. Bacon!" or "Oh come on, it's just one beer. Just take it." (Does this sound like the words of an alcoholic? Ding-ding-ding! You win the big prize! At least she fits in with the rest of the family).

Of course there are the expected, "When are you going back to work" (I'm a fool for wasting my time at school, obviously), "Are you seeing any nice girls" (yes, she is really clueless, isn't she), "Have you heard from your sister" (to which the answer is always 'No.' My sister won't even call if I leave five messages claiming my arm has been cut off and I need help), or the most obnoxious comment: "Your father wants to see you. Will you come home?" (I haven't spoken to my father, the child-abuser (to me and others) for three years after a lifetime of trying to appear okay with him because my mother insisted. She doesn't know the extent of my abuse from him, but she knows enough to understand, yet she insists upon making me the villain in this and trying to persecute me for no longer visiting a place I have never considered 'home').

Today she added comments she every-so-often intersperses to piss me off, such as making a lengthy commentary about how great Cracker Barrel is and how she went there recently (I despise Cracker Barrel for their very public policy of firing gays from their company for no other reason than that they are gay. I have made my dislike for them clear, and my mother enjoys getting me pissed off by mentioning them as often as possible).

To add to this and other comments, she decided to speak at length about her hatred of Ossama Bin Laden and other 'Arabs' that she believes should all be nuked into oblivion. My comments that "violence only begets violence," "martyring Bin Laden won't solve the problem," and "you can't eliminate terrorism unless you lift up the people that feel so bad as to turn to that profession as an option" (Bin Laden was trained by the CIA to fight the Soviets in Afghanistan, then he was left to fend for himself against the Soviets when the US pulled out. He's pissed at being used and abused. The same is true for Iranians or Iraqis, both of whom brought about many of their own problems but who rightly hate the US for not only interfering in their lands when they had no right to be involved but for also bombing the fuck out of them and their families when they had done nothing to the US to merit such abuse) - all of these comments were shot down as wrong. I'm not allowed to have an opinion. She believed they should all be killed in painful deaths, even if it took out innocents around them, and her unending propensity for hate simply slapped me in the face and disgusted me (as usual). I found it ironic that she had driven to Toledo from Sandusky straight from leaving church. I'll bet the sermon wasn't "Kill your neighbor," "Blow off their other cheek," or "Jesus would want you to nuke those bastards back to the stone age." Of course I could be wrong, but I find it unlikely that simple Methodist Pastor Nash said anything except "love thy neighbor" and "pray to God for everyone involved." I'm not much on religion, but I know that particular Pastor, and my mother obviously wasted his time this morning.

Anyhow, if you haven't yet guessed, she managed to push all of my buttons yet again. I haven't even told you all of the crap that she said today, but even with what I've mentioned above you might be amazed to know that she was only here a bit over two hours. Isn't it amazing that she can do so much damage in so little time? Well, she's had years of practice. Bitch ...

Posted Written at 10:07 PM

September 15, 2001

I'm going insane.

I can't ... control my thoughts. I wish I was blind. If I couldn't see what was around me, I wouldn't be filled with longing and feelings of being alone. How can I stand this any more? I should just stay completely isolated in my rooms, never watching tv and only buying groceries at like three in the morning. It hurts too much to be this empty. Just kill me. Kill me now.

Am I being punished? What have I done? It just goes on and on - nothing allowed to go right, nobody ever caring or staying, every person I trust taking advantage of me, always alone ... always. What did I do? What?

Posted Written at 1:17 AM

September 14, 2001

I can't watch tv anymore.

That's probably a good thing since I have so much reading to do for next week's classes, but it's just aggravating also. I can't stand the constant repetitive coverage of the terrorist attacks. Maybe I'm an insensitive ass, but I've seen enough, thank you very much, and seeing it over and over again is not only repugnant but now also frustratingly boring.

As I say, it's probably good to have this crap on tv so that I'll read, but I need momentary breaks from reading or I just get stiff and sleepy. Not good when you have a few novels and a bunch of short stories still lined up and waiting. A nice tv show while I eat lunch, or during a little snack, or even just a half hour of the Simpsons to let my mind vegetate before I go back to reading. It's refreshing. But I haven't had that opportunity the last couple of days because of the ceaseless prattle of every tv station - even PBS (in all fairness, I did chanell-surf past PBS at one point and it was "Barney" rather than a news show, but that was not remotely an improvement from other mindless crap ). Sadly, even with so much forced reading time, I have only still brushed the surface of the stack of books.

The few "little" tasks I needed to knock out this morning took, individually and en masse, far too long - much longer than expected. But now I have my phone plan cut down to the cheapest possible rate and the big bundle of useless phone services that I've had for the last month is gone (taking it for a month saved me installation charges on the new phone). You would think that would be quick and easy, right? You would be wrong if you thought that. Maybe for normal people, but not for me with my bad luck. Everything was like that. In fact, I didn't get to where I was totally focused on reading until almost 3 PM. Prior to that, I was reading snatches of a novel here and there around the phone calls and tasks I was taking care of.

Anyhow, that was today. Yesterday also saw a lot of reading around various tasks which took much longer than they need to because of my poor luck. How about getting an oil change as an example? I've been trying to get an oil change since the 1st. I have been using the same place (a Grease Monkey franchise store) for a few years, and I always use Castrol oil (it's good for cars to always use the same oil throughout their life). I stopped in on the first for my 3-month oil change and they had no Castrol but expected a shipment soon. I went back two other times with the same response. Yesterday, after the "late shipment" excuse, I was told that they'd give me $5 off if I bought my own Castrol oil and brought it back. How nice. Like that would save me money. Or make up for my waste of time and money. Anyhow, I decided to take a chance and drive way out of my way to the Grease Monkey location on the far side of town (Grease Monkey os the only oil change place that carries Castrol (or at least is supposed to carry Castrol)). I got there and was treated really well and was finished faster than I had ever been at the other location. And the store was cleaner. And it was cheaper than what I usually pay, even though I usually use a coupon at the other location. I should look at this as lucky, right? I got my oil changed and found a better place, so that's good, right? Well, I can't help but be aggravated at the fucked up shit I had to deal with for two weeks at the first location, and the good service of the new location is mitigated by the fact that it's fifteen minutes out of my way. But at least I know better than to waste my time at the place I used to go anymore. Fifteen minutes away or not, I'll go to the other location from now on.

But that's just a happy little example of how a simple twenty minute excursion can turn into an afternoon's endeavor just because my luck is shit. Gee, do I sound bitter? Hmmm?

<sigh>

Posted Written at 11:19 PM

September 13, 2001

Welcome to the world of terror. Be afraid; be very afraid.

Or not.

Let me start by making it clear that I am deeply disturbed by the terrorist activities in New York and Washington as well as all of the collateral and subsequent activities and discoveries. I am not at all comfortable with the loss of life, the suffering, or even the physical destruction of things that will affect millions of people's lives. Indeed, I am extremely saddened by the fact that any terrorism happened at all, let alone things of this magnitude. Those things said, however, I am reaching my cynical tolerance level with the media, the government, and the public.

First, have some compassion. I am very pleased to see people giving blood, money, and personal effort in aiding victims and their families, but compassion would also in my mind include not exploiting people's suffering: not selling pieces of the World Trade Center on Ebay, not exploiting a sobbing spouse of a victim on tv, and not telling the public that "we'll get those folks" while not mentioning how to help people (as if finding the culprits is more important than helping the victims and their families).

Second, and much more important, have a bit of taste if you can't at least have some morality. Showing the live sites of the explosions while workers sift through for corpses is tasteless. Replaying the crashes, explosions, and collapses of the buildings over and over and over again is heartless and immoral. Have you no hearts? Is there a reason to keep showing this constantly 24-hours a day? The only reason to replay these images is sensationalism; making money from the pain of others. It is beyond reprehensible. Regardless of how tastefully Peter Jennings or Tom Brokaw might try to be, their credibility flies out the window when their networks keep showing images that are already eternally burned into our memories.

Third, and finally, stop trying to scare the fuck out of America. Yes, this was horrible. Yes, we have to change the way we operate our lives to make sure other acts of terrorism don't occur. But stop forcing people to panic. Unsubstantiated bomb threats or talk of other 'terrorist cells waiting to act' are at a minimum sensationalistic speculation and more to the point are outright attempts to scare people. Telling people you don't know how to stop this sort of thing is not necessary right now, even if it is the truth. Comparing this to Pearl Harbor, claiming it will lead to a worldwide depression, and suggesting that more deaths from major terrorist activities are just waiting for the airports to all reopen - all of these things have no justification and are worse than yellow journalism. These types of suggestions create a culture of fear where people even at the center of the country are fearful that they will be harmed by terrorism. For some lady on a farm outside of some no-name Utah town to be terrified that she is in danger is ridiculous. To even suggest to people on the East Coast that they are so much in danger that they should build underground bunkers (this is what I expect to see on the news next) is outlandish. It is possible to discuss new developments and discoveries over the course of a day without undue speculation or innuendo. If it isn't possible to do that, you have too much time on your hands and should give up the fucking 24-hour news broadcasting because you obviously don't have enough valid information to fill your news program.

I blame the media as the major culprits, but the government has done much of the same crap through interviews and also through not discrediting the outlandish speculation of the media. The public itself, for the most part a victim of the media and the government, is also to blame because the gossip network of poorly informed idiots seems to have a few million members. You can all just stop, thank you.

I don't expect everyone to forget this happened and get back to business as usual, but I think people need to tone this all down and think and act more responsibly. If things keep going the way they are, the terrorists win their biggest advantage because they create an America that is paralyzed with fear. It's an old quote but an appropriate one that people should take to heart - "We have nothing to fear but fear itself."

Posted Written at 12:49 AM

September 12, 2001

It just keeps going on. Two more collapsed buildings in the World Trade Center complex, news that the White House and Air Force One had been primary targets, beginning body counts showing, terrible stories of people talking on cell phones to loved ones as they were cut off in death. Hatred is brewing to an incredible degree, people want a culprit to crucify, and people seem to forget the necessity of rescue operations, support for victims and their families, and the importance of preparing to rebuild. Everyone seems to look only to vengeance and hate, not to charity and love. It is very disappointing.

I am not afraid, like many people claim to be. Maybe it's because I have so little value for my own life anymore, but I am upset at the pain and loss that has been suffered by others, not upset because I now fear for myself. I am just terribly saddened. I am not afraid. I am not angry. Just terribly sad. And I just can't understand how everyone seems to be ruled only by their anger, not logic, not compassion, not sadness.

Am I the only humane human in this picture? Does everybody want some animalistic bloodletting retaliation? I don't understand it. It's just all so wrong.

I wrote a poem about how this has all affected me. It's titled "911," and I'm going to take it to one of my classes on Friday. I'll try to have it up and on the site during the next update, maybe on Friday but probably not until Monday. I will be getting comments during workshops of Friday about three poems and a couple short stories, so I'll probably wait until Monday so I can try to get those revised and ready for a big update.

Until then, the Journal is all you get (sorry!). Try to be good to the people around you. Everyone needs someone right now. Be a good friend, neighbor, and countryman. You'll be glad you did.

Posted Written at 12:13 AM

September 11, 2001

9-11. "A date that will live in infamy ..." "... worst act of terrorism ever suffered in the world ..."

It happened today. Big-time terrorism. Two planes flew into each of the towers of the World Trade Center in New York, causing their eventual complete collapse, and a plane flew into the Pentagon. I've expected it; I honestly have, but that hasn't made it any easier.

I've watched the hate in the world, the growing terrorism, the growing hatred of the USA by many countries (sometimes justified), the poor practices in America to deter terrorism, the easy access of guns and explosives, the anger of people against the whole world, the hopelessness of people, and the stupidity of the media to make evil people and their acts into legends. It was all just a matter of time, and I knew it. I hoped and hoped that I was wrong. I never wanted to see anything like this. I know that theDreamworld is just too perfect a fantasy to ever really exist on earth, but I hope so much that we could just get a little bit closer to that dream. Just a little bit.

But instead we have fallen backward again. And now people all over America will want vengeance, blood, war, death. Thousands of people dead. Thousands of more seriously wounded. Millions emotionally scarred. But it's not enough for these people. They will demand more killing, maiming, and suffering. They'll want to watch, even. And then the people that suffer under the wrath of the American people will strike back again themselves, no longer trying just to make a statement by affecting a national landmark but trying to hurt more people. That will be done with biological weapons or planes flying into nuclear power plants or flying planes into elementary schools. It will all be about who can hurt the other side more, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. And it will never end. Each side will just want more blood. More pain.

I hate this world. I hate my life. I hate the people that think in terms of greed, power, selfishness, and bigotry. I hate all of these things because they are wrong and because I know how good things could be ... should be. I know that the world could never be a perfect place. But we know how to love; we know how to trust; we know how to show compassion; we know how to teach; we know how to care. We even know the benefits and satisfaction of doing all of these things. But we throw all of that aside and fall invariably back to our baser selves: brutal, selfish, ugly, cruel.

It is because of this just as much as because I am desperately lonely that I wish I were dead. I don't want to see the suffering anymore. It has already been far too much. Even before today it had been far too much. And now it will only grow worse.

Please do what you can to save us. I beg you. Stop the hate. Let it go. Love your neighbor. If not for them then for yourself. We have to change or we all have to die. This is not a way to live. This is not a way to be.

We are better than this.

Posted Written at 10:11 PM

September 10, 2001

I've been really bummed out again today. I feel empty ... not just the usual loneliness, but disappointment in just everything.

I've found myself feeling like I'm snubbed again by guys that look at me. Mind you, I don't know if they're catching me glancing at them and getting pissed off or what, but I have been finding guys glancing at me and holding their stare for a moment with an unreadable expression on their face. It just bothers me. It makes me feel ugly and dirty, like I'm unacceptable in any way to be near anybody else.

Maybe I'm going insane. That's what it feels like. I don't feel like I have any control any more, and I feel isolated and scared. Scared of what? I don't know exactly. Everything, I guess - failing, not being useful, not being appreciated, being rejected, being alone, having no future ... there's more, but I think you get the idea. I honestly feel like it's just a matter of time before I break down again, and it feels like there's nothing I can do to stop it. That in itself bothers me, because it means I'll invariably screw up school and my finances (and everything else) again. But it also bothers me because I know how much more it hurts when the depression gets so strong that it completely takes me over, and I don't know how I can bear it.

I really want someone to hold me. Am I just being a baby, or does this seem understandable?

But there is no one. And that just makes me feels worse. It seems like it's inevitable, but I still fear the possibility of always being alone and never seeing that change. I don't know how to keep this from bothering me. I just don't think it's possible.

I just want someone to hold.

Posted Written at 11:23 PM

September 9, 2001

Once again I spent a lot of the day reading and writing for classes. It takes a while to get started on the writing, regardless of whether it's poetry or prose, and I'm usually completely stuck until I get a mental image of what to write about. It's very satisfying when I finally write, however, because it feels really complete and fulfilling. So far, I seem to write things I really like but only pretty much at the last minute. That part of things is very disconcerting. But I do like what I wrote today. First I wrote a very short story that's basically a 'friends don't let friends drive drunk' responsibility thing. I hope it doesn't come off as preachy, but I was somewhat stuck by the demands and length limits of the assignment for class. But I like it anyhow. The next thing I wrote was a poem. I guess the drunk driving things was eating me inside, so I ended up writing a poem about Ken, a friend I miss very much who was killed by a drunk driver. I like how that came out, too. It makes me want to write more about Ken, but that's something I'll have to work on later.

Other than that and a bunch of reading, I spent a lot of the day watching tv like some vegetable, but the mindless relaxation really felt pretty good. I feel much better about going into the next school week because I feel rested and prepared. I definitely was not rested or prepared last week, and it made for a crazy week trying to keep up with everything. So much better to feel relaxed ...

Tomorrow, around classes and a couple small projects, I hope to have updates for the site uploaded onto the web. That's pretty much just going to be Journal entries this time, I think. The poems and stories will wait until they've gone through workshops (who knows, they will hopefully come out with good suggested improvements, and then I can post revised, polished pieces). The only other update will be the domain name issue, but I think I'm going to have to work with this a little before I'll know for sure what to do - as soon as I get a handle on how to update everything to branch off of the new domain name, that'll be great, but I'm not rushing into anything until I know it will work completely. So that may be a little while since I'm not able to do this on my own new computer. And that brings us to the final issue.

I still haven't placed an order for my new Powerbook G4 yet. I know with great certainty that Apple is going to release an update with a variety of possible things I want (any individual one or more of which would be worth the wait, in my opinion). There has been speculation (as I've mentioned in earlier Journal entries) that the new update would be announced in July, then backed off 'til September, but new speculation suggests that it won't happen this month either. New estimates say October or even early November - almost certainly not later than that, but still a long time to keep sane without ordering my shiny new toy. I'm losing my patience and getting really frustrated, but I've waited for a month and a half now, so what's another month and a half, right? Ugh. <sigh> I just want to have them announce the update and have a chance to order it. At the rate we're going, even if I get the new laptop before Christmas I won't be able to use it because I won't have time to install and set it up before then - school will just be too demanding by that time. Darn it. But at least it'll be a great gift for the holidays, : )

Posted Written at 10:15 PM

September 8, 2001

Today, waking just before 8 AM, I spent most of the morning watching the new lineup of Saturday cartoons. To me, this is just about the most relaxing part of the whole week, just taking the time to really watch the tv and not just have it play in the background. Cartoons though? You bet. I love the chance to just let my mind escape with the simple pleasure of cartoons. It's the closest I can get to being a kid, and I won't lose the opportunity if I can help it. The new FOX lineup continued today (their two big shows, Digimon-Season 3 and Metabots, premiered last week), and I like it. The teen reality challenge, Moolah Beach, will be extremely stupid, but it has some great young male eye candy, so who am I to complain. I am particularly liking the new season of Digimon. It has been put together very well; a lot of change and improvement from the old show (even though I had enjoyed it before).

I actually would have gotten a lot out of being lazy all day and watching tv, listening to music, and screwing around, but I had a lot of reading to get through for class, some textbook chapters and articles on theory as well as some poems and stories that I needed to make comments on for next week's workshops. I still have to write a poem, a story, and the materials for the class presentation I need to make on Friday, but those can be knocked out tomorrow (as long as I don't face too much writer's block). The downside is that I need to read all of Tess of the D'Ubervilles by the end of the week, and I was hoping to get a good start tomorrow. I'm not sure that I'll get very much read tomorrow, so that means a lot more to read during the week : (

As a side note, I didn't mention yesterday, but I had my six month follow-up to my laser eye surgery, and my eyesight is 25/25, the best I've ever had in my life. My next follow-up is another six months from now, and I'm told that it is very common for there still to be improvement, so I might actually level out at fully 20/20 by the time all is said and done. That would be too cool.

One final thing, a sad note - my newest snail, which I just got a couple of weeks ago, has died. Proserpina was hardly even here before she died, and I suspect that Clotho, my fish, was largely responsible. I kept catching Clotho biting at Proserpina when she was out of her shell, and I suspect that he just wouldn't leave her alone. Damn vicious fish! Does she think she's a piranha or something? Anyhow, that's kind of a bummer, but I'm not as upset about this as I have been about previous snails and fish that have gone to that big fishbowl in the sky.

Posted Written at 10:49 PM

September 7, 2001

It's like this ... I need a boyfriend.

Desire is just getting to be too much at this point for me to even just function normally anymore. I don't even mean sexually, although yesterday, for the first time I can ever remember, I fantasized about stroking and licking the ear, jaw-line, neck, arms, and nipples of the guy that was sitting in front of me during a class. I even pictured myself giving him a full-body massage, but I didn't picture anything with contact ... you know, like penis contact. Maybe I just didn't let myself go that far with the fantasy, I don't know - this fantasizing while I'm looking at a guy is new to me - but it still seems like the sex part of things wasn't first and foremost in my mind; it's the contact, the caresses, the connection to someone. I think that's why I keep looking so much at much younger guys, too. They seem less sexual in certain ways, just more like someone looking to be loved, held, and cuddled. That's what I really want and need.

Unfortunately, just wanting a non-sexual relationship ... hmmm, that's wrong. Let's try again - I'll take sex, don't get me wrong, but I don't have to have sex for the kind of relationship I want. Yes, that's a little more like the way I feel. I don't feel like I even stand a chance to find someone to hold, though, and that's just killing me every day. When I look around at all of the great-looking or intelligent-sounding guys around me on campus (or anywhere, for that matter), I just want to go talk to them, maybe give them a long hug, or find a couch to just snuggle up with them while we get to know each other. And it hurts not to even feel like that sort of innocent contact will ever happen.

Am I weird or something? Is it weird not to care about sex (much)? Is it weird to be so desperate for someone even just to talk with? I feel like I'm losing my mind as I get more and more needy for someone to hold. I just can't stand this anymore; I need somebody so bad I just feel like crying all of the time. I keep fighting back tears a lot during the day when all I felt the moment before was just that I really wanted a hug. I don't even know why this hugging and contact is so important. It's not like my family has ever been touchy-feely. I never got hugs when I cried or got hurt, never got to cuddle in bed with a family member (please note: the sexual abuse by my father does not qualify here), never got anything except the occasional, obligatory kiss goodnight. And to be honest, I haven't had that many relationships and certainly not much length to any of even the best relationships, so my physical contact has remained low. Maybe I've just gotten to the point where I've reached my limit for surviving without human touch. That doesn't seem any more absurd than just being incredibly desperate.

This is just so depressing. "Find me, find me, find me somebody to love." It doesn't ever seem like there's enough love in the world. Why is it so hard to share it when I'm willing?

Posted Written at 12:11 AM

September 6, 2001

Miracle of miracles. I stayed in bed this morning 'til almost 9:30, trying to think about what I could write for my short story for my Creative Writing Workshop. Nothing really feels right, and the few things I feel somewhat inspired about deal with gay topics. That's not exactly a problem, but the two assignments I've already turned in for that class have had gay aspects, and I don't want to feel like I'm stuck somehow. Ironically, the story I became comfortable writing has a gay aspect - a very strong gay aspect in fact - but the way I decided to break it down, the gay aspect of the story is invisible. Confused yet? Well, let me explain.

I ended up writing what is essentially the second chapter of Hope, Need, & Fear, the story I've been promising all year. The gay aspect is not important to this chapter, and it's almost invisible unless you're looking for the right hints. It didn't come out quite the way I'd originally planned, but it feels fairly solid. It's certainly good enough (and long enough) for this workshop class, and it's pretty close to where it needs to be for posting on the site. I'll still want to write the first chapter (and ideally the two prequel chapters I'd sort of planned) before saying Chapter 2 stands as is. In all reality, I'm sure there will be a few changes that flow out of the earlier chapters, but it shouldn't be too drastic. I'm actually thinking about posting what I've got as a teaser chapter until the real first chapters are complete. I think I'll wait until the workshop goes through the story first, though. That will maybe make it just that much better.

I have to tell you that writing that story/chapter today has improved my attitude quite a bit. I was really frustrated about my writers block for the last week, and I've been fairly upset for quite a while that I've made no progress on Hope, Need, & Fear. Today I overcame both of those things. I've also been concerned for some time that I might not really have what it takes to be a writer. Sure, I'm pleased with my style in the brief stuff that I produce, but I don't really have much to show for myself, certainly not in the way of stories. One chapter that needs a little work doesn't make me a genius or put me on the fast-track to fame, but it makes me a lot more comfortable with what I might be able to do. Now if I can just finish a really, full-length story, then I can feel like I've got a chance.

Finally, good but ironic news. First, I signed up for my own domain name yesterday, theDreamworld.org. Of course, it'll be a few days at least until I can actually get that together so that it works, since I have to do all of my work at the campus labs to upgrade and upload things, but I'm on my way. Second, even more ironically, is that my DSL setup equipment arrived today. I haven't had time to look it over; I don't know if I have everything I need yet; I don't know if the actual DSL streaming info is set up through my phone line yet; and I don't have the new computer yet to test any of it or enjoy it. But I have it. With luck I'll get the new computer soon and be able to have a tremendous jump in speed and no problems with getting bumped off and disconnected. That will be sweet. If only it weren't probably still another month away ...

Posted Written at 11:07 PM

September 5, 2001

Wow. I have been having a very hard time writing a short story for Friday for a class. I just can't settle on anything I'm satisfied with. So what do I do? I finish up all of the typing in of the Journal and the updating of the website files, and soon I will be able to upload all of this stuff for the first update in a month and a half. All hail the University Computer Labs!

Anyhow, I must give my apologies. First, for being so long since the last update, but things were a bit beyond my control without a new computer yet. Secondly, I apologize for the constant droning on about the new room I remodeled. I wonder who of you gives a damn - but that's what I wrote about, so we're both stuck with it. Finally, I apologize for not being able to be back to regular updates. Since I haven't bought the new computer yet, I am limited to my access to the University Computer Labs for uploads, and I'll probably be only updating (uploading) about twice a week (sometimes more, sometimes less). Hey! It's better than nothing, so get used to it.

So thanks for the patience, and look at the new poems and stuff. Expect more poems and short stories over the next few months, too. Since I have to make new stuff for my Creative Writing classes, I fully expect to have things I like enough to post on the Dreamworld. So try to enjoy the new stuff.

Lastly, thanks for surfing over here in the first place. I have allowed the site to remain obscure until there's more to read and enjoy, but later this year I'll join some webrings and add some metatags to the site to get more traffic. In the meantime, I appreciate the very few of you who surf over occasionally to see what I'm whining about since the last time you checked things. If you have any comments, please e.mail me. I sometimes think this site is seen by no one (well, except me, and I don't really count).

Posted Written at 11:46 PM

=========================================== As you will read in the preceding Journal entries (and in others back into mid-June), my laptop was stolen and I have been unable to post updates to the website until I started posting using the computers in the campus labs. In hindsight, all of the hassles I had from Blogger.com might have been worth muddling through since I could have still posted Journal entries from someone else's computer. But I made due anyhow. What you will read in these blue (now black) entries will be the Journals I kept on paper while I had no computer available. I have spent time typing all of this in so that the Journals have some form of completeness. Journals have been written daily and entered piecemeal in the computer labs. I hope you appreciate it (all one or two of you who ever read this).
=============================================================================

September 4, 2001

I've been a bit better today - not much, but a bit. I wrote a sonnet for my Poetry class and I sort of have another poem as well, and I got a few small things set up for school this week. The big thing I didn't finish was a short story. I don't technically have to have this story done until Friday, but the professor was hoping I'd have it done for tomorrow because of the way the workshops are scheduled. There's no chance for that now, but at least I think I have the basic idea for a story that I can work up by the end of the week ... maybe.

The important thing today is that my depression has broken up. That doesn't mean I'm exactly cheery or positive, but I don't feel the shroud of sadness and emptiness hanging over me like I did over the last few days. It's a good thing, too. That depression was really bumming me out.

So now I'm looking forward to getting a few things done this week: a short story or two written, the final work typed in at school to get my Journal and website updated, and the chance to get a feel for how poems and stories are "workshopped" in my various classes. Also this week, I can go see "Shrek" again for free on campus if I want. What I'm hoping for is to just get relaxed and into a groove so that I have a sense of what I need to do each week in writing and reading for classes. If I can get the right feel for it, each week will just flow pretty smoothly without any undue stress. And that would be cool.

Posted Written at 11:19 PM

September 3, 2001

It has been another long, ugly day. I woke at 7 AM, then 8 AM, then about every half hour or less from there until I finally forced my sorry ass out of bed just a few minutes before Noon. I just felt so empty and hopeless.

I feel really stupid writing about this. Every once in a while would be one thing, but this seems to be all I write about in this Journal. Not only does it get to the point where it seems like a waste of my time to write it, but I have to wonder why in the hell anyone would even have the remotest interest in reading it. I mean it's not like I even face daily problems like anti-gay attacks or general harassment or even angry confrontations with some guy or another that I might have been staring at (...and this could indeed come up). I don't have any real daily tribulations; I just get upset about unresolved problems from my past and the feelings of emptiness I feel from being lonely. The common answers from people are surely always the same: "Forget the past and look to the future," and "You can't stop being lonely if you don't take the chance to meet new people." Sure, that seems simple enough ... but it's not really that simple for me.

But then, nobody cares or understands that (or cares to understand that, even). Nobody really cares at all. Saturday, early in the day before the dinner with Christiana, I saw her to find out when and where things were to be. I was quite down, and it was obvious, but Christiana, in a typical approach, said, "Do I even want to know what's wrong?" in a tone that made it clear she didn't want to know. In fact, she really didn't have to say anything because I know from past experience that she doesn't want to hear any of it. But I shouldn't be too hard on her - most people I used to think of as my "friends" have told me over the course of time that I should "keep my problems to myself (or keep anything about being gay to myself)" or I should "just stay away unless I'm in a good mood." So that means unless I'm a Hallmark Card I shouldn't ever bother them, I guess. None of these rules apply to them, mind you. I'm supposed to be there for their problems and their grumpy or sad moments ... that is unless I have problems or am sad, in which case what the hell am I doing when they're the one with a real problem. And the few times someone might listen for some reason, they never understand. They don't even try, I think. They catch a part of it and then form their own conclusions about the rest rather than try to understand what I'm telling them. Thus when I talk about being lonely, they 'understand,' even though they're married and have been in a relationship at every point in their life since they were 15. Or when I talk about not fitting in, they 'know' what I mean because they 'know' how it was when they had to buy their clothes from Target one time, rather than Old Navy or Abercrombie and Fitch. Or when I tell them how much I want and need someone who has an innocence about them, a reverence for the world around them, and a youthful exuberance that makes their spirit alive, they 'understand' what I mean because that obviously means I'm a pedophile. They don't understand. They don't listen. They don't care. And I guess I just get what I deserve because they never wanted to have to listen to my problems or fears anyhow.

I find it ironic that the one thing I like most to do and find the most personal satisfaction from, listening to people's problems and fears and helping them solve them or work through them, is the one thing I can't get from anyone, no matter how close of a friend they claim to be and no matter how much I have been there for them. I know it's probably just a Dreamworld fantasy, but I so want to find a partner who will share with me - listening to me and helping me and letting me do the same for them. That's what love means. That's a friend. That's a soulmate. But just like everything else in the Dreamworld, I'm beginning to realize that it will likely never exist in this world. It just isn't fair.

Posted Written at 9:44 PM

September 2, 2001

Everything is wrong. How did Moby get it so right?

I've been very down yesterday and today, feeling more and more lonely, more and more worthless, and more and more hopeless. The dinner yesterday didn't do anything to make me feel any better, and the solitary time in my studios at the Arts Center don't help either. In fact, I've gotten further depressed because I can't come up with any motivation or ideas for the short story or poems that are due this week for classes. I know that my writer's block is a result of the depression, but finding myself unable to get these things finished is just feeding into my feelings of being a loser.

Wow, do I sound pathetic. Why is it such a surprise to me that nobody wants to get to know me when this is what I am?

The only real pleasure I've had in the last few days has been watching Clotho, my fish. Ever since I moved Clotho's tank to the new room, cleaned it out, and constructed a new light, Clotho has just been full of energy and just darts all around the tank looking at things and having fun. When I feed her, she practically jumps out of the tank when she rushes up to snatch the food flakes as they fall from my fingers. She has never been this exuberant or happy in the whole time I've had her. It has been really wonderful to watch her seeming so happy.

It's funny that something so simple and minor as watching my fish swim around her small tank can give me pleasure, but I've always been able to find a lot of pleasure in seeing other people be happy, particularly if I can feel that I had some part in helping them become happy. That's possibly what I miss and need more than anything else - the chance to make people happy and enjoy seeing them happy because of that. Once upon a time, I was able to do that, and I was able to feel like I had a purpose and something useful to impart to the world.

But I don't have that anymore. It doesn't seem like I have anything anymore. Just a lot of problems and fears.

Yeah. Fuck you, Jimmy Stewart. It's not a Wonderful Life.

Posted Written at 1:57 AM

September 1, 2001

Christiana had a birthday celebration tonight at Red Lobster. She had originally invited everyone (me, Joné, Nathan, George, and Mimmo, a friend Christiana made while in Chile (he has moved to Cleveland to attend college)) and she was going to pay for the meal from her financial aid disbursement, but that was cast aside because she found she had so many expenses to pay off. While Christiana's birthday isn't for another week, Nathan's birthday was on Thursday, so she figured it would be a good way to celebrate both (and Mimmo is only in town for the weekend, so timing was an issue).

The meal was nice, and we had a decent time for the most part, but George was just looking for a fight, saying abusing things to Joné, myself, and even Christiana. Joné took the most abuse but she verbally fought back and then some. George became more irritated, then Joné got more irritated, I added comments as George irritated me more, and Mimmo and Nathan remained silent and watched. Each time I looked at Christiana, she was simply smiling or laughing, amused at the spectacle of it all and not bothered in the least at the mean-spirited attacks her friends were making upon one another.

Joné and I have made it clear to Christiana in the past that we don't want to do anything with her anymore if George is involved, getting things to the point where we almost never see Christiana anymore because George is always around, even though Christiana claims that she has told him that she doesn't like him anymore (or something like that). George was, in fact, supposed to be notably absent from this dinner, hence the accpetance of Joné and I to come along, but Christiana made yet another change in plans and brought him along. As the evening went on, Joné and I decided to leave early to simply get away from George. It was quite clear that Christiana knew what was going down, but she simply chose to ignore it (or actually enjoy it as was annoyingly the case in many instances) rather than do anything that might offend the weasel (aka George).

I've pretty much had enough of this shit at this point, and I have decided that Christiana will have to come to me from now on, meeting me in my rooms rather than the other way around, arranging to get together with me based on my schedule rather than hers, and without any involvement or sight of George at any instance. Part of me feels that I'm being a little selfish, but a larger part of me knows that I can't be around the negative energy inside George, particularly when I see him try to start fights and not only be abusive to me but to others around me like Joné and even to his pseudo-girlfriend, Christiana. He deserves to be physically hurt to inflict a suffering upon him which he will understand, and if I continue to be exposed to his asininity, I will be the instrument of vengeance. This obviously is something I can't allow to happen, and since Christiana is unwilling to distance herself from George's destructive attitude then I have no choice but to avoid George myself and, consequentially, Christiana as well.

I'm really bothered by this because I'm dealing with problems with Shannon where I feel that I'm being used by her, and I also have a looming problem that Joné is going to quit working in the office at the Arts Center, and I know that I will see less and less of her when she gets a different job. Without Christiana, Shannon, or Joné, I am back to being almost completely alone, certainly in the sense of having any consistent contact with someone more than once every few months. I don't look forward to complete isolation again. I need people in my life, and I can see that falling apart again right before my eyes.

Why is everything so complicated?

Posted Written at 12:59 AM