Ignorance: Avoided by Reading More than one Book.

Yesterday, I opened my mailbox to find a pamphlet that says 'Jesus Christ: HE IS YOUR ANSWER' in my mailbox. I read it cover to cover. It sounded like propaganda, it had no real substance to its message, and it made Christians look incredibly ignorant—pretty much what you'd expect from the mentally inept people who usually spout this crap. It's not the fact that it promoted a religion that made it stupid; it's the fact that the people who wrote it were clearly retarded and had no clue as to the reality of the world around them. More on that piece of shit later.

I've been thinking about religion quite a bit lately. To put it simply, I think the aim of all religions is to fool, control and abuse the intellectually inept and those who can't properly critically think. Its goal is to regulate and manipulate, not to save like they so often claim. If you need to stick a label to my forehead, I am an agnostic (in terms of god in general), and an atheist (in terms of the Abrahamic God).

This said, however, I do not automatically hate or even dislike someone if and when I find out they have faith in a religion of some form—this alone does not make someone worth hating or disliking. The moment they say something of pure religious conviction that contradicts scientific knowledge or basic common sense, I usually lose respect for said person very, very quickly. Two of my closest friends are both Christians, and I don't know what I would have done without them. They've helped me countless times when I was in need, without banging on about their shit; they're both intelligent, caring people, regardless of their faith. So I don't develop disdain for a person simply because of their religious background—only on one's actions and intentions do I judge someone.

Even my first (and, at this stage, only :P) girlfriend is Christian. I knew of her faith before we started dating, but I couldn't care less at the time. Did it honestly matter? I couldn't have given less of a shit about her beliefs back then, even though I didn't share them; it blew me away that she'd put aside our differences just so we could be together. It never came between us, not for a long time. I knew it probably meant she would be unwilling to explore sexual avenues, but this was our first relationship, and it lasted little more than six months. I wasn't going to ask anyway, because religious or irreligious, we weren't ready for that kind of intimacy, and discussing it would just have made her uncomfortable. I was lucky to be with her at all; far be it from me to push things :P

Well, as much as I understood that, I was still going to play "Bash the Bible Basher".

Skip ahead about four months. By this time, I'd become wrapped up in more controversial stand-up comedians, starting with George Carlin, and moving on to Lenny Bruce, Bill Hicks, etc. Anyone familiar with even the gist of their work will cite its dark, cynical, anti-authoritarian nature; and that's what I became: darkly cynical and anti-authoritarian :P  I quickly grew to internally criticise religion, writing more and more on the subject in short monologues. At the same time, our year was doing some kind of life skills program (I would have thought you got those by... living... life... o.O). Among the workshops was one on homosexuality, and its tolerance in society—a few gay people came in to discuss their experiences, and would answer any questions the group had. My then-girlfriend was in the same group as me, so we did the workshop at the same time. After it ended, we left the building. Upon reaching the area where we hung out, I was about to reek of bigotry:

"Well, that was a bit pointless for you, wasn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're Christian, so you think gay people are all going to Hell anyway."

...see what I mean :P  I've more or less jumped to the conclusion she's homophobic based purely on her supposed religious beliefs. Now, I can't remember this conversation word for word, but it went something like this:

"Well, it's not like I hate gay people or anything——"

"Yeah, but you think they go to Hell just because they're gay."

"Well, I do think homosexuality is a sin, but that doesn't mean——"

"According to you, people go to Hell if they sin even once. Isn't that putting them on the same level as murderers?"

She now has tears in her eyes. She starts to cry, albeit holding back the tears to speak:

"I don't think gay people are on the same level as murderers; that's not what I think at all. It's not like I think gay people be punished in the same way murderers are; it's God who views all sins as equal, not me. I don't think gay people should be treated like murderers or anything like that. It's God's job to judge them, not mine."

At this point, it has come to my immediate attention that I am being a dick—an arrogant, bigoted, convoluted dick :P  I basically attacked her for what she might have believed, and for some pretty extreme potential beliefs at that. She wasn't a Bible basher at all, yet I treated her like one all the same. Realising what I'd done:

"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that; it wasn't right——"

She then held her arms out, beckoning me towards her. I went to her, and she hugged me, tighter than she ever had before. I wrapped my arms around; I started to unwrap them about 10 seconds later, but she was still clinging on, so I stayed with her, still not aware of the full impact my actions were to have. It's a cruel irony that one of the closest moments we had came as a result of me being a dimwitted, overly-judgemental fucknugget. It frightens me to think that this event may have destroyed her feelings for me—it's not like I didn't deserve it, but it's still unnerving for me to think the only argument we had was this intense, and that from that point onwards, things weren't really the same. We never fought before this, about anything.

I mention this story because I know a lot of atheists and agnostics like to take the moral highroad and say 'we never try to force our beliefs on other people, unlike you religious bastards!' As my story demonstrates, this isn't true—it's all on the individual. I was the one being a bigoted cunt here, unlike the religious person, who had never tried to lay her beliefs on me a day in her life. Her parents had invited me to her Youth Group thing when we started dating, but that's as far as the word spread, so to speak.

Not too long after that, school finished, and she went on a trip to the United States to see relatives for about a month. She came over to my house once before she left, and we exchanged Christmas presents. She got me a Super Mario Chess Set—she evidently knows what I like, because that was awesome. I got her a necklace—I wanted to get her a copy of an anime film I'd heard about that was based off a series she liked, but couldn't find the damn thing anywhere :P  This, when I look back on it, makes it apparent to me that the relationship hadn't been too damaged by what I'd said. We kept in touch while she was over there over MSN, and nothing seemed awry. When she got back, however, she wasn't open to me at all. I knew it was over by the weekend, and the following Monday, I had to get someone else to give me the bad news because she wouldn't tell me. The best six months of my life ends here.

Months later, I was still trying to get over it. I'd left my friend group, going to the library at recess and lunch rather than outside to see them. Meanwhile, she started going out with a friend of mine; this I only found out about the day before our Year 12 Formal, so you can imagine how shitty I felt about that :P  Thing is, they split only two months after they'd started going out. I remember the day I saw 'Relationship Status: Single' printed on his Wall: I was fucking ecstatic. It was that simplistic, competitive animal inside of me looking at the numbers and gloating in his defeat. "I went out with her for longer than you, I did more stuff with her than you, I was closer to her than you; I win, you lose >:D". A dickish thing to think, most certainly; but when you're down, you'll look for anything to pick you up. From what I understood, she simply didn't like him as much anymore, and they'd been talked into it somewhat by friends, so it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Now skip ahead another six months to a random meetup with friends (little more than two weeks before the publishing of this entry). I'm well and truly past this shit now, and he and I are still friends—I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know I thought that way about him :P  The subject of their relationship was brought up (while he wasn't around, if I recall correctly) and it was mentioned that my ex's parents pressured her into leaving him because he wasn't Christian.

That fucked with my head, big time. My mindset instantly changed. Granted, I was no longer thinking "Haha, I'm better than you"—that mindset was limited to the night I'd seen the Facebook announcement—but my mind was now at the complete opposite end of the spectrum. Now, I felt enraged at the situation: he got royally fucked over. Shit, she got royally fucked over! He got judged prematurely by her fundamentalist, intolerant parents (who seemed to be fine with me, from my experience with them), and she got fucked out of making her own goddamned decisions. She was 18 by the time they'd started dating. She's an adult. She can think for herself. She decides who she does and doesn't go out with. This friend of mine isn't a drug dealer, nor a violent criminal, nor a rapist, nor a scumbag; he wouldn't do anything to hurt her; he's not a bad person. He did nothing to deserve the judgement he received.

And no, this isn't the chauvinist in me trying to step in and valiantly defend my fair lady; I'm not trying to win her back in any sense by appealing to some code of morality. The fact of the matter is that her fucking parents have no place deciding who their adult daughter does and doesn't go out with. There are only two prerequisites for a relationship here: Person A wants to go out with Person B, and Person B wants to go out with Person A. That's the end of the process. If she decides on her own that she doesn't want to go out with a man who isn't Christian, so be it. The point still stands: she goes out with whoever the fuck she wants to go out with. Shit, if I'm not right for her, can she at least be free to choose my fucking replacement?

It disgusts me that her parents have that much influence, that anyone has that much influence in deciding the outcome of a relationship other than the people involved. It's clear abuse of the "Honour thy Mother and Father" commandment; just because it's there doesn't mean parents have the right to be uptight, ignorant, judgemental cunts.

Because that's what this shit does to some people: it fucks their minds right up. It destroys their ability to think properly and actually deal with situations rationally; it permanently tarnishes their perspective on everything. Her parents may have disagreed with her choice to date an irreligious guy, and even expressed their opinions to her—that's their right as people—but I'll be damned if I'm going to think it appropriate for them to fucking interfere with her dating life. And I mean, this doesn't even affect me, yet I took it so personally when I heard about it because I probably fell victim to the same bullshit. I bet you anything that while she was in the U.S., her extended family advised her to leave me. I'd put my life on it. Whilst I had most certainly changed as a person, and become a lot less like the person she liked, the reasoning of 'I just don't find him fun to be around anymore' could have simply been a cover-up for the true reasoning. For now, however, I believe what I've been told—my ex has never been one to lie.

I'm evidently angry about this, which itself irritates me a little: this is all so minor in the grand scheme of things, yet I feel so strongly about it. I don't think ill of my ex for any of this at all; as I've said, she was just as much a victim of her parent's ignorance as my friend was, and as I may have been. It's all in the past, and it's just one small part of my life; but it's still someone's feelings they were toying with, and, at least in my friend's case, what was done was revolting. Being dumped is hard enough as it is, but if it was her decision, I'd have no reason to feel angry. Being dumped with reasoning this poor, on the other hand, is just fucking cruel.

This is when I begin to hate religious people: when the exercise control over their subjects for the sake of their own hate. It's ignorant meddling, and those who meddle ignorantly should be treated like the unenlightened knobs that they are. I learned from my mistake when I called my ex a homophobe, and I apologised for my intolerance because I knew what I did was very wrong and hurtful. She deserved absolutely none of the hate that came out of my mouth, not a fucking word of it. The more fundamentalist religious folk, however, preach till they die, and never realise how ignorant they or their words are, even when they're presented with the evidence.

This brings me to the pamphlet. I scanned it with a magic scanning machine to show it to you:

This is the front cover. Not much to say about it—standard fundie-Christian fare. Now, what is Jesus Christ my answer to? Did I ask these people a fucking question? If I'd asked "What's the name of the man who Christians believe died for their sins 2,000 years ago?", then yeah, Jesus Christ would be my answer. But I didn't ask that question. I didn't ask these people any goddamned questions. Is this Jeopardy by mail-order? Do they send me the answer so I can send them the question?

You see, I was under the impression that Christians thought accepting Jesus into your life was the solution to the problem of sin, not the answer to a fucking question. Devalues the guy a tad, don'tcha think? They evidently respect Him about as much as they do the language.

Also, gotta love the choice of red as the highlighting colour—you know, the same colour as the Devil, hellfire, blood, anger, lust, rage, and evil. Well, at least it's honest!

The first page—where the madness really begins. Now, firstly, why bother quoting the Bible to try and convince me that God is real and that Jesus died for my supposed sins? I believe the Bible was thought up by men thousands of years ago with the intent of tricking people into following their bigoted command from beyond the grave—the point's fucking moot because the book has no credibility to me.

Next up, the classic "Here's how it is, folks!"—making statements and assertions without a shred of fucking evidence to back your point up. God made us, did he? Prove it. You can't? Then stop talking.

Also sick of this "We are sinners by default" nonsense. Really? So, even foetuses are sinners? The fuck did a foetus do to you? To anyone? Yeah, it might have given its mother morning sickness and a bit of swelling, but was that its fault? Why are we sinners right off the bat? And, if we're below God's standards by His design, why the hell are we expected to meet His standards in the first place? Is He incapable of lowering His standards, or producing us to a better standard? To quote Lenny Bruce:

"If God created the body, and the body is dirty, the fault lies with the manufacturer."

Just replace 'dirty' with 'sinful', and there goes your point.

Then we get to the diagram. God likes His metaphors, and He likes them blunt. And stupid.

First off, since when did God live in a forest next to a cliff? Is that Heaven? That's a shithouse Heaven, man. God can do better than that. Where are the fluffy clouds? And the golden harps? And the pearly gates? There aren't any fucking gates, not even a fence or a roof! Shit, you could fly a plane over the top, jump out, and land in this Heaven! What kind of Heaven can be broken into via parachute!? Total fail.

Also love the bridges we've apparently been trying to build. Let's get one thing straight across the board: this diagram assumes we do all these things to reach the Abrahamic God. This assumes He is there to be reached; this alone could be false. In reality, these things may be practised without the intent of reaching God (with the exception of non-Abrahamic religions). In reality, these things are usually practised to either advanced society or because it's seen as the right thing to do. Must have been hard for them to type this with their heads stuck so far up their arses.

Morality: wait, what? Morality isn't a good way to reach God? Doing things you believe to be right and acting in a morally righteous manner to people doesn't mean anything to Him? Well, I suppose you could look at the way some fundamentalist Christians act and talk sometimes, and agree with that one :P  But... isn't there a Christian morality? What about that morality? That one sucks too? Damn, I guess all moralities must be awful. Well, at least I'll have no need to think of other people when I act now that I'm saved!

Religion: Wow. Just wow. I can't even begin to process the amount of irony they managed to cram into the presence of that one word. Let's get this straight, shall we? Oxford Dictionary defines religion as: 

the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, especially a personal God or gods

Does Christianity involve belief in and the worship of a personal God? Why, yes, it does! Therefore, Christianity is a religion; and, according to this diagram, religion doesn't let us get to God. We're not even two thirds down the first page, and they've already gone and completely fucked their argument. But, for the sake of humour, let us continue.

I'm sick of these faggots who try to separate their own religion from all the others by not classifying it as religion. The dictionary and the nature of context makes you incorrect. Even if your religion is correct, it is still a religion. Please get over yourselves. I'm pretty sure arrogance of that calibre is frowned upon by your God.

Good Deeds: see Morality (note to author: they're practically synonyms, for fuck's sake >.< ).

Philosophy: hahahahaha—oh, you're serious. Let me, a Philosophy student, school you. A key area of Philosophy is the concept of logic (the study of correct reasoning). Part of logic is mathematical logic (logic involving mathematical symbols). Without this, they wouldn't have the computer they typed this on, nor the printer they printed it with, nor the resilient architecture of the churches they worship in. Then there's the linguistic element of philosophy, without which they wouldn't have the ability to communicate with their computer nor their fellow Christians. That's not to mention the impossibility of such texts as the Bible, which I gathered was their lovechild from all the quoting they've been doing. This is, of course, ignoring the fact that there have been, and are, devout Christian philosophers—Immanuel Kant is a fantastic example. Way to insult one's own kind.

And all this has been done without success? Well, what does one do when they try something, wishing to succeed, but fails in the process? They try again. People will continue to attempt advancing society via these means forever, Bible or no Bible, God or no God. One day, we might find the key answer people have been searching for, whatever it is, if there is one—it may or may not lie in the hands of God.

Oh, but look! Apparently, we can build a bridge—with a novelty-sized cross. The symbolism hits deep, doesn't it. Also love that it's not Sinful People, it's just Sinful Man. Chicks must get a free pass—can't say Christianity beats down on women's rights now, can you, ladies?

OK, first off, the bridge itself is impassable. I can get about 40% of the way over the bridge, then I run into the tip of the cross. Meanwhile, those amoral, Jesus-reject plane-flying motherfuckers can still get in without a problem. Is there a ladder? A lift? Suction cups or something? Same goes for getting down the other side—do we abseil down? Is there a water slide? A slippery dip? I ain't never seen no cross with a goddamned slippery dip. That's because there is no slippery dip. That's because you don't build bridges out of crosses. And anyway, how wide was the cross that Christ was crucified on? Stretch your arms out as wide as you can—there's your answer. That's hardly a large gap. People can't jump that? Or find a plank of wood that long somewhere? Just take a plank off the actual cross! Damn, the security in this place is worse than at APEC '07. 

I also see more Bible quotes; these I shall explore for you. Gotta love the claim that sinners are all wicked, greedy, depraved, envious, murdering, disobedient, lying, malicious, gossiping, slandering, God hating, insolent, arrogant, boastful inventors of evil operandi. Wow! That's not not a wicked, depraved, malicious, slanderous, arrogant, boastful thing to say at all! Then, the next quote says "no one can boast about [having faith]." Yeah, ragging on those you want to save, not boastful in any way. Implicit braggin' is still braggin'. Any author of scripture, God or otherwise, knows that if you're gonna contradict yourself, you have to do it on different pages.

God demonstrates his love for us by having Christ die for us? No—God demonstrated his love for us by having Christ die for us. Get your tense straight, yeesh (waits for someone to find a temporal error in this entry :P).

And Jesus answered what, exactly? More fucking questions I didn't ask! Is there a question in the previous quote? That's not a question; that's a statement, an assertion, a proposition. This stuff really isn't hard to grasp—there are kindergarteners more linguistically enlightened than these pricks.

Back cover. I can choose to cross—I see what you did there! Credit where credit's due; that was a good one.

...wait... I can choose to cross? I cannot build the bridge? What must I do? Like, the author's referring to themselves in the first person? What? Well, if it's what they must do, why the hell are they sending it to me! They should send it to themselves!

"...repent then, and turn to God"... no, you turn to God first, then you repent! Who are you repenting to if not to God? The atmosphere? Don't you know it's polite to look at someone when you talk to them?

And why does this pamphlet feel the need to tell me what Heaven and Hell is? I live in a country where 66% of the population aligns themselves with some form of Christianity, and we get most of our media from a country where 80% does the same. I know this shit, man! I don't live under a rock—and if I did, I'd make damn sure I didn't have a mailbox so I didn't find crap like this in there when I got home.

I also need to mention, just in case anyone is unaware, that the whole CAPS LOCK IS CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOL thing is actually sarcasm. These people must have thought it was serious. We learned types have a pretty dry sense of humour at times, don't we ;)

And what's this about helping me grow? What man doesn't know how to grow? Every man knows what turns him on; we can take care of this ourselves, thank you very much. Or did they mean grow taller? God's not gonna help kids grow taller. Kids grow taller until they hit their 20s, then they stagnate, then they start shrinking at 50. God's not gonna interfere with that process. Don't give kids false hope like that—every kid wants to be tall. Hey, at least they know what the kids want, right? They're all kinds of hip, and they're most certainly down with it, if I may say so myself.

I laughed when I saw it was from a Korean church. Living in Australia and seeing that was just funny for me; I don't really know why. If Australian Koreans wanna practise Christianity, that's cool, go right ahead; just do a better job of proselytising next time. Throw some evidence in the mix! It helps :)  Koreans practising a Middle Eastern religion in black man's country that was taken over by white Europeans—multiculturalism at work, 'eh?

Getting to the point: my main problem with this garbage is that it doesn't tell me a damn thing. I know Christians believe I'm a sinner and that I need to accept God and Jesus to be saved; what new information does this pamphlet present to me? None. No presented evidence, no compelling argument, nothing of any value; just drivel that I've heard a million times over. It's sad to think these people are under the impression that they're saved—if God is real, and He lets people this stupid in to Heaven... fuck it, leave me out. The Devil might be a cunt, but if he shares a flat with Christopher Hitchens, Charles Darwin, Mahatma Ghandi, Frank Zappa, and the aforementioned comedians, I think I'll crash with them, rather than these silly bastards who think they're headed to a magical forest upon death.

Image: I Have Lots of Problems Too. I'm Just Like You... Except I'm Not.

Not too long ago, I realised I'd answered a question of mine, a question I'd asked myself ages ago. How ever long ago it was, I looked at all the things that I don't like about myself, the things that are 'wrong' with me—the way I eat, my difficulty in dealing with social situations and change in life, my discomfort around trying new things, the list goes on—and I wondered if there was a central issue surrounding it all. I thought "well, if there's a central problem inherent in all these smaller issues, then I only have one problem to solve, and it'll be my first step to making my life a whole lot better". Oblivious to my discovery, I summed it up in an earlier entry with these words:

The fact of the matter is: I'm not willing to take risks anymore. I don't want to talk to this girl for fear of embarrassment and rejection; I don't want to ask anyone to let me perform comedy for fear of social contact and disturbing the status quo (in terms of scheduling: you have no idea how much I hate interrupting people—I don't even make phone calls on that basis :P); I don't want to drive a car for fear of a collision; I don't want to drink or consume any party drug for fear of loss of self awareness and control, possible arrest and almost certain bodily harm. I'm simply no longer in favour of putting myself in any position where there's anything substantial to lose anymore.

So, the central issue appears to be fear of a negative outcome. Problem is, I've conquered the problem before, and several occasions on which I did so follow that quotation. I used to be able to deal with that problem; the issue now is that I don't have the self-respect or self-worth to justify doing such things.

Speaking of recent discoveries, I found out a day or two ago that a friend of mine made her blog public again. Turns out she's been reading mine, and she wrote a few entries on topics I spoke about. Some might be pissed off were their friends to read their blogs, but I'm actually quite happy she's reading it. Obviously, I'm pleased someone's reading it at all, that's nice on its own; but it's also good to know that there's someone out there, incidentally someone I know, who I can kinda talk to about things without actually talking to them. One might think "why not just fucking talk to her about the stuff directly?"... I dunno. I feel uncomfortable talking to anyone about these issues because I always feel like I'm being a nuisance. At the same time, if someone needed to talk to me about something, I'd try to help them, and in reality, my friends would do the same for me, so thinking I'd irritate others if I did so is a little ridiculous :P  Even with that said, however, I still don't like to do it, so I keep to myself.

Anyway, this friend is currently trying to lose some weight. That's all well and good, and she seems to be managing it quite well (from what little I've read, anyway), but she keeps calling herself 'fat' and describing her body as if it's some kind of blob with a head on top. I don't see that. I will admit, there's meat on her bones, but I thought that was fucking normal :P  I just cannot see a problem with her size or her figure. Granted, this is coming from the same person who was attracted to her seven months ago, but even though all that sexual tension is gone, that doesn't change my opinion. Thankfully, she realises that the negativity is simply a state of mind, and she tries to counter this mindset.

Thing is, there are heaps of things I could say about myself that would paint an equally negative picture. Friend of mine thinks she's ugly? Bullshit; I'm ugly. Face is alright, but my teeth are all out of whack (sucked my thumb as a kid, hated wearing the corrective gear to fix the problem :P). My hands and wrists remind me of Mr. Burns; I have no muscle whatsoever; and my legs are like those you'd find on starving African children. That's all due to my diet, which is abhorrent and will probably lead to my death at 30-something. I don't have the determination to change that, nor even the will to try any new food. That begs the question: why bother asking a woman on a date? I'm going to eventually have to make it clear that I don't eat like everyone else, which will probably be a huge turn off. There goes any hope of dinner at a restaurant, lunch with friends for introductions, dinner with the parents: that's all instantaneously fucked as soon as the declaration is made. That, coupled with the shallow exterior and opinionated interior, makes for a shitty boyfriend :P

This is all assuming, of course, that I'd ever have the guts to talk to a woman, but why do that when rejection is more-or-less guaranteed not far down the road, if not on the spot? Where am I even going to meet one? I have no social life whatsoever. All the friends I have are from my old school, and I'm hardly ever in contact with them. I really only ever start chatting to two of my friends; a few others occasionally say 'Hi', but it's mainly the same two people, and it's not all that often. I have nothing interesting to talk about, so why bother? I never go anywhere either—no parties, no outings, nothing other than the occasional movie. Where else is there to go, anyway? I don't drink, so why go out to clubs and bars? I'd be wasting my fucking time, not to mention putting me in that atmosphere is the quickest way to make me bored and uncomfortable. Most times I've been with people who are drinking, it ends up sucking major balls. Unfortunately, that's where you meet people these days, so no progress can be made on any front.

It all comes down to perspective: my friend sometimes thinks she's fat, and this can lead her to believe she is viewed as unattractive. I've never believed she's fat, but her self-image is a lot closer to her than my image of her, as would be the case for most people. Likewise, my other friend tried to imply that I wasn't the arsehole I was making myself out to be. I disagreed because I felt more strongly about what I'd done then he did. It's like we don't want to get our hopes up for something that won't happen, at least when we're in this state. This has been getting worse for me, though. I've spent a few mornings lately lying in bed practically bashing myself up in my own head, thinking about this stuff and basically not seeing the point in even getting up. Once I make all the inferences from the data, there ceases to be a point in doing anything, so why get out of bed?

I wish I could just ditch all social desires, friendwise, romance wise, all of it. It's only when I think of those things that I look at myself this way. When I'm preoccupied doing something else, this shit almost never happens. When I'm writing a monologue, a script, a poem, or a story, or when I'm working on a bigger video project, or playing a game, or watching YouTube, I'm focused on everything else. I don't think about other people, only myself. It's indulgent and selfish but it fucking works. All I get then are challenges and ideas: things to beat and ways to beat them. Good ol' problem solving FTW :P

There are heaps of things I seriously want to do, but don't, and even when merely thinking about doing them, it's better than thinking of my social life. I wanna get on stage every week at uni and rant about whatever comes to my mind. I wanna join an improv troupe somewhere and learn how to think on my feet a little better. I wanna write satirical articles for some newspaper and get under people's skin. I wanna take my Nintendo 64 to the mall and play Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros. with complete strangers. I wanna wear a Klu Klux Klan outfit in public and hold up a sign that says "FREE HUGS (COLOUR DOESN'T MATTER)" on one side, and "NEW KKK: MORE ROBES, LESS RACISM!" on the other; then, when I get arrested, I can ask why I'm being judged on what I'm wearing rather than what I'm doing. I wanna go into a high school pretending to be a Department of Education representative to tell the kids on their assembly that school uniform is a psychological control mechanism. I wanna learn martial arts from Jackie Chan, then crash through the roof of Parliament House and beat the shit out of everyone in that motherfucker. I wanna go to an anti-LGBT rally and hold up a sign saying "HOMOPHOBES ARE THE REAL FAGGOTS". I wanna intercept the O'Reilly Factor broadcast on Fox and play 'Wake Up' by Rage Against the Machine instead. I wanna break into a bank and modify the code in the system such that all the bank fees and loan interest go straight to charity (and a little to my own account, for my services :D).

All those things I can do without worrying about friends or food (except the Jackie Chan one... that one's a little outta reach :P).

Most of all, though, I want to be with someone, and love someone. I don't know why, but the urge is always there, and it grows every day. I feel like I've devolved, like I'm back to being a 16 year old boy, simply wondering what it's like to be with someone, how it feels; I just don't know anymore. That's half the fucking problem: I've been there. I've actually been there. I don't just want it; I want it back. I want to explore another relationship. I want to feel for someone so strongly that I can't hold my feelings back anymore. I wanna hold her hands and get lost in her eyes as she looks down in shyness and giggles. I wanna know what it's like to wait for a text I'm expecting from her. I wanna have that one in-joke that only we understand. I wanna watch TV with her and berate whatever shit they've put on. I want her to run up to me from behind and cuddle me, the warmth from her body filling my own. I wanna walk home with her in the rain. I wanna make her feel better when she cries. I wanna have arguments with her just so we can come out stronger and hug tightly when we make up. I wanna see her close her eyes in ecstasy as I feel her up under her shirt. I wanna kiss her all over her naked body before she pushes me onto the bed and steals my idea. I wanna make love with her at her old high school... during school hours, for that extra thrill :P  I wanna be told what turns her on so she can lure me into her fantasy.

I wanna feel so much for her that I can't help but tell her I love her.

That desire always comes back; it never goes away. Problem is, shit that perfect is, like, unattainable, especially with all my flaws :P  It's awesome to write about and fantasise about, sure, but is it gonna actually happen? The image isn't quite that strong :P

I still feel like that little 16 year old boy, but now I'm in the adult's world. I still have that teen angst, I still have that teen curiosity; I even look the fucking part :P  That's even why I don't perform comedy at uni: are a bunch of young adults gonna take some fresh-outta-high-school fucknugget like me seriously? Are they gonna think I can actually humour them? That sounds intimidating. I mean, I've performed in front of adult audiences, and I've performed once in a really adult environment (which was the most fucking fun ever :P), but there's an eerie 'you don't belong there' vibe I get, being the presumptuous cunt I am.

I don't know if a woman will really ever see anything in me, nor do I really think I can do much to make one happy. I don't even really know what love is or what it feels like, not in the romantic sense—I haven't experienced it enough to get any strong grasp. I assume I'll know when I feel it, but I don't know. All I really know is that, with all that's been said and all the conflicting emotion, I still want to find someone I can be with.

Even if it's only for a little while.

Questions: Should I Be Asking Them?

Tuesday again—my favourite day of the week by far. I had an editing exam which I thought I'd go well in, but I could have gone a lot better. That took my confidence down more than a notch, but I'm certain that I passed, so I'm not too worried. Besides, the tutorial's where the fun's at... somewhat.

The start was simply epic. Earlier in the session, we had to submit pieces of prose to be edited by the class in a workshop kind of fashion—mine was first up. Being a comedian, I obviously submitted something I thought would get lulz, and I've wanted to know all term how it goes with regards to evoking said lulz. I had two distinct images in my head:

1. People begin to read, and as the reading goes on, laughter is scattered across the room, people giggle every now and then.
2. People begin to read, and they read in dead silence, not a noise is heard, not a smirk is seen.

Thankfully, I got the first one: many lulz were had ^_^  I haven't had that feeling of comic success for so long that I began to shake. I love that feeling. Some people wanted to see it performed, saying it'd work well on stage (its initial form), so I now have five minutes of material I know works. That's valuable—if I ever perform this, I know I'll succeed to at least some degree, making it good for a comedy competition or some other performance scenario where experimentation is dangerous and could lead to utter failure.

As for that girl who sits across the room goes... not so good.

I wanted to see how much she was laughing (if at all), but didn't glance over, nor did I get too much feedback from her—not a good sign. She wasn't smiling much today either. That's the most beautiful thing any woman can do: be happy and show it. I know people aren't happy all the time, but she was happier last week, at least a little bit. I wanted to see her smile so bad, but I never did. I guess I could be looking at that in relation to my piece, thinking that it failed to make her smile, but I don't know if that's true or not. I just want to see her smile, to see her happy.

Her default face is kind of like my default face: it leans more towards 'apathetic' than 'content' or even 'neutral'. She seems a little apathetic overall, which turns me off a little—my previous girlfriend's apathy was part of what led to her shitty handling of the break-up. I know she can be interested in things; I've seen it. When she's interested, she gets involved, she gets excited—perhaps she's bi-polar? I know I am :P

I'm having second thoughts. I guess it's better to have those now than anywhere else down the track, but seeing her cheered me up heaps last week—what happened? Is it that I want to make her happy myself, or just that I want her to be happy? What does that even mean? Am I faking concern just to prolong some pseudo-attraction, or am I genuinely unhappy because I didn't see her smile? I know seeing her smile makes me happy, that's definitely true... is the inverse true? Is that a prerequisite for attraction? I mean, today, her legs were exposed, her attire differing from the usual long pants or stockings she wears—to me, that's fucking awesome on a physical level, but in my mind, the lack of smile takes precedent. Is that a sign of something more? I don't know.

I have one more week where I'm guaranteed to see her, then a super-long break (seven weeks... holy crap :P). I highly doubt I'm gonna talk to her next week, so I suppose I'll just have to wait and see how I feel after the break.

Well, if I'm still going to uni... which I might not be, if I absolutely fail... ah well, there's always stalking :P

Cool: That Which I Am Not

At least I know that even motherfuckers as legendary as Pryor had problems similar to mine :P

I'm getting a little worried... I've only just come to the realisation that there are only two weeks left in the semester. After that, all my classes change (provided I'm not kicked out or something :P). My classes change, my classmates change. To put it bluntly, I only have two weeks left where I have any solid chance of seeing her in class again. I know we do the same course and hence will definitely share lectures, but tutorials are far smaller and my chances of scoring one with her aren't in my favour—besides, I can't hear her voice or see her smile in lectures, at least not without giving myself away :P

The answer seems simple, right?

Talk to her.
Get to know her.
Befriend her.
From there, it's easy.

That might be simple for you, but it's not for me :P  I just suck at meeting people—I don't go anywhere or do anything (uni for me consists of class and existing friends :P), I'm extremely hesitant to talk to anyone I haven't spoken to before, and I have no confidence whatsoever. I am socially deficient; I haven't had the experiences others have had in the field. I was walking around uni with a friend of mine today—he bumped into at least six or seven people he knew, starting conversations with each one while I stood there like a jackass unable to speak :P  I can't talk to strangers, not without a damned good reason.

But, surely, wanting to get to know someone I'm interested in is good reason, right? Not really :P

Forget social justification, or even emotional justification; I need logical justification. There must exist a need to talk to someone for a reason they won't think of as suspicious in any regard. It was easy to talk to my previous girlfriend because we were in the same friend group—that made it really easy for me to get to know her. Here, however, I've got no connections whatsoever, at least none I'm aware of. If I can fucking find one, I can worm my way in and be done with this bullshit; going up to her alone, on the other hand, is suicide. Think about it: what would you think if some random guy you know from one of your classes, who's never spoken to you nor been encountered outside of class, came up and said 'Hi!', or 'How are you?', or 'What's up?', or anything else? To me, no matter the person, they're just gonna think '...what the fuck's up with this guy? Who is he and why is he talking to me? Creepy! ' Bad fucking vibe :P

I need an excuse to talk to her, something validated by external forces. I need to legitimately accidentally bump into her and make her drop her stuff. I need her to forget her pen and have to ask me for one. I need to do some group assignment with her. I need a friend of hers to know a friend of mine to make for a nice, clean introduction. I need some goddamned help here! Help the noob! :P

I think I mentioned in one of my earlier entries that 'the prescription on my balls had run out', comparing my current level of courage to that of two years ago when I asked a girl out who I'd never really spoken to. This is still true, most certainly, but I think we can all agree that asking this new girl out when I haven't talked to her isn't the best way to go about this :P  I could, if I really put myself on the spot and said 'fuck it, it's all or nothing!', but that tact is sure to get me little more than a goofy look and a rather quick rejection.

I wouldn't really care about this all that much, but these feelings seem to have intensified significantly since Tuesday. I didn't think about her too much when not sharing that class, not until now. I can't be sure if I'm simply clinging onto whatever I can find again, perhaps getting overzealous and liking someone simply for the sake of liking someone. I'm well aware that one's perception of any issue can be heavily altered by external factors—but there are things I really like about this girl, attractions I can understand, simple as they may be. I could look at her for hours, that's a given; and what little I've seen of her personality and psyche I adore and want to see more of. It's gotten to the stage where I'm like 'That's what attraction is, right? That's how it's supposed to work, yeah?' It's been that long :P

I think my libido's getting impatient, too. Sex has been on the brain for a while—it's something I really want to experience, and soon. I'm repeatedly comparing myself to those around me, always looking around at uni and going '...he's fucked... he's fucked... she's fucked... he's probably fucked... you know they're fucking... he's fucked... she's probably fucked... she's fucked...' I don't know if I'd feel more comfortable or more freaked out if I knew anyone else who did that :P  I've dreamed of having sex and making love that many fucking times that I just want to do it. I've repeatedly told myself that 'I'll wait until I can do it with someone I have feelings for, to make it memorable and to ensure more comfort and security'. I know all the while, however, that I could easily go to a party, find a slut with low standards, and fuck her brains out; or, if I was prepared to shell out a bit, go to a brothel and pay for my coming of age. I don't want to, though. I want my first experience to be that of making love, not just having sex.

With that term, 'making love', I used to think it was purely a euphemism employed to allow the discussion of sex in more conservative contexts without offending the easily offended. I've come to different terms since all those months ago when I wanted to lose my virginity at my Formal's after-party. I don't know if other people think this way—maybe this is just another instance of me falling behind in the social arena :P—but to me, making love is having sex because of love. In my head, there's a big difference in me having sex with a woman and me making love with a woman. All you've gotta do to have sex is stimulate the sexual organs with the intent of reaching orgasm, usually through the insertion of a phallus into an orifice. Sure, you can have accompanying kissing/hugging/foreplay/whatever else, but the reasoning behind that is more physical than emotional. Making love is more of a full on process, at least from what I like to envision. There's a distinct look on the face, controlled movements of the body to ensure mutual pleasure, and a force behind it all that pushes both parties closer and closer to one another the entire way through. It's something I've never seen recreated well on a screen—and besides, the images in my head were developed by me for me, so they're gonna have more impact anyhow :P

That's how I wanna lose my virginity: through that act and that act alone. My pleasure in fantasising always stems off the pleasure I see through the woman's expressions, and that's what I want to experience: a mutual feeling where I want to be with a woman to the point where I become as close as I can possibly be with her. The problem is, that will only come from a steady relationship.

Even though I speak commonly on my lack of self confidence and disbelief in what's mentioned above from having any real place in reality, I still want it, and I want it more every day, even if it's by just a little bit. It's not like I'm gonna rape someone if I don't get pussy soon—I mean, couldn't rape a six year old if I tried (I'd say something like 'and believe me, I have!' ... but no one believes me). The urge, however, will always be there. My physical feelings for this girl explored in this way give me a little incentive to try and talk to her, but not much. Her pussy can't talk anyway; her mind can, but I'm yet to meet it. I want to meet it, but I just don't have it in me to go through with it on my own. At the same time, however, I don't want to just wait and hope for a miracle, because that's probably not going to happen.

...how do I relationship :P

Beauty: In Language and People

I went to bed at 11 pm last night; I wasn't asleep until sometime past 3am the next morning.
I woke up with 10 minutes to get ready; it took me 15.
I got to my editing lecture 10 minutes late.

But goddamn, I'm happy right now.

Editing class does that to me. If the language is drugs, grammar is my crack cocaine: pure and dangerous. I mean, it's the only class where I really know what I'm doing. It's not like I'm not learning anything—if anything, I learn more and more each week—but it's the only class where I sit down and know I'm gonna kick ass in at least some respect. Substantive editing (editing for tone, consistency, redundancies, point of view, etc.) isn't the easiest and I'm only just picking it up, but there's a real buzz out of picking up someone's work and ripping it to pieces, suggesting better ways to say things, questioning all the ambiguities—brings out the superiority complex in everyone :P  Line-by-line editing (accidental narcotics pun FTW :D), however, is my favourite: droppin' punctuation like a boss, correcting the typos even Word would miss... fucking fun ^_^

I somehow managed to get into a little discussion with the teacher on whether the word 'over' in the title One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest was a preposition. Without really realising it, I'd come to a stronger conclusion than she had, being correct in stating that it was indeed a preposition rather than an adverb (as had been contested). She then complimented me on my grammatical ability in general—to quote NintendoCapriSun: so happy! It's just good to know the work I've put in to my technical writing skills over the years has paid off. On one hand, it's probably a little ridiculous that such a small compliment can make me feel so proud; but I know when I've earned my keep, and this is one keep I have fucking earned. 1 smiley approved for display :)

On the other hand... don't call my grammar good when there's a woman I'm interested in sitting across from me! You trollin'? Don't fucking troll me now, not with this! I already have next to no chance—are you gonna rob a poor man? The only thing I like more than that class is her... and she's in that class... so, not only am I doing lines, but I've also got a needle sticking out my arm! It doesn't matter what she wears, how she does her hair, who she's with, her mood that day... she's beautiful. Every class with her sees my urge to talk to her grow—and that's seriously the only thing I wanna do with her right now! Well... not the only thing, but the first thing, most certainly! I keep saying to myself 'Goddamn it, seriously, I would kill people just to talk to her. I'd slaughter half the fucking room just to get so much as a five minute conversation! I'll go Virginia Tech level if I have to—I don't care!' ...what the fuck am I talking about? I'll commit academic genocide, but won't go up to a girl I'm interested in and say 'Hi!'? These drugs are fucking my sense of logic right up :P

What's unusual is that I don't want to look at her. I actively prevent myself from doing that. The urge to ogle was stronger today than it has been for the past few weeks... it's getting harder and harder to not look :P  It's that thing where you want to look at someone, so you do, and then they look at you perchance, and you instantaneously look away thinking you've gotten away with it... then you go right back to looking at the person, they look at you again perchance, and you look away again—as if that trick's gonna work twice :P  She makes me forget all the shortcomings I usually think of when dreaming of women in solitude. I'm not even in the picture—it's just her. I don't know if that's love, and the label doesn't matter to me: all that matters is that I'm happy when I see her. Maybe I'll talk to her, maybe not—I really want to—but for now, I just like seeing her. I'll take what happiness I can get right now: if seeing her makes me happy, so be it. They're not dirty thoughts, nor intrusive, confusing, ambiguous, hurtful: just beautiful. Like her innocent smile... and the eyes that pop out of her head... and her curly hair... and her skin...

Beautiful like her :)

Tenacity: A Cunt in all its Forms

As you'll soon see, if I could start this one off with a relevant quotation, you wouldn't be here :P

It's 1:49 in the morning. Uni starts at 8:30 for me tomorrow. I should be asleep, or at least in bed trying to sleep. Insomnia's been a problem for me lately, oftentimes gatecrashing at around midnight and insisting I carry on playing Tetris, persist in listening to sceptics of religion, and write things like this when I should be tucked in. I've grown to hate this and have made considerable efforts to get back in line—it was fine when I didn't have a schedule to adhere to, but now I do, so it just serves to fuck me up and leave me without energy at a time when attentiveness is everything. I woke up later than usual yesterday morning which certainly isn't helping, but that's not why I'm up.

Fuck, make that 2:12 in the morning :P

Go back a couple of hours: I'm on YouTube, as per usual, when I get an email from Facebook: an invitation to an event of some kind. I'm not invited to events very often, nor do I know of any upcoming event I'd expect to receive an invite to, so I'm curious as to what it is. Upon taking a glance, I gather its a petition for some kind of music thingy, the invitation sent by one of the more musical people on my friends list. I start reading through it, and do a little research on the subject matter. Turns out there's a budget deficit issue at another uni that's lead them to plan to axe half the music staff, as to get the facility back in the black so to speak (a conclusion I'd more or less come to when I'd finished reading the text in the Facebook event: university's a business first and an educational facility second :P).

Didn't take long for me to process this: the students who applied for any qualifications stemming from participation in the music programs did so on what was advertised to them. What was advertised to them was, among other things, access to a comprehensive musical program led by all the staff that worked there, not just the half that'll keep their jobs if this goes ahead. That's retroactive false advertising, plain and simple. +1 signature for your petition. Thing was, the person who invited me still went to high school... so whose petition was it?

Then I saw the name up the top, having missed it when I first arrived at the page: Sally.

For some reason, as soon as I saw that name, I started to feel weird. I can't explain what it was, but I soon became restless and had to get out of my chair. I wasn't in some kind of uncontrollable fit, but I was certainly irritable. I was shaking a little too, pacing around my room, murmuring incoherently every now and then. After a good ten-to-fifteen minutes of that, I sat on my bed and just silently pondered the clusterfuck that was my brain at that point. I didn't understand what was going on. At some point during all this, as if in disbelief, I walked over to the computer and hovered over her name: up popped the little box with her picture. I'd done little more than see her name and her face, and my mind had gone into an infinite regression, my chest felt heavy and tense, and I was shaking—it may have only been mild, but it was still involuntary.

What the fuck happened?

Seriously, what was that? I want to know! It's not like this person's fucking traumatised me; she's just some girl I liked years ago, who I also happened to want to date and sleep with at my Year 12 Formal. This wasn't a repeat of such desire; it was anything but feelings of desire. It was just awkward, tense and uncomfortable, perhaps anxiety, leaving me unable to concentrate on anything else for a good fifteen to twenty minutes. I haven't been feeling the best lately (evident in the last two entries), but this wasn't depression; it was just strange, something I haven't really felt before, something I'd rather not feel again.

We have thoughts, but thoughts are fluid. Then we assign a word to a thought... and we're stuck with that word for that thought...

George Carlin

Replace 'word' with 'symbol', and that's my belief in terms of how we understand thought. I could be way off base, but that's what I think for the meantime: we understand thoughts by assigning symbols to them that we can relate to. In this case, I have no symbol to which I can relate almost anything that went through my head—no word, no phrase, no clause, no sentence, no paragraph, no picture, no video, no sound, no song, nothing. What did come back were simply the two most recent images I have of her: seeing her at the Formal after-party, the last time I would see her. Both images were mentioned in an article I published recently discussing those events and my previous writing on them.

One is of the very last time I saw her in the flesh:

[Right before I went home], I looked over one last time at the tent area to see Sally and her friends sitting around. Still, there was no smile.

The other, far stronger, is of the last time I spoke to her:

I returned to the camp-fire to see Sally still warming herself. I took the (only) spare seat next to her, and looked at her. She looked down... really down...

"Hello, Sally. How are you?"

"I'm alright... how are you?"

"I'm OK... ... ...you don't look like you're having very much fun."

"That's because I'm not."

Even though I want to remember her as the happy, kind-hearted girl I had feelings for all those years ago, the last time I saw her didn't capture any such emotion. Even her profile picture didn't deliver a look much different to the one I remember—it's honestly a stupid question, but I've even wondered if she's smiled at all since I last saw her. Any time I think of her (which, contrary to what this article may suggest, is far from often), those are the two images that usually end up dominating my memory. I don't want to remember her in that more positive way to instil feelings for her. If anything, I want to avoid having feelings for her—it's fucking moronic to think we could ever be something. We aren't even acquaintances, let alone friends; we have nothing in common with each other; we live in totally different places and do totally different things; we are incompatible. Granted, I can assert that these feelings aren't ones of love nor lust, but that doesn't mean I know what they actually are. 

I've heard things recently about people having feelings for others far beyond rejection, long after they've supposed to have moved on—I really, really don't want that. I have better things to do than ponder over a future I can guarantee won't come to light, and she has better shit to do than hear about me ever again (like, I don't know... worrying about her education :P). If I'm going to remember her at all, however that remembrance be inspired, I want it to be at least somewhat positive, not me having a mini-freakout over such nothingness as seeing her name :P 

I don't know why it hurts, and being a male (hence thinking everything's a competition :P), I want to know what's going on, to crush ignorance and misunderstanding under my foot and claim victory through knowledge and comprehension. Falling short of that, I'd just like it to stop and not happen again. Perhaps these feelings do mean something, and I don't want to block any emotion just because it makes me feel uncomfortable, but I hate feeling like shit for no reason.

3:31... sigh :P

Inadequacy: Seemingly Preferable to Intervention

WARNING GUARANTEE: This album contains material which a truly free society would neither fear nor suppress. In some socially retarded areas, religious fanatics and ultra-conservative political organizations violate your First Amendment Rights by attempting to censor rock & roll albums. We feel that this is un-Constitutional and un-American. As an alternative to these government-supported programs (designed to keep you docile and ignorant), Barking Pumpkin is pleased to provide stimulating digital audio entertainment for those of you who have outgrown the ordinary. The language and concepts contained herein are GUARANTEED NOT TO CAUSE ETERNAL TORMENT IN THE PLACE WHERE THE GUY WITH THE HORNS AND POINTED STICK CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS. This guarantee is as real as the threats of the video fundamentalists who use attacks on rock music in their attempt to transform America into a nation of check-mailing nincompoops (in the name of Jesus Christ). If there is a hell, its fires wait for them, not us.

'Warning' found on the inner sleeve of Frank Zappa Meets The Mothers of Prevention, by Frank Zappa

Reading shit like that just makes me smile... which helps a lot :P 

Only a few hours ago, I was feeling really down: I felt almost worthless, as though I was little more than a bother to anyone and everyone around me—classic depression symptoms all over again :P  What was strange, though, was that I didn't want it to go away. Have you ever felt like that? You ever been moping around, feeling absolutely horrible, as though you're worth nothing, yet you don't want to stop feeling that way? I find that unusual, but at the same time it makes sense from a certain perspective.

The way I see it: I get myself in these states of depression when one negative thought is pondered on for too long, culminating in to many more negative thoughts which quickly destroys any notion of happiness or worth—this was mentioned in my previous entry, the process perfectly understood. This is followed by me pondering the worst possible scenarios I can think of pertaining to these negative thoughts, where my life is beyond all meaning and hope is completely lost. This is then assumed to be what will happen to me in the future, resulting in a predictable emotional purge. This purge is usually nothing more than me sitting around continuing to ponder on and internally progress this personal hell, at times resulting in tears, although this is usually short lived and is never far beyond my control—I'm not wailing or screaming, just quietly crying. This has happened many times before (far more often last year when I was actually bona fide depressed :P) and as such is of no surprise to me.

What happens after this, however, is a little perplexing: I don't want it to stop. I want to maintain this state of despair; I want to go on feeling sad rather than recovering and feeling any better. That's what I don't want: recovery, a resolve, a reason to quit feeling the way I do. I want to feel like this forever, never returning to whatever positive state I was in before the episode in question started; I want to accept emotional defeat, like it's the more rational thing to do (with happiness being such a pipe dream and all), and go on living the rest of my life in this condition. The reason for this, as far as I can tell, is simple: what goes up must come down. I've just come down... again :P  Therefore, it seems unreasonable to get up and expect to stay up—to expect not to come down again—so the only 'reasonable' option is to remain down forever, never getting up as to never fall back down. I want the emotional rollercoaster (no, I don't know how to get off—everyone else left the ride when puberty stopped, but I'm still here :P) to be flat, without extreme inclines or drop-offs.

The problem with this want is that once you're down so low, where else do you go but up? Everything's up from down here! That's why it takes so little to make me happy in this state: anything's better than nothing! Now, all it takes is a fucking short comic performance on YouTube or (as printed above) a cynical quotation from a strident social critic and I'm back to normal! Just another revolution on the closed emotional loop that is my life of exclusion :P
 
Speaking of my life in general, the theory seems to hold on a larger scale too: for the past 4 years (save the six months where I was in a relationship), I've been content simply wanting to go out with a particular girl; the mere interest is enough to hold me over emotionally. Even as late as last October, as soon as a particular girl became a realistic focus for me, I woke up every day with a smile on my face: I had reason to live! I had something to look forward to without fail: a conversation, or even seeing her, or even thinking about her made me happy, just as it did with all the other girls I'd previously liked! Just knowing there was the possibility of a relationship was enough to keep me out of the blues; even after I'd been in a relationship, hence hypothetically needing more than just the 'possibility' to hold me over, it only took mere thought to satisfy me. This, combined with the fear of rejection also mentioned in the previous entry (which itself is fuelled by feelings of worthlessness—hooray for more circles! :P) gives me no good reason to actually ask the girl I like out—why ruin a perfectly good fantasy? Why fuck up the status quo when you can stay happy without potentially making the woman's life worse? This is clearly the more thoughtful, considerate option :P

I am recognising, however, that thoughts are becoming darker. I've always wondered if I've legitimately considered suicide before—I've joked about it a lot, but I don't think I've ever truly wanted to off myself. Having said that, the thought has gone through my head, more regarding how people would react if I did such a thing. Visions of my work being published posthumously are contrasted with images of people hearing about my death and simply not giving a fuck. I often picture myself saying 'You know, if I got hit by a truck, I can count the people who'd give a fuck on my own two hands'—this is certainly not true today, as there are way more than ten people who'd care if I died (surely my family isn't that heartless :P), but this future of absolute isolation seemingly makes such a statement frighteningly possible. In these troubled times, I've also often pondered closing my Facebook account, leaving my phone off, never opening MSN and not seeing my friends at uni—basically committing 'social suicide'—but I never go through with that. So long as the number of people negatively affected by my would-be suicide remains a positive integer, it will not be so.

I don't feel like I can talk to my friends about anything anymore, hence my coming here to vent. I used to be able to talk to one or two friends about things like this, but I feel that those people have done more than their fair share of work, and I'd feel rude talking to anyone else because I feel as though people have better shit to do than take any part in sorting my problems out :P  A counsellor won't help either—the only reason I got better when seeing a counsellor last year was because as soon as I started seeing the counsellor, I developed feelings for someone. Correlation like that appears to imply causation, but sometimes, it simply ain't so :P  That's exactly what I begin to think happiness is in those dark moments: nothing more than an illusion of a worry-free life, where hope is just a façade to keep me numb to what life really is. That's not true, though: my happiness is just as genuine as my sadness; and, unsurprisingly, when I'm finally happy after being depressed for a while, I say to myself  'You know what? This is so much better than being mopey! I wanna stay like this!'... then I do nothing to maintain myself and the loop of bi-polarity continues.

Q.E.D