NOSTALGIA IS A WEAPON

-The world is a bit of a haze now, seen through the eyes of several beers, a mildly drunken filter placed in front of the world.

I stand in front of the mirror, shirtless. My eyes, pupils shrunken against the light. I see that I have form but not build. There is very little substance to me. My pants, size 28 waist, hang loosely just below my hips. Even the smallest waist-size pants fit me improperly. I am not frail, whispers of muscle definition, borne only by my exertion at work, peering around the edges of my frame. Yet it would take only a strong wind to sweep me away.

And there is a revelation: my mental self dwelling parallel to my physical body. Here is this structure which moves about and speaks, and yet exists as very little other than such. My true self, my personality, only visible at the corners, hides in the shadows. Incomplete perhaps, as the muscles are. In need of discipline, exercise, practical use in order to build into something tangible. -

Nothing but stream-of-consciousness ramblings written minutes ago, long after I should be asleep. God knows why I’m posting this, but who cares, really?

Various aspects of various people have been grating on me lately, so I’m going to turn the tables on myself and wonder how obnoxious I am to others. What do I do that gets on others’ nerves? I know I can be clingy, needy. I can be a little too obsessed with things at times. I can be both overly passionate and completely dispassionate about stuff, sometimes to the detriment of others. I dunno. There’s probably dozens more that I’m unaware of. But I think I’m going to try and improve on those things. A little self-betterment. Be a little more attentive and receptive to the vibe coming from other people. Start working on those Nohari adjectives, improving what’s in my control to improve.

Um, maybe I need to talk to my therapist.

Yeah, so that update I promised- I forgot about it. Oops. But hey, I’m here now! Hi.

I now present my list of Things I’ve Been Meaning To Write About For The Last Month Or So:

• Started a job (finally!). I’m working as a book slave for Borders. Rough start, but things seem to be going fairly well at the moment, so I think I’m going to stick with it for a while. It’s a little tough getting up at 4:30 every morning (yes, I am insane), but I’ve made it work thus far. There’s a whole bunch of work-related bitching I could add here, but I’ll spare you that.
• I’ve made a new friend (again, finally!). I think. Maybe. It’s a little complicated. Shortish version : There’s an amazing guy at work named Matt. He’s the training supervisor, so I worked with him closely for a few weeks. One day he was coming in as I was leaving, and I stopped to chat for a moment. Suddenly it’s three hours later, and Matt and I have talked right through half of his shift and all of his lunch break. I don’t know why, but I immediately felt comfortable around him. We would go from discussing the finer points of “Stuff On My Cat” to the gory details of our last relationships with no transition, no awkwardness. An instant trust. Anyway, it’s really rather cool. However, we work opposite schedules, so we have had no opportunity to get together outside of work. Which just frustrates me to all hell. I’ve finally found a friend, but I don’t get to hang out with him? Argh. I’m going to have to learn to be patient one of these days.
• As of last week I’ve now been on two consecutive dates with a really nice guy. I have no idea if this is going to turn into anything, but it feels like it has the potential to. (Moment of honesty: I’m absolutely terrified of it working out. I have no idea why.) We’ve spoken on the phone every day for the last few days, we’re going to get together later this week. This could either be really good or really bad. Time will tell.

Yeah, so that’s my update. It took me four drafts to write this, condensing it dramatically every time. I haven’t been writing anything for a while. I feel like I’ve become quite poor at it all of a sudden. My apologies for the rambling.

I hope you’re all well. Thanks to everyone who filled out the thingies from the previous post. I feel like I’ve got a better idea of how I really am now (I even got my Mom to fill it out! Because I am so cool…), and that gives me something to work with. One of these days I’ll try to post something interesting.

Tonight is one of those nights when I feel I am truly alone. There’s this overwhelming feeling that, no matter how great a support system I have, I’ll always fail because I’m incapable of holding myself up. I’m hyperemotional. I’m on the verge of tears, and I have no idea why. I really don’t feel all that down, all things considered. Just alone.

There’s this constant monologue running in my head, the voice that does all my thinking for me. Lately I’ve been unable to make it shut the hell up, and it’s getting rather exhausting. I need a break from myself, if that makes sense. I need other things to occupy my mind with so I can silence the perpetual commentary.

I’ve also been bandying about this idea about my relationships with other people. I’m grateful for the fact that I have people out there who love and care for me. But, in addition to the wonderful comfort, there’s this other side. Being loved is terrifying, and painful. It means that I can fail people. One of my greatest fears lies in the failing of others, the possibility that I’ll be the bad friend/son/lover/etc. That, no matter how hard I try, I’ll fuck it up, or that the effort will not be good enough.

Sigh. This was supposed to be an entry linking to Zefrank’s video blog. I spent several hours there today, laughing and appreciating his perspective. Wit combined with intelligence go a long way with me. I think I’ve developed a small internet crush.

So yeah, go check out his site. Sorry about all the other stuff. I’m just in a mood.

This MSNBC article irks me. Claiming that song lyrics are responsible for an increase in sexual activity in teens seems like a very small-minded view. How about factoring in other forms of media? What percentage of these kids has seen an American Pie movie, or watched The OC or Laguna Beach (while I’ve never watched either show, their previews contain some fairly steamy action)? We live in a culture that is all about promoting sex to teens. There are tons of things other than song lyrics that need to be taken into consideration.

I never listened to much sexually explicit music when I was younger (I don’t now, actually). But I remember hearing Liz Phair’s Exile In Guyville when I was twelve. I’m thinking of one song in particular, a song called Flower. Here are some of the lyrics:

I want to fuck you like a dog; I want to be your blowjob queen; I’ll fuck you ’til your dick is blue.

Now I will admit that this had a small effect in shaping my view of sexuality, but it certainly didn’t have any bearing on when I started having sex. I heard that song and others like it at twelve, and didn’t have sex until I was nineteen (well, okay, depends on your definition of sex, but still). I realize that the article is likely referring to more of the hardcore rock and rap songs, stuff about “fuckin’ bitches and hos” and god-knows what else (though I’m not trying to pigeonhole either genre, there’s good along with the bad). But I really think that has more to do with shaping male and female roles than it does promoting sex. It’s the same thing with drugs in music. Whether it be The Beatles and “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” or Tom Petty and “Mary Jane”, songs don’t influence me to do drugs. Well, except one (“Rain In England” makes me pine for a good hallucinogen). Anyway, there is one voice of reason in the article:

“It’s a little dangerous to just pinpoint one thing. You have to look at everything that’s going on in a young person’s life,” she said. “When somebody has a healthy sense of themselves, they don’t take these lyrics too seriously.”

Exactly.

Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about here. But I would like to point out the startling inconsistency between media and parents/teachers. Once again, we live in a culture that promotes sex to teens. However, a great majority of schools teach abstinence-only sex ed (especially in the South). We have a problem here. No wonder kids are confused.

In rereading last night’s post, I suddenly realized how insanely childish I sound. Just when I think I’m an adult, a moment like this shows me that I have a lot farther to go before I join the ranks of the mature.

I had this odd conversation with myself today about sex changes. Regender-fication (is that a word?). While I have absolutely no interest in having a sex change performed (I am very happy being a man and having a penis, thanks), I am INTENSELY curious as to what kind of psychological ramifications are involved. How would I feel if I were to become a woman? How would that change my everyday life? How would that change the lives of people around me? What does it all mean?

I’m also on a bit of a rampage today. Why? Because I can’t stop hearing about *drumroll please* gay marriage. Syndromes blogged about this recently, but I feel the need to contribute my two cents.

Now let me make it very clear that I believe that sexual orientation is not a choice. It wasn’t for me. If I had the choice to be bi (as is the case) or straight (as is not the case), I probably would’ve chosen straight. Why? It’s easier. It’s absolutely fucking hell to not feel comfortable in your own skin. To feel like you have to lie to people you love, just to win their continued approval. To be called names by people who barely know you. All this fucking hurts. The only choice I had available was this: to either lie to myself and suppress who I really was, or to just own up to being myself, to be honest with myself and to explore where my (involuntary) feelings would take me. I chose the latter, and I’m a much happier person as a result.

So that being said, there’s a very good possibility that I could end up with a guy someday (if I end up with anyone, that is). If that happens, if I end up with a man that I want to spend the rest of my life with…. well, I want to get married. Denying gay marriage isn’t about protecting the “sanctity” of marriage, it’s about denial of equal rights. By denying gay marriage, you’re telling me that my love is less valid than yours. That my feelings aren’t as “real” or important. Bullshit. You can call it what you will: civil union, marriage… I’m not here to play the semantics game. What I want is the ability to validate myself, to be able to state my love in the same way that you do. I really don’t think that’s too much or too hard to ask for.

This post should probably be private, but to emphasize the point I’m going to make it public. I’m not completely out, but fuck it.

(By the way, this post isn’t targeted at anyone in specific. The “you(s)” in question are the general public, not any of you guys.)

I am in so much fucking pain right now. I just re-watched Garden State, and I’m stricken by this movie that I love, how much BULLSHIT it is. Love doesn’t conquer all, you can’t just give up on your medication, there is still this fucking huge obstacle to overcome. I hate myself so much. I’m surrounded (in spirit) by friends who love and care about me, and yet there is nothing they can say, nothing they can do to make me feel better. I feel so unbelievably fucked up, and I’m sure part of that is the medication. I’m on all these fucking drugs, addicted to them, and they’re not helping. My psychiatrist decided today to INCREASE the Zoloft, and then to add (on a temporary basis) Klonopin, which is a benzodiazepine, and fucking addictive as as hell. Great, one more thing to be addicted to. I’m addicted to all these drugs, and I’m addicted to smoking, and I just want to be free of all these dependencies. I want to feel better, and my therapist tells me I’m doing all I can. Then, what? What the fuck? Am I supposed to be CONTENT with this feeling? This feeling of worthlessness, this constant pain? I went on a fucking week’s vacation with three of my closest friends, and I was fucking miserable. There is something profoundly wrong with that sentence.

It’s the quiet night that breaks me
Like a dozen paper cuts that only I can trace

Oh, goddammit. I’m tired of being so fucking pathetic, and I’m tired of lying about it. Why the fuck can’t I just feel BETTER? What the fuck is wrong with me?

It’s 3 am and I can’t sleep and I don’t know what the hell to do. I would call my doctor tomorrow, but oh wait, it’s fucking SATURDAY. I want off these drugs. I don’t remember what it’s like to not be on them.

I pray for sleep.

Who wants to hear about the really stupid thing I did? I hope that’s everybody, ’cause here we go: (more…)

When my brother told me yesterday that he was having a party, I panicked. Parents out of town + brother having a party = not good. He says it’s a small party. How small, I ask. Oh, maybe fifteen people, says he. Fifteen people is not small. More panicking. It’s fine, he says. And then adds: oh, can you buy us alcohol? Yikes.

So I worried about this damn party all day, but when the hour of 9 finally came, six people showed up. And they didn’t want to drink, so I didn’t have to buy them alcohol. And one of them brought some weed. Which of course I am totally down with, having been good and sober for two months. We smoked, they played video games, I drank a lot of red wine and stayed up till 7 am when I suddenly realized it was daylight outside. So the big party turned out to be nothing, and I’m sure the hair I pulled out worrying about said party will grow back in a few weeks. Hooray!

Can you tell how incredibly bored I am? And that I’ve been reading Miss Doxie?