Mon, Jan. 10th, 2005, 07:15 pm
All I do is mope around the house and pray for an E-mail to kill the time. Wait for some pretty girl 2,000 miles away to come online to engage in idle chatter about NOTHING; relationships that will amount to the same. There has to be more to life than the anticipation of death.
Is it hypocritical or is it ironic: That we find amusement in irony, but hypocricy nauseates us.
Thu, Jan. 6th, 2005, 07:33 pm
I built a room for myself.
I needed a place to go to escape... well, everything. All I saw around me. Hatred, idiocy, ignorance, disrespect. Rain, snow, night. Lust. Lies. Hypocricy. The All-Too-Human.
I was 5'10" and I wanted as little extra space as necessary, so less air and less filth could touch me. So I built the room 6 feet wide, 6 feet deep, and 6 feet tall. Now I'm 6'2".
I constructed my room from the inside. A door or window would defeat my intent. So I put the walls up around me and laid the roof on top and was happy.
Five years later. I'm not so happy. In locking out hatred, I locked out love. In closing off idiocy, I closed off enlightenment. Respect, clear, calm, warm, light, truth. Irony. The More-Than-Human.
Only now can I see the shingles on my roof are made of my dreams, my hopes, my aspirations and desires; carpentry nails driven through them, baking under the sun and snow as only a crucifiction allows.
Five years later. I have not seen the sun. I have not had fresh air, water, or nourishment. I haven't the strength to tear down my room.
Tue, Dec. 7th, 2004, 04:55 pm
If the second wrong is still wrong, why does it feel so right?
After last month left me with a disgusting taste in my mouth; after America, Americans, and the whole bloody system failed spectacularly, I decided to take action.
Nobody in the "liberal" sector in America moves, nobody speaks up, nobody stands up. We just sit by and let the wealthy conservatives have everything because, well, they're rich and they'll take it all anyways.
I'd decided I'd had enough, and I was going to unite several local liberal factions under a common banner before W takes the 2008 election, too.
Before organizing anything or contacting one person, I gave up.
I gave up not out of desperation or helplessness or fear or loss. I looked into myself and I realized there is one thing I can not bear to part with, one thing which I know they can take from me. I've seen it happen.
I won't sell the stars in my eyes for the world.
Sun, Sep. 12th, 2004, 11:26 pm
I'm in serious pursuit of a boy-scout badge, the likes of which modesty will likely prevent me from ever wearing.
Sun, Aug. 29th, 2004, 09:40 am
I hope this journal idea didn't come to me only for the reason of confessing my indescretion.
I must start actively living my life again. Most of the time these days, I walk around in a wishful future-haze, ignoring the present. I used to live entirely in the present, analyzing and re-analyzing and over-analyzing.
I used to love watching other people, studying them from afar.
These days, I can barely stand to look at them.
I nearly cheated on my girlfriend a couple nights ago. Had I not been quite so drunk I would have, but I was too drunk to simply follow (what I believed to be) a girl out of Bar Sin. I didn't even get her(?) name.
Now I ask myself, "Why?"
Amy is far and away the best girlfriend I've ever had. She gives me so much and I trust her entirely. And she trusts me. Why, I do not know. I wouldn't trust me. Perhaps she doesn't know me like I do.
I know I tend to the depressive side, and I have been trapped in a cycle of dead-end job after dead-end job for what feels like eternity, or at least the beginning of eternity.
The only thing I've been able to come up with is self- destruction.
After all, I couldn't stay depressed if I loved my girlfriend and she loved me, and I loved my job and had a true sense of self-worth. And then how would I define my life, were it devoid of misery?
I constantly tell myself I would love to wake up each morning with a smile on my face, looking forward to another day. Be careful what you wish for... a voice tells me, you just might get it.
Would that, in fact, be the worst possible fate? To completely love yourself and love your life? What, then, would one look forward to?