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| Okay. So I only ever come here when I'm feeling distraught. But that's what this is here for: sorting out turmoil of all kinds.
Playing on the computer kind of puts me into turmoil. Not always, but
often. I know that there are many interesting and fascinating things to
be found on the internet. I used to spend a lot of time studying this
or that. The internet can be very educational if you allow it. But I
just find myself in chatrooms or sites designed for meeting people (for
various reasons). Do I want to hook up with some hot guy? Sure. Yes,
absolutely. I'd love to have sex with some hottie. I have trouble
inviting him to my apartment. I'm a bit self-conscious about it. That's
minor. And I don't want to take up too much time on a night before
work. It's one thirty. I'd like to get back into writing. I would
really, really like to get back into writing. That's a bit harder than
one would expect, given that I have little time for much of anything
anymore, would have trouble getting back into my current work in
progress and have little to no access to any computer or word processor
of any kind. I could use paper... ugh. Not preferrable. It's so much
messier. But I'm confronted with an issue: what am I looking for?
Really, I think that I'm just looking to meet people. Why? I have good
friends. Friends that will last forever. Just a few very good friends.
And other friends come and go. They just do. Right now, I feel that I'm
a bit separated from the group of people I had hung out with for a
while. Not a problem. Again, people come and go and few stick around
forever. A very few that matter. Being a twenty-one year old male, my
hormones tend to do a lot of thinking for me. I would like to hook up
with someone. I would also like a boyfriend, or even a boyfriend-ish
type person. Maybe even a fuck buddy. Whatever. Sex is bound to weigh
heavily on my mind. But I don't really want a boyfriend. Not right now.
Not at all. I am not to be tied down. But I'm not really feeling the
whole come-over-and-fuck-me-then-leave-and-never-talk-to-me-again
thing. I'm a bit neurotic about sex anyway. I don't confident that I'd
be any fun to have sex with (for a variety of reasons). I feel a bit
inexperienced (even with having had a boyfriend for nearly two years).
It feels the sex of the past year and three quarters was... well,
somewhat unlike what sex would be with some random hottie (for a
variety of reasons). Supposedly, one can go to the bar, get tipsy, and
pick someone up, take them home, and send them off. Haven't really had
much experience with tricking, don't get how it works, wouldn't know
what to do. It just seems a bit beyond me. Not quite what I'm going
for. So... what is it that I want? Ideally, I'd like to get to know
someone, fuck around a bit, feel comfortable talking to them, hanging
out with them, then feeling free to fuck again whenever. Just someone
fun. No attatchment. Like a friend that you can fuck. Essentially what
Andrew and Seth have without the one wishing that they'd eventually
date. I fear that, in such a situation, I would fall in love, or the
other person would. So I suppose that what really makes sense is to
keep to myself, spend time with the friends that I do have, and give it
time until I do feel ready for some kind of relationship, being very
picky about my new boyfriend.
It seems that what I'm looking for beyond sex is a friend. I have
friends, but I would like to make more. I tend to keep to a small
group. Always have. That's unlikely ever to change. I can't keep up
with a group that's too large. I'll have my two or three closest
friends, then those friends that I'll hang out with every so often, who
come and go. I'd like to hold on to a few of them. That takes just a
bit of effort. Just a bit. I feel that I have neither the time nor the
energy to initiate social situations. I'd like them to come to me,
which is unrealistic. So I'll just have to put forth the effort. A lot
of my problems come from lack of initiative. Falling into my comfort
zone, which is gradually changing. I just want to know what I'm like in
four years. That should be very interesting. I'll likely be closer to
what I've been aiming for the past twelve years or so, as I've been
growing towards that (I'm a million times closer than I was twelve
years ago, but still have just a little way to go), but I fear that
I'll be sacrificing certain qualities for others. This fear (I feel
that it's a very good fear) has urged me to acquire the traits that
I've been desiring while keeping those in danger of fading away, but
this seems (at least for now) to do little more than dull them all. I
want to be very outgoing and very introverted at the same time. I want
to go out and socialize, then come home and shut that off. This is very
difficult, and, like all matters of personal growth/change takes a very
long time to do. I am, as always, impatient. It seems that I expect
things to change as soon as I recognize them. Not going to happen.
But it is very late. I absolutely must get to bed. I enjoyed this entry and this time for self inspection.
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| Oh my fucking god. What the fuck has happened to me? I can't believe a single thing.
Fuck.
Fucking fucker. My friend and his new boyfriend, whom I swear I have somewhat of a crush on came over to stay at my place, because Stephen can't stay with the lesbians because they're being stupid, and Chris, who can't stay with father, because... I don't know why... but the fucking ANIME.
The Anime, the music...
Allayall remember my addiction to anime. My neuroses with music. God. Just when everything was perfect. I broke up with my psychotic boy (at least, he turned psychotic), moved into my own place, made new friends, go out to the bar, stumble home, live across the hall from my father figure/shaman/sister/best friend/mentor. God. Everything is perfect. Then I'm bombarded with my past. Fuck. It reminds me that I don't know who the fuck I am. It reminds me that I'm not who I'd like to be, though I don't know who that is. I think I'd like to be everyone and everything at once. Silly, I know. My computer fucking broke. I can't write. I should get used to writing on paper, which is a pain. Choink. My cat... I love her to death. I don't fucking know. My typing skills suck right now. I sort of miss the time two years ago when I lived with my parents, hated everything but had Erik to talk to every day. I really, really miss that. I miss him. I felt like everything was a mess, but at least I knew what was going on: nothing. Not a damn thing. Just hopelessness and Erik. I swear I was in love with him, despite that even now I've never met him. He was supposed to come down on spring break, but I suppose it's understandable that he wouldn't. He had his birthday and I forgot to call him. He's someone that I connected with. He fixed many of my insecurities. I don't know if there's anyone else like him, but I doubt that I'd meet him. I'm so horny right now. I wan't someone, whether for sex or a relationship. Seriously. I'm lost, as I'm sure everyone is. I was hoping to get onto aimexpress, but it wasn't working for me. I'm so glad that I'm out of that mess with Paul. I don't what was wrong with me. He's so not for me. He lies, he lies, he LIES. Exaggeration and misleading and outright lies! Not to mention craziness and dependence and devouring every last bit of my attention and energy. I couldn't take it anymore. Why the fuck did he decide to work with me? Isn't it a well-known, unwritten rule that one should not work with one's boyfriend/girlfriend?! God. Fuck. I'm pretty well drunk and that's the way that I like it. I want to find someone intelligent, cute, young, spiritual, kind, wise, creative, and quirky. I love quirky people. That's why I like Chris so much. It's just that when we hung out, he was so smitten with me so quickly that I was scared and didn't know what to do. I wasn't ready. And now he's WITH Stephen, and I don't know what do with that. It explodes my mind. Everything explodes my mind. I don't know what's up with me. I felt so secure until just few minutes ago, when everything was thrust into my face. My past. Who the fuck am I?! I've been so many people, all of whick is me, but none who is exactly me. Perhaps it's all exactly me. I don't fucking know. I hate everythihng, except for work, which is my home. It's always there for me. I go to work, do my job, and come home exhausted and go to bed. That's nice.But there's more. Like the writing that I haven't done for two years, My life here on xanga and on aim with those disembodied, but wonderful people, whom I have driven away. I have David. I'll always have David. I have Stephen. Angelo, despite that he's a bit odd. Andrew. My good friend Andrew, whom I don't see NEARLY enough of, and his good, good friend Seth, on whom I have the HUGEST crush, which I know is silly and stupid, but unavoidable nonetheless. I'm all alone. That's what I've wanted. I like it, but I need something.
Like... WHO THE FUCK AM I?
I suppose that I'm all of those people in one. And I'm tired as fuck. I suppose that I'll go to sleep. This craziness. This is sweet, ignorant craziness.
I miss Erik and regret pushing him away. I hope to speak with him more.'
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| Got a new apartment, broke up with Paul, turned twenty-one, got a new haircut, and changed my name. I now live across the hall from my gay shaman David, in a very central location in Columbus. I've learned how easy it is to pick up guys. It's now only a matter of picking up the right ones. The ones that you actually want to sleep with. Even easier than picking up guys is picking up boyfriends, which isn't much fun. I so don't want a boyfriend right now. I don't want to be responsible for anyone's feelings. God. I'm so unused to this. I don't know what to say. | | |
| We put up most of our Christmas decorations. This involves stockings
for each of our pets... including each of our fish... which adds up to
twenty one stockings. We got the fish tiny little stockings and hung
them up over the counter in the apartment.
Also, I need to leave in half an hour, so I'll cut this short, despite all that I'm sure I have to say.
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| My car has many problems, most of the minor, some potentially major. The most annoying problem is that it squeals. It has been squealing for some time, and has done so off and on since I began driving it. Last night, after Paul came home from work with his paycheck, and I came home from my day off doing manual labor for Mike and Kevin, which I had expected to take no longer than maybe three hours, but which actually wound up taking six, Paul and I were on our way to the Wal-Mart Supercenter to cash his paycheck to fix my car, the alternator belt shredded (I had been expecting it to snap, as it usually does, but it's all to the same effect). Fortunately, I had a spare (I had been expecting it to snap). Also, very fortunately, Paul was with me. So I pulled into the Speedway gas station so Paul could fix my car. As I parked and we popped the hood open, we noticed a hugenormous puddle of oil gushing out from under the car. We were fucked. My car was dead. All of that oil was, like, all of the oil that my car would likely have contained. Paul fixed the belt, then searched for the leak. Couldn't find it. So we called our neighbor Rob to see if he would come pick us up, take us to Wal-Mart, then back to Speedway so Paul could call Triple A (never saw it written like that, but don't know how else to write it other than 'AAA' which seems even weirder to me). Rob could not come right away, as Little Rob was asleep and could not be left alone. So he called his sister to see if she'd watch Little Rob while he was rescuing us. We waited ten minutes and called Rob back. Busy. We called several more times over the next five minutes. Busy. When we finally got a hold of him, he told us that he could not get a hold of his sister. I then called my mom and informed her of the situation. She woke my dad, who drove to the Speedway to examine the car. As he was on his way, Paul called his mother to get the number for Triple A (AAA) and put something or other on standby until we were sure that we needed them to tow my car. Also, as we were waiting for my dad's arrival, I followed the oil leak to the street and found that it lead into the wrong side of the road. There was no way that the hugenormous puddle had come from my car. My dad looked the car over and checked the oil (it did need oil, but I had known that anyway). So we put oil in it, then started the car and tentatively headed to Wal-Mart. Not a problem. My dad went home and Paul and I proceeded to cash his check so we could further fix my car the next morning (we would take my car the mechanic's shop next door in the morning and Rob would drive me to work; Paul would be able to check on the car as he left work himself at four). Of course, more difficulties arose. The machine could not read Paul's check, no matter what Paul or the lady at customer service tried. So we decided to try Meijer (customer service was not open at 2:00 A.M.), then Giant Eagle (we did not have a Giant Eagle card on us). Kroger was already out of the picture (Paul's check was three hundred eighteen dollars and one cent over their check-cashing limit). So we went home. I went to work (without worrying about my alternator's belt snapping, leaving me stranded and either clueless about how to fix it, or making me very late), made little money, cashed the paycheck that I had received, bought crickets and two rats for our basilisk lizard and snake, then cleaned the apartment before picking Paul up at work to take him to the other Wal-Mart to attempt to cash his check there. I was fairly certain that the machine there would also fail to read his check. Fortunately, the lady at the counter immediately tore it in two, then attempted to fix it with tape. When it failed to read (after calling her supervisor, and then the store's general manager), Wal-Mart took the blame itself and gave Paul his eight hundred fifteen dollars and one cent.
So we see it as that the belt snapped last night so that it wouldn't happen this morning, and also to give my dad a much, much needed opportunity to tinker on a car. The check was ripped this evening so that Wal-Mart would be forced to take the blame and give us our money anyway.
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