I can't believe I'm still up and it's almost 2am. I actually haven't stayed up this late in weeks and weeks. Ever since starting the summer service position I've actually been on a pretty good schedule. This is why I registered for morning classes fall semester. Maybe I'm totally screwing that up.
I shouldn't have had coffee at 6pm. I had three shots of espresso over ice with half and half and vanilla syrup. I'm getting kind of tired of that drink.
Ssshhh! Don't tell anyone I said that.

I wonder what sort of tolerance I've actually built up to caffeine. I wonder why I don't know how to spell that word.

I'm bored. I've watched too much TV tonight. I was going to go out with Liz but when I called around 8pm she told me she wasn't in the mood. I had figured we could at least hang out here and watch movies but she wasn't really into it. So I've ignored some emails from other people that I really should respond to, and went on a Target run. Bought myself a new shirt and some comfortable sandals that were on clearance. If you're looking for some cute women's summer shoes Target had got some major sales. I didn't see anything that was actually over $11.88. Both pairs I bought tonight were $2.48. You can't beat it with a stick. Mostly because a “price” is an intangible object and therefore extremely difficult to beat with anything.



One more . . . (I'm a perv, I guess)

Raw score: 90%
There's a special place in Hell for you: the basement penthouse. You scored the nastiest possible on the Sexual Hell Test. You have no sexual restraint whatsoever. You'll take pleasure however you can get it, and my guess is you get it a lot. If for some reason you don't right now, you will soon, as people in your category only tend to spiral down ever deeper into the abyss of carnality and delicious sin. Congratulations.

I, personally, think that this category is the best. Paradoxically enough, sexual liberation and indulgence can only bring you closer to purity and honesty.

AVOID: all but level 3 hellions like yourself. You wouldn't want to ruin anyone, now would you?

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 81% on hellish

Link: The Sexual HELL Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid


I stole it from Annnettte:

the Wit
(69% dark, 34% spontaneous, 27% vulgar)
your humor style:

You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean you're pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty–after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?–but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat.

I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer. Your sense of humor takes the most effort to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion.

Also, you probably loved the Office. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart – Woody Allen – Ricky Gervais

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 81% on dark
free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 43% on spontaneous
free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 43% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid


Welcome to Indiana. Yesterday and the day before we were sweltering in hot, humid, steamy weather with a heat index of 105. This morning it was chilly enough for a sweater.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining. I love this kind of weather. If I had to make a choice between a constant 60 degrees or a humid 80, I'd choose the former.

I shouldn't even be in here talking about the weather right now. My assignment today is to put up recruitment flyers and ask businesses to display cans for change donations. I was supposed to split up the area where I live and downtown with someone else that lives near me who just started, but she doesn't know her way around. I think she wanted to ride together.

Well, shit.

I Don't Know if I Wanna be Sedated.

Once at a Chinese restaurance I ate a fortune cookie that read “It is much easier for you to make friends than it is to keep them.”

I was thinking about this last night because I managed to piss off someone I really care about, someone with whom I've never really disagreed. After the whole Kate situation, and watching her walk out on me after six years of devotion to her needs, any kind of conflict with a friend makes me nervous. I'm afraid that I'm “too something” for everyone. For some I'm too cold, too neurotic, others find me too irritable, I've been told I'm way too nice, some people think I'm not nice enough, and still others have told me that I'm entirely too dependent on myself and “need to need people” more.
I know you can't please everyone all of the time, but when you've narrowed down your scope of close friends to one or two people, it's difficult not to be concerned when you do something wrong or upset one of them.

In this situation, I may have come off as “too crazy.” [Insert high-pitched giggle here.]

Several years ago my friend Liz and I were in a car accident that left me with, according to my doctor, post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I like to just refer to it as “anxiety.” She prescribed me Zoloft, asked me to take Xanax or Ativan, or something more serious if that didn't seem to work, and sent me to a shrink. I couldn't sleep when I was on the SSRI and stopped taking it after a month or two. I get so embarrassed talking about all of it (typing it out seems not as bad) that I saw the shrink only twice. He kept asking me about my history with drugs and my sexual partners and I didn't, at the time, see what in the world any of that had to do with flying through the windshield of a truck at 65 miles an hour and being afraid to get in cars. It didn't help that he kept reminding me that, primarily, he is a child psychologist and I had to sit in a tiny red plastic chair whilst describing my concerns.

After a year in school, a lot of reading, and teaching an introductory psych course, I realize that there are other things I can do besides take drugs. I think my best bet would be cognitive behavioral therapy focusing on systematic desensitization. I thought about doing this with airplanes because I'd like to travel more than I do currently (which is hardly at all), and I'm going to have to tackle this sooner or later.

I think the most disturbing thing about this disorder isn't having it so much as it is acknowledging the fact that you have it and talking about it to others. Knowing that you've been diagnosed as having “panic attacks, anxiety, intense feelings of disturbance and helplessness, increased irritability, and significant distress and depression” doesn't make you feel good. No, not so much. I think any kind of mood disorder, mental illness, breaks, or diagnoses related to the psyche are still so unknown and misunderstood that it's easier to pretend it isn't there than it is to ask for acceptance or admit outloud to others that it's going on in your brain. You feel weak, powerless, highly sensitive, silly . . .

I just don't want to isolate my friends by not dealing with it, but I also don't want to isolate people by explaining it. Can you say “wackadoo”?

Last Week for Paycheck

Scott & Jay had us over for dinner last night, which was really nice. I assisted with some tattoo photos of the roomie, Cavan, then he took off for a friend's birthday night out. After dinner we tried on the wig from the other series Scott is doing.
Those photos [<—click there for 'em] came out really well, I thought. The last two in the series are me and Charlie.

This is my last week at work. Friday is the last day and Saturday our co-worker Carlette (who won the house through Troy McClain's “Home Team” show) said she'd like to have us over to the new place for a pool party. She hasn't said anything about it recently, though, so I'm not sure if it's gonna happen. If it didn't, I'd be fine. I don't particularly care to be outside in this weather, even if I'm in a pool, and in a swimsuit in front of 25 people. Shudder.

For the next few days we'll be going around to different businesses to flyer for recruitment, as well as setting out jars for change donations, just like the ones you see where kids are missing or in the hospital. They aren't put together; they're just these little cardboard and metal cans that need labels. I've already finished the letter (I think I did it two months ago) that we'll give to the business owners. But the last thing I want to do during my last week here is drive all over Indianapolis, wasting gas and trying to keep cool because the A/C doesn't really work after 9am. Don't ask me why it works that way – it just does. Sigh.

I suppose if lack of air conditioning in the paid-off car I own outright were my biggest problem in life, I'd be pretty much doing okay, huh?


I'm jealous of Buddhists. I wish I had the ability to stop thinking, to be at one with universe and feel peace, to give up everything and reach enlightenment. I can't meditate; the longer I sit still and try to stop thinking the harder it is not to fall asleep. In fact, some of my most successful meditation sessions have ended in a nap, which sort of defeats the purpose.

I did experience a sense of total peace in a Wal-Mart Customer Service line once, though. I hate going to that store and haven't stepped inside one in months, and I hope I never do again. I was returning some blinds that were the wrong size for another set, standing in a line of half a dozen other people. Everyone seemed cranky. Wal-Mart is a depressing place and most everyone in there seems pissed to be so poor that they can't afford to shop at Trader Joe's and Crate and Barrel all the time.
While I was standing in line I managed to completely space out, which is what I imagine meditation should be like. I honestly didn't have a thought in my head. I didn't hear any sound, didn't see any of the people walking past me or the inevitable barks for customer service managers into the PA system.
At one point, several miraculously peaceful minutes later, I was interrupted because a woman had come up to me. I realized suddenly that she had been standing behind me for a while, then kept slowly creeping up until she right in front of me, staring directly in to my face.
“Are you waiting in line?” She finally asked, rather curtly.
I only said, “Obviously,” and gestured toward the now-only-two people in line in front of me.
She seemed surprised by my quiet yet pointed response, and immediately got back behind me, muttering a mild apology.
It's the only time I've ever really put someone in their place, even if completely unintentionally. I had no reason to want to be rude to this woman, but when I realized how she'd been hovering over me, and had interrupted my “meditation” out of pure ignorance and impatience, I was surprised to find that I wasn't really even irritated with her. Generally irritation is what starts, then builds up, then eventually causes me to explode. I was pleased to find that I felt nothing at all, and promptly returned to my vegetative state.

One of my eight tattoos is two Chinese characters stacked on top of one another on my right wrist. They read something like “compassion” and “patience,” but together it's more like “With compassion one can endure.” Surprisingly enough, they mean something. I had chosen these two characters, because I liked the idea of looking at that every day and thinking about the importance of these two virtures, but I didn't give much thought to what they would read together. And older Chinese gentleman who used to come in the bookstore a lot told me once that it was actually a nice and noble phrase.
I also have a tattoo of a latin sentence on my left ankle. Roughly translated to “I think, therefore I am depressed.” Some people think it's funny, some people think it's terrible. I think it's mildly ironic and definitely true. If last night is any indication I can't easily stop myself from thinking too much and getting irritated or depressed as a result.
After getting the email from Kate I wrote and re-wrote a dozen times here in my journal but I was never satisfied with the thoughts I was so furiously typing and deleting.

I don't like admitting that another person has this much control over my emotions or that I could be so deeply hurt by something that was, ultimately, my own fault. I was never what she needed me to be, so we were bound to split up. I keep thinking that I speak about the whole thing as if we were in an intimate relationship, but we never dated or anything like that. But there's something much more intimate about friends that you don't always get out of lovers. More often than not, it seems people from my generation and younger are much quicker to jump into bed with one another than they are to share their deepest feelings; so you may be much closer to a friend than you are a partner.

I suppose in a way, then, it's as if I have ended a very long, intimate relationship. Maybe because I shared so much of myself with her and saw her at so many of her worst times but continued to stick it out with her, I feel as if I'm being divorced, left for another lover.

Oh, well.

Response to Response

I care a lot for my friend Liz. Liz is a responsible human being. Because Liz is responsible for herself and her own things, she is responsible for her friends and family, as well. She is trustworthy and reliable. You are none of those things because you have no respect for yourself.

You cannot find value in your own life by asking other people to give it to you.

I'm not sure, but I'm thinking she is never going to understand the chain reaction of shitty events caused by her irresponsibility. Why the hell should she care? She gets to “take a break” and start a whole new life with a new set of people who she hasn't yet begun to suck the life out of.

I don't think I will ever understand how it is humanly possible to walk through day after day after day, oblivious to anything but what you and only you want or need. How can you place value on a concept that almost never exists over something as priceless and real as a strong relationship?

Blah blah blah

I don't know if I'm allowed to do this since it's someone else's site, it's copyrighted, and he's not given me permission, but since only about 2.5 people actually read this, I figured little would be hurt by my bragging about how much I like this photo taken by Scott of my back tattoos.

Also, I finally emailed a snotty message to Kate. Got it off my chest, I suppose. I sent her a link to an MSN article about women and the seven types of other females they need to avoid. I put two different types in bold; The Whiner, and The Dumper. At the top of the email, I wrote: “I was surprised to read this and see that two of these types applied directly to you.
“By the way, you can't fire me; I quit.”

I'm not sure if any of those seven types apply to me. Probably a little bit of each, but I don't think nearly as much as those specific two apply to her.

I don't know if this will resolve anything, if I will just feel nervous, if she'll get pissed and shoot me some nasty email. But after all that I believe I've done for her in the past decade or so, I feel the least I am allowed is a snotty retort about what a bad friend she has been.

Women are nasty; include me among them.


The benefit concert went well. We were pretty successful, despite competing with the Vogue's sold out Les Claypool show. We raised almost a grand, which ends up being only 1/15th of what we were supposed to raise for the summer. It's quite disappointing to think that we have put in so much work the past 7.5 weeks into attempting to raise money and haven't even put a dent in our ultimate goal.
On the other hand, I know this organization has never planned any sort of special events, so all of this is new to them, as well.
My co-worker and I created a super-organized binder with a memo, table of contents, and all this crap. Thanks, Business Writing English class! I took that last semester and basically did the same thing I had for the portfolio. No PowerPoint presentations or anything, but it helped.

I'm back at work again, but I was really late this morning. Almost an hour, in fact. I don't know if it's my alarm or just my being in general ill-health. I got really tired after a trip to Borders with Jay & Scott and never even finished the load of laundry in the dryer. I just went up to bed around 11:30, read a little bit of my new book, and passed out at some point with the light still on, clutching my paperback copy of “Lamb.”
I woke up a while later, turned off my light, saved my place in the book, and promptly fell back to sleep. I don't remember any of my dreams, and I haven't been recalling them in the past few weeks except once or twice.
My doctor's appointment is a week from Monday, then who-knows-how-long before finding out if that resolved any issues, or if I'll have to go back in for different kinds of tests. Just thinking about it makes me feel tired.

If I had to place my finger on one, specific problem, though . . . it wouldn't be that I'm incredibly depressed, or that I'm sick, or that I'm worn out from working so hard . . . I think I might just be really bored. Now that the concert's over and I've handed over the volunteer sign-up sheet, cash, and paperwork, I feel like it's all over. I'm interested in either starting something new, or just sitting at home reading and cleaning house until classes start.

That probably sounds really bad, huh?