April 29, 2009 (119/365)

Frightening Realization: It's disturbing that most of the things that keep me stable are things I can't get regularly.

April 28, 2009 (118/365)

Want is a frigid, sadistic bitch, and I'd kick the living piss out of her if I could.

April 27, 2009 (117/365)

You can look at the menu but you just can’t eat
You can feel the cushions but you can’t have a seat
You can dip your foot in the pool but you can’t have a swim
You can feel the punishment but you can’t commit the sin
And you want her and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

No One Is To Blame - Howard Jones

April 26, 2009 (116/365)

I'm inventing a new word/title: Soul-Ally. V. is mine.

April 25, 2009 (115/365)

I've felt like I belonged somewhere else all day, but I don't really know where that might be. It's an "out of place" feeling. Like I'm someone other than who I am. I've been thinking about multiple personality disorder lately and wondering if I might be headed for something like that. I realize it's a detrimental condition, but I wonder sometimes if it might not be nice.

April 24, 2009 (114/365)

Give her red hair, and Ali Larter might make a decent Mary Jane Watson-Parker in the Spider-Man movies. I think my preferred actress is still Charisma Carpenter. Kirsten Dunst is just not good in the role.

April 23, 2009 (113/365)

My carefully planned presentations always degenerate into oral ramblings. I hate it when I do that.

April 22, 2009 (112/365)

It's unsettling and/or unfulfilling to be creative and not like the things you end up making.

April 21, 2009 (111/365)

I wish Z. was right and I could be paid for what I'm best at. It's sexual discrimination really.

April 20, 2009 (110/365)

I love waking you up from your nap. Because in that barely awake, reality-hasn't-sunk-in-yet state, you smile like you're still in love with me. It makes me cry.

April 19, 2009 (109/365)

Last night ended exactly as I feared it would. Road to Hell... good intentions...

April 18, 2009 (108/365)

Having friends who are "users"* is really a drain on my ego. They make more than casual contact only when they need something from me (which I always accommodate), and when getting together is important to me but not them, they bail out at the 11th hour 100% of the time. It's infuriating because it hurts and sad because I consider them my friends and get slapped in the face with the realization that we don't consider each other friends on the same level. Their excuses may be legitimate or not, but because the situation is important to me and not them, they don't bother making preparations/adjustments to their schedules to make it. If I didn't so desperately need people to help me keep my emotional balance, I'd [deletes something unnecessarily rude, instead choosing] just distance myself.

*A user in this respect is not drug related but someone who bases social interaction with others on what they can do for them, essentially, using them. It's not malicious, that's just how they're wired.

April 17, 2009 (107/365)

My fucking psyche.... I've been so beaten down for so long that the mere thought of something good happening to me scares me. When I have mental images of good things happening to me, I flinch like I've been burned. I can't dare allow myself to become hopeful or enjoy the ideas for even a moment. That way lies pain and disappointment. Always.

Pretty fucked up, huh.

April 16, 2009 (106/365)

I can feel myself screaming just below the surface tonight. The impulse is there, but I'm always able to hold it down. Still, I can visualize it and hear it in my head. It's born of frustration. When you stand on railroad tracks, you know you'll eventually get hit by a train.... yet I keep stepping onto the tracks hoping for something good will come of it. Am I crazy?

April 15, 2009 (105/365)

Wow, there's a strong pressure in my ears tonight, and they're ringing. It's off-putting.

No.... no, I've got nothing else tonight.

April 14, 2009 (104/365)

I can feel "bad" nipping at the edges of my psyche again tonight. I think it's because I have so many things I need to get done soon and so many more I want to do (in many cases, want to do instead). I am making a sincere effort on one of those many fronts tonight. I've needed to get this book laid out for too long, but let the little graphic stumbling blocks stall me.

I've also realized in the past couple days that I'm having to sensor what I write here because it's an open blog, and I don't want some people reading some things that may be on my mind. It has the pang of restriction.

March 13, 2009 (103/365)

When those little voices inside your head start talking to you, listen to them. Especially when they tell you to stay home and work, or watch TV, or pick lint out of your navel instead of going to visit someone you'd like to see but who the little voices say will only bring a string of circumstances the likes of which would make the Keystone Cops cringe in disbelief.

Lesson learned, little voice, lesson learned.

April 12, 2009 (102/365)

I realized something today. I dread holidays... with a neck-sweat-trickling passion. And it's because on the holidays I'm expected to trek the 3.5 hours downstate to visit my family. Today was once again time for the reaffirming that I'm the disappointing freak of the family. ... the misguided son ...the irresponsible sibling ...the useless father. They never really say it, but it's written on their faces and between the lines of their smalltalk.

I used to like holidays.

April 11, 2009 (101/365)

Special circumstances here. I was out til 3:00am and had to get up at 7:00am. No writey.

April 10, 2009 (100/365)

I'm really not handling late nights very well.

April 9, 2009 (99/365)

Tomorrow will be my first day back at the magazine since they quartered my hours (same as all the other "casual" workers, except the 4 unlucky bastards who got canned). It's a little like going to a social function that you know a freshly-ex'ed girlfriend is going to be at. Uncomfortable. Not that I didn't know this was coming. Even before the sales department started coming up short, I realized this was a print publication and was therefore 99% likely to be doomed. (In the roshambo of publishing, Internet beats Paper.) The Powers That Be have, unfortunately, hastened its demise by not fully understanding what it is they're printing. If this were any other magazine, what they did would make financial sense. They cut production from biweekly to roughly monthly or even bimonthly. The detail not fully appreciated is the fact that this is a nursing placement magazine (interspersed with light articles) instead of some normal special interest-rag. No hospital nor doctor's office is going to want to pay to run an ad that no one's going to see for a month when they have an open job now. Counter-intuitive as it might sound, what they needed to do was bump the book to a weekly, print one national issue (they currently print a dozen regional versions), lower the price of ads, and pump the fact that we're showing more ads more often now. Did they consult me? No. If they had, I'd have grown the largest, brassiest pair of balls in the house... I'd have told them to publish more, not less, and that they needed to pay me more for my scintillating insights.

April 8, 2009 (98/365)

Watched some old episodes of Pushing Daisies tonight. It continues to amaze and infuriate me over how the American TV-watching audience shuns quality programming in favor of what they've seen a million times. Pushing Daisies was one of the most brilliant shows I've ever seen on TV. It was equally hailed by "critics," yet the average TV watching zombie didn't take the time to "get it," viewership quickly sank, and the network got nervous and killed it even before all their finished episodes had aired. They're finally showing the last 3 episodes this summer.... on Saturdays at 9pm. There is no worse air time. Insult to injury. The same thing is now happening to the new show, Kings, which is also fresh, interesting, and well made.... everything viewers fear. They'd rather have season 105 of Law & Order: Creative Intent or the inexplicably bad but intellectually unthreatening Knight Rider.

I deeply, deeply hate you people.

April 7, 2009 (97/365)

I'm a little sick and tired of the forced balancing of my life. I've endured it for as long as I can remember. Whenever something good happens in my life, something equally bad has to follow it up almost immediately. I had such good things happening around me a few days ago, and today it's time to pay the piper. I fucking hate you, Fate. If you had physical embodiment, I'd kick your fucking teeth in.

April 6, 2009 (96/365)

Classic "bad thing" about depression: A day like today when everyone around me is happy and being nice to me, and I'm still down and can barely motivate myself to leave the house. Days like today, I miss out on life.

Depression... whine... blah blah blah. Days like today I actually hope no one reads this blog.

April 5, 2009 (95/365)

It saddened me today to realize that everything in the world boils down to money (et al). Courts place a dollar value on "pain and suffering." Cigarette and pharmaceutical companies use the estimated payout in court of lives lost through their products when determining if a product is profitable to produce. This all came to mind, while watching a show about WWII, from a simple urge to express thanks to war veterans and the realization that personal gratitude carries no value any more. Much like a person's promise or sworn oath, it has no meaning any more.

Fuck you, you greedy, unscrupulous world.

April 4, 2009 (94/365)

I'm evoking the "didn't get home til 5am" clause.

April 3, 2009 (93/365)

I promised no minutia of my life, so I'll keep this brief. Layoffs at work today. My hours quartered. I'm not much in the mood to write. In fact I'm not sure I'm in the mood to continue this blog. We'll see.

April 2, 2009 (92/365)

Work was overwhelming. Didn't bother writing.

April 1, 2009 (91/365)

Sign me up for a Stepford wife. I want that perfect, custom-made girl, and no one's enough for me tonight. It's not their fault, I'm just a whiny fuck. I'm also tired of being a whiny fuck. I'm tired of writing here night after night about my negative feelings. ...oh, poor me.

March 31, 2009 (90/365)

This just in: People are strange. I wish I was of a better frame of mind to appreciate it.