the lies I live in

It's been a tough go of it lately in dealing with my depressive feelings and it's made even more so by my recent introduction to a new job.

There's something disheartening about being unable to connect with other people the way I used to. All smiles, jokes and laughter -- I was proud of the way I handled myself and looked forward to spirited conversation with the nearest person I could find.

No longer.

It seems like I'm chasing a ghost these days. The more I slide off the peak of my moods, the more I dream of the past, the more sad I get.

Because I remember how it used to be. In the same sense that a widower might, having lost the one she loved.

In a way, I'm grieving. On occasion I pound with balled fists upon the chest of my seemingly dead self, hoping to bring it back to life once more -- and it just lies there, motionless and looking up at me with these cold, dead eyes that I'm afraid to peer into.

I'm reminded at the moment of how much I love my melodrama. It's suited me well in the past. Both with writing and in relationships. With my ability to exaggerate, I was able to leverage it into a talent for story telling and it also functioned as a means to hone the edge of my feelings. I would feel emotion more intensely than the average person would, and I'd revel in that.

And that melodrama hasn't quite died yet I don't think. I see it in the words I am typing at the moment, words I've typed elsewhere and the occasional joke that escapes my lips all are drenched in this secret sauce of mine. I look at the topic title for this post and go, "huh. that doesn't quite pertain to what I'm writing about, but maybe it will reach that conclusion at some point."

It just seems like I thrive on drama and I wonder if in a sense, that has been my undoing. In addition to the continued deterioration of my capacity to hear other people well to hold a stable conversation without having to strain at their words.

But if drama is the problem I'm facing. That incessant need for wanting to make more of something than there really is -- then what would I end up being without it?

A soulless husk. A shell.

Wouldn't I be?

There's always something sad to remark upon when hearing stories of people who have reached great heights, whether personal or outwardly in nature -- only to have fallen down to a pit that they don't seem able to extract themselves from. Our society enjoys a good, poignant drama involving the human condition and I am a more guilty victim of this than it seems most are.

It's not that I care so much about the triumphs and failures of celebrities that I'll never meet who I read about on the cover of gossip rags while waiting in line at the grocery store -- it's that I care about the people that are close to me. Every one of their triumphs is a bit of a triumph for myself. Every one of their failures, is something that I feel partially responsible and saddened by.

I think some would call this empathy, and if that's what my condition can be described as, then I wouldn't argue against this particular bit of judgement.

Except, I don't know if it was just empathy that has sustained me through the best and worst of times. I think it was more than just sympathy for my fellow man.

I think it was something along the lines of respecting the natural order of things and believing in it enough to feel inspired by it.

I think I just had a lot of faith in the notion of there being a spiritual democracy of sorts that governed the world and interactions at large. That we vote unconsciously towards the world we want to live in and that a governing body would tally up these ballots and implement the change we wish to see.

But as I get older, I'm starting to doubt the existence of such a system being in place.

Maybe that's what depresses me most. Knowing that all the faith I might have in the world, is all for naught. That faith is nothing more than wishful thinking and that my sphere of influence is so minuscule that I may well be rendered impotent.

When I was a wide-eyed child looking upon this world with equal parts fear, awe and respect; there was a good deal of obstacles that stood in the way of this view of mine. That we are all one and the rules are fair as well as being open to negotiation whether it be through prayer, or devotion towards a particular cause.

In short, I thought faith alone was all I really needed. To believe in myself and that I wouldn't get fucked over for any of it.

Well, the years have eroded away such a naive notion and has left me with a great deal of uncertainty.

One thing I am thankful for however, is that I can still write down my thoughts in a fair amount of illuminating detail. I can still write. But that muse.. the muse is about as fickle as a mistress in the best of times and as conspicuous as a shadow during the worst.

I NEED to finish my book. My novel is still sitting at around 200 pages on chapter 30 and it doesn't feel anything close to being finished.

It's already been a year and a half since I started writing it.

I've been going backwards instead of forwards, mainly because of how daunting a challenge it really is to write a book. There's no passion behind these fingers of mine at the moment and when I think about how I managed to write 200 pages in the first place -- I'm reminded that I was under pressure to perform.

Maybe that's the problem with me right now. I'm not pressuring myself enough. I like complaining and talking about "writing a novel" more so than actually doing it. But it's not like I don't think my book has a chance and should be tossed out with the trash; I really do think it has a good shot at becoming something quite compelling.

It's just that.. I've lost either faith in it, or .. No, I haven't lost faith if I'm still continuing to talk about it. No, I think I've only .. no, I haven't lost faith in myself either.. So what is it? What's causing this blockage of my imagination? Why is my will not being done?

Maybe because I'm scared. Scared that all that hard work is going to amount to nothing. That it won't be appreciated. It won't make any money. And all I'll have is 300-400 pages of drivel that I've spent over a year and a half worrying and talking about.

I don't know. Or maybe I'm just scared of the work involved because I'm not assured of what the results of finishing it would be.

I don't fucking know anymore.

It's amusing to me how much I've been typing in this blog post when I know that applying this same amount of effort towards the novel would yield more productive results.

But that's a question I wonder about. Maybe my inner-most thoughts need to be exposed, examined and written down first before I can move on with the book. Maybe self-examination is the key to discovering the enthusiasm I've been hoping to reclaim.

God damn is this ever hard to figure out.

What is this post? 1,100 words?

Could've been half of a chapter already.

It's Sunday night and I need to prepare myself for work tomorrow morning. Where I'll face the usual difficulties in connecting with others and continuing along with my sullen self, watching imagination evaporate as I rip off insulation from piping for ten hours in freezing weather.

There must be a better way.

I might find it just yet.

kathy.

I guess I kind of have to.

This is Kathy, whom I had a relationship with last year. That picture was taken in my car on the way home from the flea market we've left.

I got her that Domo doll.

I still miss her and I don't.

I wish things could have been different.

chillingly compelling

My mind is going off on one of it's moments of pure introspection at the moment, and as I am thinking, making several observations of my life; I'm realizing that these thoughts will remain vaporous and likely will be forgotten should I not write them down.

That's a sobering reality right there, writing stuff down is what makes my thoughts permanent. Which gives them substance, and allows for future extrapolation, expansion and exploration of these ideas I'm having.

Why can't I get that truth through my thick skull? Why has my creative processes dried up and my love of writing rusting itself over like a hammer left outside for several years?

And as I think about it, I'm realizing it has so much to do with fear. Being afraid of letting myself go head first into something that will consume my attention and passion -- but not guaranteeing the success of its reception, or achieving a sustainable living by it.

I think those are my biggest fears, wasting my time writing. People write every single day on blogs, twitter, Facebook, message boards, short stories, long stories, technical reports, essays and a few have even written entire books. Not just one, or two, but dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. Some of them do it while they work full time, some even become successful.

That's something which troubles me to no end. Knowing the difficulty in producing something meaningful and then not being assured of it's success. It's kind of like spending a year of your life building a canoe that you hope will take you to a destination far greater and prosperous than the space you are presently inhabiting, but not having a map to really know where you're going.

Writing professionally, has terrified me, resigned me and now appears to have disinterested me just because I now am fully aware of how incredibly difficult it would be to achieve something of merit given the tens of thousands of other people like me who are hoping for that same pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Who really gives a shit about what I think? That has been the driving mantra behind my stagnation this past year. Who would truly appreciate what I hope to accomplish by my work? And more importantly, can I craft something worthy of being inducted into the public consciousness? Can I produce something of merit?

Can I do it if I push myself as hard as humanly possible? Do I have it within me? Is there something inside that will switch on and create something amazing? Do I believe in myself enough to pull it off?

Can I ever pull it off?

And that is where my insecurities come to light. My weaknesses are raw and exposed whenever I entertain such notions. I'm reminded of the moments in my past where impulsive behaviour and good intentions resulted in the birth of a  monstrosity that I am ashamed to acknowledge.

I speak of the two manic episodes I've had in my life. But I am not sure if they are topics I wish to address in this post.

I spend a lot of time consuming books on achieving your potential, how to win friends & influence people. Hawaiian Shamanism. What The Bleep Do We Know? Promethesus Rising. The biography of Aleister Crowley and the Satanic Bible. I have recently picked up two books that have piqued my interest. One is a compilation of essays/stories by C.S. Lewis which deals in morality and the other is The Art of Mastery by Robert Greene.

Why am I troubling myself by continuing to read these books, hoping for some flash of insight that will glue together the broken pieces inside and make me whole  when I know that I already have the answers that I seek.

I already know what to do and yet I fail to do it.

Plato's dialogue on Menos expressed the idea of remembering what we have forgotten as far as the process of learning goes. He postulates the vastness of wisdom to exist in a nebulous realm that can be accessed by every man, woman and child. Some New Agers describe it as the Akashic Records, a repository of all that was and all that will be. Others slap the label intuition on and argue that our subconsciousness sometimes reaches informed conclusions faster than our rational minds can -- if we should trust and recognize such processes.

That's been a big problem for me, ever since having these two manic episodes to know exactly what is genuine, sincere intention acting on wisdom; and what is nothing more than a fanciful exaggeration of my ego.

It's been so hard trying to separate fact from fiction that I am bewildered by it to the point that being non-commital is easier than choosing a side.

But perhaps, we should take sides. No matter how much of reality is subjective, maybe drawing a line in the sand and abiding by certain principles is the most effective way to be.

I don't know and yet, somehow I do know.

Goddamn you Akashic Records. Floating up in space somewhere, holding all the keys to the locks that I can never figure out how to open.

There have been so many books out there, so many competing ideologies and doctorines and theories that it's difficult to figure out where to stand on any of these. Or if I should have to. But living the life I've lived for so long, should have taught me the necessity of sticking by principles and yet I fail to carry forth a personal philosophy that elevates my sense of hierarchy in this life.

I realize by now at this point, the most accurate truth I can feel confident enough in stating -- is that I absolutely know nothing.

No matter how much I learn about a subject, there will always be someone saying, "but what about this?" and presents an argument worth serious consideration. There will always be a principle or fact that can be called into question and argued for or against.

So with that in mind, how can I choose sides? Why should I have to choose anything?

I'm sure had I subjected this problem to some other thinkers, I will receive a number of responses that offer multiple perspectives but nothing that can universally be agreed upon.

Atheists these days will snort at the idea of there being a God while Christians defend their faith.

Agonistics are ridiculed for not choosing a side, while Paganists are laughed at.

The sky may be black right now above my head, but it's a blue, sunny color over in another part of the world.

String theory may or may not be viable. Simulation theory may or may not be viable.

Black holes contain universes which contain other univereses that go onward to infinity. Yet, science have yet to present conclusive evidence for or against the idea of infinity.

Love is this intangible emotion and carries with it so many meanings that it can be difficult to settle upon just one.

Others say that love is nothing more than instinctual conditioning and is produced by a chemical secreted inside of our minds.

Many people claim selfishness to be the greatest of all evils, others would pronounce ignorance, and still others will claim selfishness to be paramount and others will spout that ignorance is "bliss".

One thing for sure is, nobody has all the fucking answers. Or everybody does, yet choose to ignore them.

So what do I make of all this? Should I or should I not draw that moral line in the sand and live a principled and structured life adhering to convictions of mine which may or may not be correct?

One thing that I am curious about, is the necessity of having convictions. We absolutely need convictions, rock-hard truths that enable us to allay our feelings of doubt and helplessness.

In essence, we deeply desire and require the need to live a life that makes sense. Even if it's just to ourselves and not others.

Yet, convictions are a byproduct of faith. Faith is essentially a suspension of disbelief and it walks hand in hand with conviction without becoming mutually exclusive to one another.

We need faith to survive.

Yet, where should we place it? How will we know that a certain idea or thought deserves to take prominence within our lives?

That is the great mystery to me.

With that tangent having been played out, I must return to my original thoughts.

Can I produce something worthwhile that will benefit both myself, and others? Even if it's purely for entertainment purposes? A well-told story.

I don't know. But I really want to.

Two hundred plus pages of Puer Aueternus: The Electric Messiah sits quietly in the corner glaring at me with the white of its eyes.

I love maybe 40% of it. It's some of the best stuff I have ever written.

And it sits there, uncomplaining but neglected. Like a loving pet that you simply don't have time to give the attention it deserves.

That's where my shame comes from. Part of it anyways. And this emotion has me locked in a loop of negativity that is so difficult to break through from.

Because I don't know if it's worth pursuing.

I don't believe enough in myself to know that it's going to be great.

I'm too ashamed of myself to feel confidence. And too unintelligent to know how to change.

Or maybe I just haven't found a compelling enough reason to push myself forward. It would have to be something inspiring that transcends the need for money, or admiration.

God, I'm so close to figuring out what it might be, but I'm not really sure of it yet.

To give the book away for free has crossed my mind more than once. That is a painless and benevolent action on my part. To just let my words find the eyes that can appreciate them without the barrier of payment.

But I would still be working a shitty job and living a sad, lonely single life.

I don't want to give up. If I'm still reading self-help books, then I know there's still something inside of me that is fighting to be set free.

I'm just afraid of what that might be.

the past is a stain

It's not going well. Since my time with Leah last November, I couldn't bring myself to dating someone new. Not until that wound had healed all the way through.

Well, last night I took a leap and went out with Karen whom I met on eHarmony.

I'll repeat, it didn't go well.

The initial meeting was okay. She had a nice smile, I felt comfortable but nervous. It was serviceable for about an hour until..

Four people crashed the party.

I'm still kind of.. amused by it. Basically, there weren't any other tables available and these four people asked to sit next to us -- occupying the entire table, on our first date. They apologized for it initially and when it was jokingly said, "I hope it's not your first date.." I had to laugh and confirm it was. The table went into an uproar.

After that initial revelation, these four people talked among themselves as they knew one another and had that chemistry established, but all I could do was nervously sip at my beer with Karen next to me and hoped she would finish soon enough for us to leave.

Well, it didn't go that way. She ordered another drink and struck up a conversation with the girl across from her.

They went on for a good hour at least and I was left holding the bag, Interjecting a few words here and there but ultimately not really doing much of anything. I gave her a hopefull glance out across the street and I don't think Karen picked up on the hint. Eventually, she really struck a chord with that one particular girl and I was excluded altogether from the conversation.

So, there I was, trying to keep my nerve while listening to these girls gossip and unable to say a thing. Once Karen suggested we go for a cigarette, a spasm of relief washed over me as I explained how much I sucked at being in groups -- particularly when I don't know a single person there. She said she didn't have any problems connecting and I nodded my head knowing that it wasn't anyone's fault really.

Except mine.

I guess with the time I spent away from dating, it really caught up to me how ill-prepapred I was to handle conversation. Group conversation more specifically. It doesn't help that I had hearing issues to begin with, but I didn't know how to integrate myself regardless of whether I was hearing every word spoken or not.

The chatter was mindless. I couldn't get interested about any of it.

And as I apologized to Karen and gave her a kiss, thanking her for meeting up -- I walked away wondering if this is how it is everywhere. That conversation for conversation's sake is commonplace.

It was disheartening for me to accept that it probably is. And that I might not ever be good enough at participating in these kind of get-togethers.

As I got home, I just kind of.. felt drained. Drained of life. Like.. Almost as if I accepted the void within me and wrapped myself up snugly with it.

It didn't feel reassuring at all. It almost felt like an infliction of shame upon my person.

But what other option is there? Quiet acceptance is better than self indignation isn't it? The more I allow myself to get angry, the .. Well.. Maybe anger is the proper motivator here, but how? How do I get myself more in line with what I would like to be? How do I bring myself to feeling good about the way I am and how my life is going?

I.. can't.

I always used to hear that things could be worse. That there are people in x country who are suffering more than I am and I should be grateful for what I already have. And that is true, in a way of saying "Boy, am I glad I'm not in a North Korean Death Camp" but.. it doesn't change the fact that I have a real problem that needs solving.

It doesn't change the fact that I am unhappy. First world problem or not.

Could I adjust my expectations to accept my life and my being the way they are? To make do with what I have and to not want/need things like a good relationship? A rewarding career? Loyal friends? A loving family? Money?

I could adjust. But should I? Should I settle for this? Is it even an option, or could I be more? Could I achieve more?

More importantly, do I think I deserve more in life?

Yes. My mind would speak. Yes, I do.

What fucking hurts most, is already knowing this but not being convinced that I can create a better life beyond what I already have.

If anything had damaged me most from my upbringing, it would be that twisted sense of entitlement my mother had fostered within me. The second most hurtful thing, was not being given direction. Not being believed in enough to think that my goals were realistic and worth striving towards.

No. It was, "you need to get a job." after graduation. There was no interest in post-secondary education within my family. The relationship  I had with my father throughout my mid to early-twenties, was non-existant. My mother was as clueless as I was, with what to do with securing my place in the world. The only person who spoke out, was my stepdad who got me into insulating. And even then, it was more like "post-secondary? pfft! you shouldn't bother. Get into the trades."

But, I can't keep blaming the past. No matter how it affected my life. No matter how much it still is affecting my life.

No matter how much I am haunted by it.

No matter how much I still think of this woman:

Even before Leah...

Before Lauren...

And before Michelle...

I had to have fallen in love with Tina.

And that's a whole other blog post.

I'm tired.. I'm done. 

At least for now.

First world problems.

the madness continues

So this happens to be the book I am reading now:

Yep, I have terrible taste in novels, that's not the interesting part. What's interesting is in the first few pages that I've read today, the name John Carter popped out at me. Interesting, I thought, because the protagonist in the novel I am writing happens to be Jack Carpenter or J.C. for both. So they have the same initials, no big deal. Novel is set on Mars too, right?

When I came home from work today, I loaded up NeoGaf's off-topic discussion forum and whats the first post on the page?

This

John Carter (of Mars) is a movie that was released in March of this year.

Synchronicity, got to love it. But really, what does this mean? Having dreamed about Alan Rickman and then coming across John Carter (of Mars) while reading a book written in 1979 that mentions a John Carter on Mars.. Well, that's coincidental.

It's things like this that makes me wonder what is responsible for such coincidences to occur. It's tempting to suggest that I am creating my own reality moment-by-moment and that time is not linear, or that something is guiding me towards a particular outcome or understanding -- but who the hell knows? I like to believe that I influence things on a non-physical/non-local level, where I attract related ideas and events to achieve some kind of outcome, and perhaps that is what is happening here.

Or maybe, I'm just reading too much into it. There is no question our minds can influence objects / ideas / persons / events on a subliminal level. But the real question is, to what extent and purpose does such influence hold? If one were to believe that things happen for a reason and that nothing is random, then perhaps a deeper understanding of the forces at work is needed before rhyme and reason can be given to such occurrences.

And because it's difficult, if not impossible to prove anything factual in divine intervention or the law of attraction; it may come down to personal judgement. That if YOU feel it to be true, then it is. Science can confirm the observer effect, that simply looking at a particle can influence whether or not it appears as a particle or a wave and when not observing such data, it could end up being something else altogether.

In short -- everything is a mystery, but one thing that seems blatantly apparent to me, is our capacity to create and attract things by sheer mind-power alone. And I'm really leaning towards the idea of non-linear time also. It just seems to make the most sense, despite little evidence to support such theories.

If only something more dramatic than Alan Rickman and John Carter would present itself, we'll see what happens in the next few days as I pay extra special attention to my surroundings.

Maybe things are more coincidental then we might think.

Alan.. Rickman?

It's been a while since I last posted, but I am feeling flabbergasted at the moment and ran over to post this. Two days ago, I had a strange dream. In it, I was searching for God and somehow thought that calling random phone numbers and asking for God would inevitably lead somewhere. It did, to a strange pre-recorded voice going by the name of Alan Rickman. It didn't specifically state it was "God" and it sounded very haltingly. Like a robot struggling to vocalize language that it wasn't fluent speaking in. In my mind at the time, I thought this was God. Upon waking, the name Alan Rickman went through my head and I didn't have a clue as to who it is. But it sounded very familiar and since it didn't seem worth pursuing via a Google search, I put it out of my thoughts.

Until today, when I randomly decided to watch an episode of Family Guy on Netflix. Episode 16 of season 7. What happens? In the first few minutes, a skit came up with an answering machine under the name of Alan Rickman. The creepy part? That same robotic voice was the one I heard in my dream. I'm not sure what to make of it, but this is meaningful in of itself. And it makes me wonder. I've been in a spiritual funk lately and feel myself becoming more and more distrustful of the idea that God exists. It's a terrible way to be given that I've believed in a higher power for so long, but I had to face the fact that I've never found compelling enough evidence to warrant believing in such a thing. But here it is, a genuine sign.

Alan Rickman.. is this guy?

Professor Servus Snape from Harry Potter? WTF?

I don't think I've ever watch a HP film in it's entirity, much less know who Professor Servus Snape would be and who plays him. So I dug a little deeper and scanned his filmography to see if maybe a certain film had left a deep enough impression for my subconcious to somehow dredge up.

Perfume: Story of a Murderer. I didn't like this film and I'm not sure if I even remember who Rickman played.

Rasputin (tv series) - This one is interesting, as I've long been fascinated by the mythos behind Grigori Rasputin (and his apparently 13" dong) -- yet, I don't remember having seen this.

And lastly, Die hard. In which I do remember him playing the villian, but I haven't seen Die Hard in forever.

So, to put things into perspective here, I've had a dream about finding God, only to end up hearing a robotic voice claiming to be Alan Rickman whom I believed was God and then two days later, randomly coming across a family guy episode that I have NEVER SEEN where the robotic voice + Alan Rickman mirrors my dream to a T.

Is that messed up or what? Either God works in mysterious ways, or my brain is seriously haywire and is pulling in bogus psychic information from someplace. Another inference would be that time might not be linear and I instead had a dream about watching this particular Family Guy scene two days before it happened. Who the hell knows.

Life goes on.

unreality

I'm stuck, spiritually and it's a horrible feeling to have.

Because, I can't accept anything based on faith these days, not after several personal experiences of mine point towards either a lack of a higher power, or an inability of mine to truly understand how to utilize/address it.

I used to say a prayer at night before going to bed. It didn't really feel like anything more than a habit I've picked up as a child and it was a way for me to hedge my bets on the side of divinity by directing my thoughts towards acknowledging it.

In time, I grew more.. demanding. I wanted real spiritual insight. Real revelations. Proof of this higher power that supposedly most of the population of Earth believes to exist. But the answers never seemed to come. Or maybe they have, but I wasn't able to discern whether or not it was true, or wishful thinking on my part.

That's the tragedy right there in any kind of belief system. Even among atheists. Because, as I've eventually figured out, the answers to life's questions are really a matter of personal judgement. There will never be any kind of concrete evidence that point towards one conclusion or another. Does God exist? Am I God? Or are we all but the product of random mutations in an otherwise chaotic and random universe?

Is there a purpose to all this? And where do we go when we die? Should a supreme being exist, what are it's demands? What is it's function? Are we alone in the universe? Or are there other civilizations that have reached a greater understanding behind the nature of creation?

Questions like these permeate my life in many subtle ways. From my career, to my dreams, to explaining what I have experienced in the past and to predict what I may experience in the future. All of my concerns have to do with determining the extent of my power and purpose.

Whenever I think about the shitty things that I have gone through, the heartaches in my relationships, the difficulty in letting go of guilt, of pain and fear, I have taken notice of several peripheral improvements that I have made in the lives of others as a result of my actions and thoughts.

For example. A few years ago, two good friends of mine initiated a threesome with me out of the blue and I reacted with a combination of disbelief, intense flattery, profound feelings of affection towards the girl involved and measures of anger, sadness and points in between.

In short, I gained very little in having to go through that situation -- or perhaps, I have gained a lot. I am not quite sure.

But one thing that I know, is that my actions likely changed the relationship between my friends Tina and Jeff. Not the relationship that I had with them, but the one they have with each other. Today, they are closer for having gone through what we did. What I did. Even if I didn't mean for it to turn out that particular way.

I look at my immediate family and friends and see examples of how my actions influenced and improved their lives. It's strange to admit, but I almost feel like I've given my life up for the sake of others. So that they do not make the same mistakes as I have. So that they "think" a different way as a response to having seen the way I reacted to certain situations. In short, I was the guy who willingly threw his heart out into everyone's lap if only to prove that unrestrained emotion is not something one should strive towards achieving. That sometimes emotion do not need to be acted upon, or spoken of, but rather kept close -- that making oneself extremely vulnerable is asking for heaps of trouble.

I dislike what I have become. But others are better for it. And thus, the spiritual crisis emerges.

Because, I try and figure out why it seems that I do not deserve the things I have wanted most in life. My belief system has usually been one of feeling connected to the world. To others, God and myself. That my thoughts would attract the things or experiences that I needed in order to achieve what I desired. I felt as if everything was a web, and that karma would eventually come to reward me for being honest about my feelings. To reward for me being true to my heart by not holding anything back.

Unfortunately, this does not seem to be the case. Perhaps I am short-sighted and cannot see into the future far enough to know whether or not my struggle will be given a peaceful and amicable resolution. So, at the moment, all I can do is to try and not let the sadness I carry within, consume my heart down to nothingness.

I must persevere. I must try.

Giving up is a sign that I relinquish control of my life to the whims of society and other people. To circumstance. And it's a terrible way to be. To not be able to care. To feel empowered enough to make changes and achieve success.

When I first started this rant, I had the thought in mind that I would slowly write in "facts" as I discover them. Facts that pertain to life so that I may have something concrete to believe in. Something like, knowing that my reaction to situations is of my own choosing. That optimism will take me farther ahead than pessimism ever will. Facts like knowing that I likely will never be able to prove the existence of a higher power and that I should find contentment with living in the now. To not put so much pressure on myself. But at the same time, I understand that pressure fuels motivation which can lead towards results.

So, I don't know what to think anymore these days.

Do I go with the flow and place my trust in something that I cannot confirm the existence of?

Should I strive to take responsibility for every single thing that's happened in my life and to transcend my shortcomings as best as I can without allowing for possible supersitutious nonsense that may or may not be true?

Just how important is belief in a higher power, anyways?

I don't know.

But I hope I find out someday.

too fast too furious

It's Wednesday, 12:30pm and as of now, I am 48 hrs into the fast.

I do confess however, that I broke convention and decided to have a cup of coffee this morning. No milk, cream or sugar. Just straight up as black as it gets.

But what happened after I took a few sips? My body started freaking out due to it getting a jolt of caffeine on an empty stomach. I felt my pulse rate go up within seconds and began twitching my leg to shake off the nervous energy that was being generated.

It sucked. That right there was coffee in it's purest form, I'm surprised to not have noticed the immediacy of it's effects before.

Energy-wise, I'm feeling okay so far. You would think I'd end up being a lethargic mess with a stomach rumbling like a dump truck along a gravel road, but no. It's surprising how much hunger really is more of a psychological sensation rather than a physical one. Granted, one a person nears the starvation phase and starts snacking on their innards, the body will certainly signal it's distress.

But as of now, I have zero appetite and I feel fine.

That doesn't keep me from dreaming about eating again. Of Ritz crackers, fried all-you-can-eat fish, pizza, hamburgers, coffee, popcorn, salty sunflower seeds, prime rib... (clutches stomach) ughhhh! Can't wait...

I think this experiment is providing me with a much needed perspective on food. To not take it for granted. And it's also emboldening me somewhat, knowing that my willpower to refuse food is somewhat a commendable attribute to have. Then again, it's partly because of my mother telling her co-workers that I'm fasting that is motivating me a bit more than usual. Last thing I'd like to do is quit on the 2nd or 3rd day and be made into a wishy-washy pansy.

Heck no, three days minimum and I'm shooting for Friday. That's five days in total making it just two more to go. Then I'll be popping off the lids on a few cans of soup and slowly working my way back to normal again.

It's still tough though, but it's possible. Fasting can be done. Although I haven't experienced any of the detox effects that I was originally hoping for, maybe it's just impatience and I need to hang on for a few more days. The benefits I'm experiencing at the moment is a definite increase in my lung capacity and a diminished need for sleep with more vivid dreams. That's about it, and I can't say I'm particularly thrilled about it.

Yet I am soldering on, two more days and a bowl of clam chowder will be waiting for me at the finish line. I'm super excited for it.

I never thought I'd ever say that about a bowl of soup.

But there it is.

the fast and the spurious

Excuse the grotestque image above..

So after a few days of deliberation, with the initial inspiration of this article as the impetus to foster my desire -- I have decided to attempt fasting.

Why? Why would a fairly trim fellow like myself resort to intentionally avoiding food for several days? It's because of the health benefits. It's because I am sick of feeling tired, burnt out and listless. I'm sick of the way my stomach rumbles noisily as it often does without any indication of why. I'm sick of feeling gassy, as if my digestive system is converting everything inside into giant globs of methane that I have to shoot out of my bum.

It's time for a reboot, and I think fasting might just do the trick.

So this would be day number one, and I suppose it would be a good idea to chronicle the emotions and physical sensations I've been experiencing so that I can track my progress and reflect upon it at a later date. God knows it's not for the benefit of any readers out there (there aren't any) and it will double as a diary to help explain how they've found my body face down on the floor clutching an open box of Ritz crackers (that I will have stubbornly refused to open).

I'm 34 years old and my system has been ingesting crap for the past.. 15 years if not more. Cursed with a sweet tooth and a love of greasy foods; this is my attempt to purge all of the garbage out and to get myself back to square one.

Today is the first day, woke up at around 5am and thought I was going to start the fast. But at around 9am, I was like.. "ughh.. maybe I'll just have these before it gets bad.." and I'd polish off the bag of sugar snap peas I had at the bottom of my fridge. Okay, now what?

Well.. At around 11ish that same morning, I'm thinking.. "hmm.. eggs wouldn't be such a bad idea would it? It should be considered 'safe' for my body." Being that I've taken to avoiding processed/sugary foods, I figured my reasoning allowed for the consumption of.. heh.. four eggs, three slices of bacon and a 1/4 of a chopped onion. Some fast this is turning out to be.

Then of course, a coffee afterwards.. God.. I loved drinking it despite the "rules" of fasting to be the avoidance of caffeine, tobacco and alcohol.

(sighs) It's not an easy thing to do. It's 3:30pm at the moment and the final tally so far has been:

1 cup of coffee
about 1 cup of sugar snap peas
a box of chocolate covered raisins.. (I know.. I know..)
4 eggs / 1/4 onion + 3 slices of bacon

So far, the fast is going great! I can feel changes in my body already. /sarcasm

I guess I kind of want to ease into it.. Now that my mind is set on fasting, I have developed a greater awareness of my appetite and consumption. It's not going to be an easy stretch to go for maybe.. 5 days without food and only juice -- but I'll try my best.

Giving up cigarettes... coffee... sweet stuff... brutal. I don't know if I have the constitution to survive all this and push myself down the road to better health, but I know that I damn well should try. It's the attempt that matters more than the result. The desire defines my intention, and the result is nothing more than a welcome surprise. Whatever it will end up being.

Perhaps I'll discover my third eye will open up and can realize my dormant ability to levitate three inches off the ground while squatting naked in a lotus position.

One can only hope.

perseverance

What a life. What a year. It's finally come about, 2012, the dawn of a forthcoming new age to occur on or about December 22nd of this year. My, how time flies.

The Mayans never did predict that it would be the end of the world, but rather the end of the age. The coming of a new consciousness. Their prophecy had nothing to do with doom and gloom, and interpretations abound among scholars and armchair cynics alike. But one thing they have in common, is that something is supposed to happen on or near December 22nd, 2012.

I sure as hell hope so. Because, I'm tired of all this. I'm tired of the way the world is. My heart is heavy and my feet drag as I get up out of bed each morning to face a new day. A same day, is what I'd rather call it.

The nice thing about having this blog for myself is that I can be honest. I can air out my dirty laundry and not feel the sting of inquisition or the feeling of being judged by others.

These are my thoughts, and mine alone.

So, with that said, I need to do my annual confession and round up of what occurred this year.

Thinking about the events have made me hang my head in shame. For myself, for humanity, for the world.

I mean, there's nothing out there that inspires hope anymore. I can't think of a reason for me to feel any better about my personal situation, or the general situation with society and the world as it is today.

It feels as if I have finally lost my faith. In myself, in society, in politics, people, God..

Growing up, I've always been resilient. No, I wasn't the type to withhold emotions and to keep my feelings in check, but I have weathered some violent emotional storms and have always managed to regroup and put myself back on the front lines. Faith was my weapon. I have always prided myself on being able to believe in the goodness of myself and those around me long enough to feel inspired towards reclaiming an optimistic perspective.

Well, after the year I've had, I'm not sure how I can manage to feel good about things anymore.

Leah is the first thing that came to mind as a reason for this attitude. Amy was another. Relationships with women seem to be the diving board into a pool of metaphorical shit to me. Whenever I think I've found a great person to be with and things are looking well with us -- the rug gets pulled out from under my feet and I'm right back to where I started. Alone. Single. And wanting.

Wanting. Needing? These are two different words, but deconstructing their meaning is illuminating. Want stems from desire, while need comes from necessity. Now.. Who is one to say what is needed and what is desired? Certainly you could argue that food is a necessity and love is a desire. But.. without the totality of universal knowledge and confirmation of our spirituality; we can only surmise what a human being requires and what it desires.

The sad reality, is that love is not a necessity. There are apparently people out there that have no interest in being in love. People that live in caves. People that are interested only in fulfilling their carnal desires. People that care more about money..

So.. love is not a need.

I feel a little choked admitting this truth to myself. Writing these thoughts down is like acknowledging the knife stuck in my heart. It's.. a personal torture for me to confess that it feels like I've given up on finding love.

I know it's not what I should do. I know I shouldn't be thinking this way. But I do. I am.

How much of what happened this year with Amy and Leah is my fault? This is the question that kills me most. What did I do wrong? And... my heart is telling me that I really didn't do anything wrong. But.. I still feel responsible. I KNOW I am responsible for things being the way they are. And how they've played out.

No matter the situation, every person has the choice to react the way THEY want to. That is the most basic right of every human being on this planet. We CHOOSE how we FEEL. Reading Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning" only solidifies this thought. That no matter the situation, the torture either physically, mentally or spiritually.. We ALWAYS have this choice to decide how to feel about it.

Reading between the lines, I realize that this choice turns reality on it's head. In order to believe in the idea of hope, an illusion must be crafted. Which in turn can mean that a lie is needed in order to facilitate the desired attitude.

A lie.

Deception.

This is what bothers me most. To accept that we live in a world built on illusions. A world that runs off of lies. A world that is really very much subjective to the perception of each individual. That "life is what we make it". That the construct of the ego imposes a fictitious outlook on an given situation when filtered through our value systems.

Without such illusions, society would collapse. Mankind would fall. There would be little purpose in living other than to survive if one cannot construct a compelling enough illusion to motivate themselves effectively.

Reality is what we make it. This is a truth.

So, why can't I accept and construct the necessary illusions for me to find meaning and purpose in living?

I don't know. A lost of faith, I guess.

This knowledge in particular, maybe.

Living this much time alone and apart from others tends to heighten one's powers of observation. From this, I've grown uncomfortable with the idea of pretending. Of lying to myself.

An example would be to believe that I will find "the one" someday.

After all I've gone through in 2011, I don't know how it's going to be possible for me to hope again.

Let's start with the re-cap:

January to March I was with Kim. A relationship purely based on sex, to which was her idea to begin with. From this, I learned that great sex does not necessarily mean great emotion or love for the other person involved. I had also learned, that loving myself is the greatest aphrodisiac of all. Not in a narcissistic way, but in a "I'm comfortable, content and hopeful" way.

Later in April, I met Ashley. She was the shyest most quietest person I've dated. I remember reading her OkCupid profile and seeing things like: "waitress at a coffee shop" (Tim Hortons) and "writer" (less than a page of badly constructed nothingness). When we met at the movie theatre to watch Insidious, I felt my ego take charge. I did all the talking, the joking around, the teasing and it was nice hearing her laugh. But.. she hardly contributed anything to the relationship. I was hoping the sex might be good, but I ended up apologizing because of how reluctant she appeared going along with it, despite her assurances that she wanted to. I then later broke up, saying that I have a hard time with our conversations and that I couldn't see us going long-term. She got angry when I said that she's a really nice person.. I guess that's something other guys have also told her when they broke up. I felt like such an asshole after all this.. I shouldn't have slept with her. I shouldn't have gone past the second date knowing that she wasn't going to open up easily and that she was too young and inexperienced to have an identity of her own. 

I went out on a date with an older woman named Deanna that month. Nothing came of it and I wasn't interested in pursuing her and neither was she.

In April, I dated Slavie. She was a huge fan of science-fiction and loved Stargate SG-1. We met up at West Edmonton Mall and ugh.. nothing there. In fact, it was so uncomfortable hearing her wax ecstatic about some actor that she had met from the show. And then hearing her discuss her idea of starting up a Stargate convention in Edmonton. Stories of her past conventions and.. ugh.. I don't mind it when someone is passionate about something, but when she says I, Robot is the best Science-fiction film she's seen, and called Gattaca "okay" then there's problems. Apparently even the Matrix isn't as good as I, Robot. This to me is a deal-breaker. I don't mean to be pretentious about it but her tastes are much too superficial for me to feel comfortable accepting.

Dated Robin, she seemed very standoffish and .. different. After our first date, she agreed to a second and then changed her mind prompting me to badger her about not being emotionally forthcoming. I'm such an idiot.

Beverly was next, after I was all like "I'm tired of dating". She and I met at the zoo, and I was pretty sure she might be a transvestite given how deep her voice was. But I didn't notice an adam's apple. The best thing about our awkward date was the kiss we exchanged at the end. I don't know why I jokingly pursed my lips to meet hers, but it was nice to give her one. After that, we never saw each other again.

Vanessa was a girl who worked out of town for weeks on end. That one didn't go past the first date.

Nadine was a big one. At first she was resistent to talking with me on eHarmony, then she opened up and we had some great conversations. Then she scheduled a meet up with me that I accidentally slept through, and apparently her disappointment was such that she refused to meet me after that.

Courtney was another from eHarmony that I got along well through text. I was pushing for something physical with us and she seemed interested enough to come meet me at my house. She did, and I guess there was no chemistry there.

July had me going for a short while with Michelle. The playwright with big hair who wanted an open relationship. That only lasted for a bit until I realized it was a shitty way of being. Receiving a text from her saying, "I'm getting fucked in the ass tonight. Can't wait!" after asking her how her Calgary trip went, well.. that was all it took for me to stop texting her.

Shannan, the single mom I had dated in September was pushy about my not "talking enough" in our first meet up in Fort Sask. That didn't work out and it wasn't entirely my fault either. Her going through personal issues with her soon-to-be-ex husband didn't help matters.

Chantelle.. a mistake. Good text chemistry, not much else.

Amy.. whatever.. that story has been written on here already.

Amanda.. one date. One kiss.

Leah.. I can't even discuss her. My gut churns thinking about that relationship.

I can't even.. write this blog. What's the point?

I wish I could care enough to go into more detail. But I don't. Not now anyways.

I think the best thing that happened to me this year was NaNoWriMo. I managed to write a ton and it was a fun experience, but I don't care enough to try and finish the book I'm working on.

I got a new kitten, and I can't feel excited enough to talk about him.

I've lost my faith.

I need to find a reason for being.

I need to take time to think.

Maybe I should just let go. To just be.. but, I'm so tired of trying. Of trying not to try. It's just a circle looping onto itself.

The harder I try, the worst the fall.

Leah.. I miss you. And I don't.

Amy.. I miss you. And I don't.

You two killed what little faith I've had in relationships.

It just reminds me that maybe the purpose of my life is to make hypocrites of people.

I don't know.

I don't care.

Happy 2012.

I am a shitty human being

Looking over my blog and clicking at random posts, I've come to the realization that I suck.

I suck.

And I don't have a sense of humility within me.

There's a block that exists within my mind, that makes me egotisical, arrogant, self-centered.

I'm sick of reading about how much I want to find true love.

I'm sick of reading the posts where I ramble on mindlessly like I know what I'm talking about.

I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself, or trying too hard to write something funny.

Sure, being a character can make for interesting stories, but this is not the kind of person I want to be.

It feels like I'm missing something. Something important about myself that I haven't yet realized or been made aware of. But everyone else understands it on some level that escapes my understanding.

Maybe I'm just dumb. Or maybe it's something else. Maybe I'm over confident. Cocky. Insincere.

Whatever it is, I don't like it.

Am I commenting on my true self, or am I becoming aware of a flaw that must be overcome?

One of the things that I think it might be, is that I don't stop to consider my words very well. I don't put too much thought into the things that I say. In some of my posts, I feel like I'm expressing high school humor. In others, I feel excessively melodramatic that it erodes whatever it is I'm writing about. Like, it's not as sincere when it's delivered in a "know-it-all" tone.

I agree with that. I think that's what it is.

I don't "think" enough. I need to.. tap into my essence more. Into my true feelings.

Something is being masked here. I'm certain of it. Some kind of deficiency.

Insecurity is probably what it is.

I'm insecure. Unsure.

So.. this would be a trust issue I'm dealing with.

One that involves myself. And what I'm capable of.

That makes sense.

I have to think about this some more...

I need to change.

volition

The night is quiet at two in the morning. A lone motorcycle in the distance can be heard. It is cold in my room, but I only have myself to blame for that because I’m laying here, without a blanket and wearing only a thin pair of pajamas and a t-shirt.

My thoughts turn to Leah, the woman that killed what was left of my faith in humanity. I think of making her a mix cd, but decide against it yet I still move songs around on the iPod, putting them in the best order I can. My intent is probably to create a listening experience to mirror the short time we spent together. To encapuslate it. A kind of audio photograph for lack of a better description.

A breath leaves my body, making me feel uncomfortable to be made aware of. It’s a strange sensation to notice, something that I do thousands of times each day, yet alien just the same.

I think of my soul. How corrupted it is. How.. dirty it is. Not to say that it has been marred by acts of immorality, although it has -- but the dirt, the dirt of a life lived in fear, doubt, mistrust, hopelessness. It stains me in a way that makes me ashamed to get up out of bed each morning, and hesitant to sleep, for fear that I will not awake if I do.

On my right hand, is a hairband that I have found years ago. One summer, I was seized by the inexplicable urge to collect stray hairbands whenever I would spot one laying on the ground. In my suitcase, there is a pocket containing dozens of these things. All shapes and sizes, from the smallest loop that barely would fit around two fingers, to ones that glitter in the sunlight. At the moment, I am wearing an inconspicuous black one that is partly frayed, I suspect it is only a matter of time before it snaps.

The sound of traffic reaches my ears once again. Penetrating through deaf ears that are rested upon pillows, oblivious to the world. Ears that laid alone, or with other ears, attached to bodies that pressed close against one another.

Ears, like mine, are destined to be forever alone.

But I shouldn’t think that. As haggard and frayed my soul is, much like the hairband, it still refuses to give up. It still believes in something greater than myself. Something more. Something I have yet to experience, but I know on an intuitive level that it is approaching. For a long time, I used to think that such a feeling could only be called hope.

After Leah, I am not quite sure if it is hope I’m experiencing.

Or a delusion of my own making.

The loneliness weighs heavily on me. My faith is wavering. My trust is gone. My words are empty and without meaning. Everything I see, hear and do, feels like an exercise in futility. Like I am miming or mimicking the correct way to behave, knowing that at the end of the day, I will be in bed, tired and alone.

Alone.

Typing the word scares me a little. “Alone.” I say it out loud, my voice carrying a tone of sincerity. I say it again and it almost seems like a shirt hanging on the rack at a clothing store that I am considering to try on. Alone. Alone. Alone. I repeat, wondering if it suits me.

It does not. It never has.

My biggest flaw, is that I tend to live for others and not for myself. I don’t generate my own happiness very well when I am without a relationship. I need a projection, a defined individual for me to live my life for. Someone that occupies my thoughts, and I in turn. I call it my biggest flaw, simply because it’s not the right way for a person to live. To live in service or worship of another. True happiness is entirely dependent on how an individual perceives their present state of being. If they are content, then happiness results. If they lack, then sadness.

Lack. I murmur the word, feeling my tongue touch the roof of my mouth, trying it on.

It suits me well.

But lack, that could be considered an expression of discontent. One does not truly lack, as long as air enters their lungs. One lacks only when the ego is simply saying: “I want more than this.”

The ego. My arch-nemesis. I am torn between the things that I want and the things that I think I would need.

And I wonder, do I truly need them? I would like to say yes, I do, but I can’t be sure if I would feel complete once I acquire them.

I am unsure if I would start to become whole.

Just because, what I want and what I need; are two different things. One, is what I consciously desire, the other only serves to confuse rather than illuminate my understanding, simply because I am unable to really know what it is I must need. Air, water, food, shelter, clothing. Those are the basics. Relationships, wealth, power, prestige. Those are harder to determine.

Many years ago, while working at a job I hated, I used to tell myself that the only way to get to Heaven was to go through Hell. It made sense at the time, because greater appreciation comes from being given what you once lacked. Or perceive as lacking. Appreciation is an expression of gratitude. It is a certain type of satisfaction that can only arise from the lack thereof. A million dollars is not appreciated nearly as much by one who has billions than it would be to a transient who is living homeless on the street. Contrast is how we define the things we appreciate and identify what we lack, or desire more of.

There can be no darkness, if there is always light. There can be no suffering, if there is only joy. There can be no cruelty if there is only compassion.

And so forth. The contrast has to be there before a distinction can be made and a judgement earned.

This gets me wondering. Suffering, joy, cruelty, compassion are elements of behaviour and emotion. Suffering, is to experience a profound sense of discomfort, physically, mentally or spiritually. Joy, is the antonym of suffering. Compassion is the act of bestowing sympathy without selfish intentions involved, otherwise it would then be called pity. Cruelty, is the direct or indirect act of behaving with maliciousness towards another person, it is the opposite of compassion. The reason why I mentioned indirect, is that cruelty has many facets, but it all comes down to what the intention behind the action is.

The more I think about such things, the more I begin to understand what evil truly is. It is not cruelty, maliciousness, hate, bigotry or selfishness; it is all and none of those things. When you distill evil and break it down to it’s very basic form, you end up with a surprising result.

Ignorance.

To be evil, is to be ignorant.

Deliberately ignorant. Even unintentional ignorance, could be construed as an evil way of being.

Ignorance and indifference. Both require a conscious decision to make. When one chooses to ignore the plight of another, it is a choice that is being made. This does not necessarily mean action must be taken. It does not require any effort to be compassionately complacent and to keep a clear conscience.

But it is a decision that I find I must make.

When my heart swells at the sight of a beggar and I do not give any aid or assistance, that is not indifference. Nor is it ignorance.

When another person wrinkles their nose in disgust, and produces some pocket change; that is ignorance and pity working in tandem.

The difference between the two appears clear. Both are decisions. They may not have been consciously decided upon, but they are choices nonetheless.

I have made the choice.

History is full of examples of people demonstrating that the things we presume that we need, are inessential. There is a curiosity aimed towards those who remain celibate for many years by choice, or go without eating meat, or are content to live in a cave. Examples abound of people living meaningful lives without having to need certain things.

So then, is it a choice? It is. So what causes us to feel lack? Our egos. Our assumptions that we need certain things. They are assumptions, make no mistake about it.

What is it that we truly need? Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs suggest the very basics:

Food, water, sex, breathing, excretion, homeostasis and sleep.

I do dispute listing sex as a basic need, however.

Up the level, once those needs are met, we then have the need for security. That we can be assured of our future survival. Our health, employment, food, wealth and so on. Reasonable.

Then comes friends, family and sexual intimacy. Very curious that Maslow would list sex again, as a third-level need.

Self esteem, confidence, respect of others and yourself. That’s the next level.

At the very top lies morality, creativity, spontaneity, problem solving, lack of prejudice and acceptance of facts. Again, those are apparently crucial needs.

What is interesting to me, is that Maslow has forgotten the most important need of all.

Purpose. We need to have direction in our lives. To go towards a goal. Whether it’s securing your property, or having sex; we all need to strive towards something. Purpose should be right at the bottom, alongside water and sleep. A life lived without purpose, is not a life at all.

The very top of this pyramid, listing morality and such, have to do with self-actualization. The fulfillment of your purpose. Or the expression thereof of striving towards it, so I suppose it is accounted for.

But what of those who have not discovered their purpose? How is one to achieve their fullest potential when they are unsure of what to do?

That’s the puzzle. You cannot be given purpose, you decide upon it. What prompts a decision to move towards a specific endeavour? Your personal sense of worth, your values, your interests, goals, notions of morality, values.. All of these add up.

Still, parlaying one’s potential into making a living is not an easy thing to achieve. Most people do not end up the way they’ve imagined themselves to. Dreams are dashed and many choose to accept something less in exchange for something more.

Usually, this comes in the form of security. A well paying job and a family to look after beats out deciding to become a writer, or a farmer. There are risks involved and for many, the less the better.

I’m not sure where this tangent will take me to, but it seems like I’m approaching some level of clarity in just typing this.

Maybe, it’s all about risk. How far are you willing to go, to achieve your dream? What would it take to get to where you want to be? And can you sacrifice everything in order to make it come true?

Maybe that’s the answer. Assuming you have a strong interest pointed in a specific direction...

A writer must write. Constantly. He must love language, stories and is able to feel passionate about what he does, when he does it. He must know the rules of writing, using correct grammar, punctuation, spelling, et cetera.

It all comes down to how determined you are. How many successful people exist who can claim that they didn’t really work hard to get to where they are at? I’m sure exceptions exist for those born with a silver spoon in their mouth, but for the most part, it truly is up to the individual to achieve their ends.

But.. How far is one willing to go? How much is one willing to sacrifice?

I think the answer is clear.

Everything.

Done

...for now.

picking up the pieces

It's been twelve days since I entered NaNoWriMo -- an annual challenge to aspiring writers to complete a novel in thirty days. Or less. 50k is the expected word count, which translates to about 1,300 words per day I'm guessing.

At the moment, my attempt titled: "Puer Aeternus: The Electric Messiah" not only has an intriguing name, but a plot as well. Rather than spoil anything (even to myself) by describing what I have in store (and what will end up surprising me as I go along) -- I can only say that this is the most exciting test of my writing abilities I have ever faced.

So far in 12 days, I've managed to get it up t0 26,000+ words. According to the NaNoWriMo stat engine, I should be on track to completion by November 23rd. Two days before people are expected to sub their novel to verify whether they've reached 50,000 words or not.

Not only am I on track, but I am seeing potential. Potential for this book to become something huge once NaNo packs it's bags and heads out to sunny pastures until next November. The story I've somehow began telling, is mutating grotesquely into something that I think can easily reach 80k if not more, by the time I'm finished with it.

I'm excited with the way I manage to close each chapter with a mini-cliffhanger. I don't like the idea of patting myself on the back, but it's tempting not to when I've looked at what I've done up to this point.

So far, I'm halfway to acquiring a "prize", likely to be a t-shirt and a complimentary icon next to my name on the forums there. Not a big deal, it's not why I'm writing to begin with.

I'm writing to make the world into a better place. Yes, I know. It's a science-fiction novel but it has it's redeeming values, chief among them is the bit of spirituality I've inserted. Teasing the reader into considering questions regarding the nature of God, the definition of a soul and the future that inevitably awaits us all, if we aren't careful.

All that is wrapped snugly in this blanket I've designed. It's fast paced, visceral and lean as hell. I try to make every word count in service of the story I'm telling and so far, I really enjoy the process and hope it will turn out in a way that I can be proud of accomplishing.

==

In other news, Leah. Leah... LEAH.

I .. am .. speechless whenever I think of her. The things she said, how it all turned out and the way I ended up being nothing more than a freak for following through on the things we first talked about. About being honest and generous with our feelings. And after last night with Jerry, I began to realize some truths.

Women don't want TOO MUCH of what they claim to ask for. They want honesty, sure, but not too much of it. They want to be loved, but not too much of it. They want everything, but not too much of it.

They want.. I don't know, authenticity? They can't seem to make their minds up. And with Leah, she was the first person in a long while that I've bared my soul towards. Who I thought bared hers with me.

That was so not the case. I'm feeling bitter these days.. Looking at her pictures once in a while, trying to figure out how I should "act" in a relationship. And whether or not I'd be able to find the woman I'm meant for. And if I already have -- whether or not I can suffer the consequences of my being too desirous of finding true love.

I really don't know how you can tell someone it's "forever" and promises all kind of things, only to recant later on. I don't get it. My faith in humanity feels broken. I don't know how am I going to approach my next relationship. But I do know that being emotionally generous is going to come with a heavy price tag that will need to be earned, not granted immediately from the start.

I hate myself sometimes. Thinking I'm a piece of shit with his mind dreaming of things that he cannot possible hope to achieve. That I'm afraid to face reality and take myself down to the level that most everyone else is at.

When I mentioned that to Leah, she encouraged me not to think that way. "I feel like I should get my head out from the clouds." "No. Don't." Well.. See what happens when I listen to other people when I become honest with my feelings?

I don't get it anymore. I just don't "get" .. "it". Earlier this year I said that being true to myself was the most important thing to strive towards.

I don't know what happened. I thought I kept true, but obviously I didn't. Or it wasn't enough. Or it was too weird, too scary...

Too much.

Being true to myself at this very instant would have me saying:

Fuck this world.

But something .. something is still within me that sheds a tear. Something still "feels" down below.. I haven't killed the part I love about myself most. It's still alive. Barely. But it's there and it's going to need some time before it feels safe enough to appear again.

I just fucking feel broken. But I can't give up hope. I just can't. I have to push. To struggle. To try. To dream. That's who I am. It's who I've always been.

It's who I will be.

Until the day I die.

...

And it's done. Leah and I are finished.

I swear to fucking God someone up there is laughing at me.

I don't know how to act in a relationship anymore, what to do, what to say.

All I did was be as honest as possible. As gentlemanly as I could. As loving as I could give.

And it wasn't enough.

It's NEVER ENOUGH.

I am so sick of dating. Relationships. Throwing my heart out whenever I find someone I enjoy being with and then having it curb-stomped like nothing ever mattered.

I am so fucking sick of this.

I don't know what to do now.

If I can trust anyone again.

How long before I feel optimistic about getting back to dating.

It's all because of her.

The woman you see pictured in the blog post below.

The woman I wanted to love.

Leah.

Fuck you, God.

a puzzle appears

Being with Leah these past few days, have really got me to thinking about what love is.

What is it? How can it be properly described? What should one expect when "in love" with another person?

Are there different types of love? Certainly. Romantic, friendly, benevolent, platonic love..

But, what does Leah and I have?

I'll admit to feeling honestly confused at the moment. My depiction of love involves PDA, lots of smiles, hand holding, kisses, sex, affection, bright gleaming eyes between the two of us.

And.. with Leah, I don't know where I stand.

She is the love of my life, but it's not what I quite expected it to be.

I'm thinking at the moment, that I may not be living up to her expectations. And I hate that. I hate waking up next to her in bed and not being able to properly hear her through a sleepy voice. I hate having to pretend like I understand exactly everything she's telling me.

I dislike reaching for her, stroking her hair, running my hand down her body and not really getting as much of it in return.

Am I greedy? Pushy? Selfish? Ordinarily I would admit to being overly affectionate, but when we aren't connecting properly on an emotional level because of my hearing (and my stuffed up ears, which really doesn't help) .. I get scared thinking that I am going to lose her if I keep this up.

These pretenses. Pretending like I can hear and appreciate every word she's saying.

I hate that. I hate it so much.

This woman confessed her love for me before we even met. As have I. We've pledged our dedication to one another, again -- before us having met and our texts are still going along seamlessly.

But I can't help but wonder if this is enough. I don't think it is. I want real love.. Genuine, heartfelt love. And I want to feel convinced by it. I need her to say I love you out of the blue to me first, instead of me saying it. I want her to be excited by me, without really having to try.

And the big thing in all this is, why does she love me? How loyal will she end up being to me? And I to her?

I love her so much. I could not have asked for a better person to spend the rest of my life with.

But something inside of me is tearing itself apart. My expectations and my inability to really be the man I want to be when I am with her.

The man she deserves to be with.

I am trying. I am trying my hardest and I don't want this to fail. By God, I can't allow this to fail. How often does an opportunity like this come by? To be loved unconditionally? Even if it doesn't quite meet up to what I expect from it.

I have to try. I must try. I need to find a way.

I'm going to have to consider hearing aids. I really do. I think it's at that point where I cannot function well without them.

And I need to write. Write my freakin' ass off. If I am able to work towards a career that will enable me to do what I love for a living. To be able to provide Leah with the things I would like her to have.

A remodelled bathroom, for one :)

Maybe a nicer house.

I just want her to be happy. Until the end of her days. Or mine. Whichever comes first.

I don't want to annoy her with my snoring. My smoking. My rumbling stomach while we sleep. My hearing.

I don't want to be anything but the best I can be when I am with her.

I hope I don't fail in this.

I WILL not fail in this.

Hearing test next week. I need to see what my options are.

God. Please be on my side with this.

I owe you one.

words do not suffice

My life is forever changed.

Because of Leah.

the fun rolls on

Last night was terrible. It really was. Meeting Amanda for the first time, really put into perspective how sick I am of dating.

The first truly crazy girl I've ever met.

There was trouble the moment we sat down at Red Robins and she would talk so godawfully loud that people were looking at us. She's a bartender at a busy Whyte Avenue bar. So it figures.

Then the revelations. How she treated her ex-boyfriend. What she is looking for in a relationship. Divulging that she is on anti-depressants and smokes weed on a daily basis. Doesn't own a car. Looks almost nothing like her eHarmony photo. The list goes on.

But I sucked it up. I treated her with as much respect as I could. I joked. I teased. I smiled. I hugged. I paid for dinner and didn't tuck tail and run, five minutes into meeting her.

I even kissed her when I dropped her off. It didn't matter to me that this girl was a headcase to the nth degree; I just felt like making someone happy.

And the kiss was really good. I smooth talked myself into it and briefly thought about us having sex afterwards (but really REALLY didn't want to) and.. the kiss was a real surprise for me.

It was about ten minutes of making out. And despite how unattractive she was, I really enjoyed it.

I left feeling good about myself. And I know she did as well.

I even texted her after, saying "you forgot your tonsils in the car" .. We did a little back and forth and I closed with, "that was a really good kiss :) thanks." Haven't heard from her since.

I guess she knew I wasn't interested without my having to say it. I don't care to find out her reasons or to pursue her for anything else, either.

In response to an earlier post, where I discussed putting up a topic entitled "most confusing new relationship ever. Help!" on Reddit; I had a couple of people write me direct emails that I've been keeping a correspondence with.

One guy in particular, named Guido -- Claims to be the relationship expert. He's read a lot of material about having to keep a woman, attracting them, how a man should act, etc. His comment history is a well-intentioned glossary of advice that he's dispensed in the r/relationships sub-Reddit.

So, I appreciated him being interested in my situation and asked him a simple question. I'll post his last email and my response here:

FROM GUIDO:

Sorry for taking so long to get back to you. After Thanksgiving I kind of forgot about this >^

I've always played with the idea of some side business that does relationship coaching for men, but I've never really put much effort behind it. I doubt you live in Montreal though :P If you do know of any potential clients, send them my way :D

The first step you need to take is accept the fact that as you are right now, you're terrible and you need help. This doesn't mean you're hopeless, it just means you have a lot of work to do. This is nothing to be ashamed of. Guys today don't have Cary Grant, they have Justin Bieber. Guys just don't know how to act like guys anymore and women aren't attracted to the emotional metro-sexual. You need to walk in to this with the mentality that 'I know nothing' otherwise you'll start challenging ideas based on what you think you 'know' when in reality you're very wrong. You trust your ego and your emotions and these two things hurt you constantly when it comes to romance. Once you get a set of tools, things will start to make sense. Until then a lot of the concepts that I'm going to get you to read will seem foreign to you, but they will start to make sense very quickly.

Step two: start reading everything. There is a ton of stuff on the internet and most of it's garbage. You need to start reading all of it so you start to get a picture of what it is guys are doing, good or bad. Be wary of selling tactics and tactics that prey on your emotions or feelings of insecurity. You can break all this down into 3 parts: basic interactions, relationship, sex.

Basic interactions: this is how you flirt and interact with a girl of interest. You need to start reading about techniques guy's use to flirt with girls and pick and practice the ones that feel right for you. The PUA stuff is great to get you started and I strongly recommend a book called 'the game'. The problem with the PUA stuff though, is it's just a guy putting on a scripted show. When he runs out of material, the show's over and the girl gets bored and leaves. A PUA doesn't care because he goes and gets girl #351 while failing to realize he's going to be single for life. The important part of all this is to learn how all this crap that they're doing is working. What is it about that scripted story they're saying is captivating the girl? Why are they wearing that outrageous hat? All these things are important. Do your best to look at it from a girl's perspective.

Relationship: There is no one better to read than this guy: http://ca.askmen.com/dating/doclove/ Read everything he's written - all 763 (and counting) articles and I'd buy his book. When reading the articles, start trying to predict his advice.

Sex: I can't help you out much here because to be honest, I don't know how to teach it. I'm lucky enough to be a guy that just 'gets' it. Read 'Pandora's Box' which you can find off a torrent. It will help you identify what kind of girl you've got and how to connect with her properly. Just try and focus on her and not yourself. If she has fun, you'll have fun ^_^

Hope this helps.

And here is what I wrote back:

FROM DAVE

Ugh.. I appreciate hearing from you after so long, but.. You advocate the PUA approach to relationships? I kind of lost a little respect after hearing that.

Because, look. (I've read the Game, as well as other PUA championed resources before) These methods, while effective -- do not enable a meaningful relationship that is not based on deception.

You pretend to be something you are not. The best side of yourself, which may include being emotional, sensitive, loving and caring; is FORCED to have a blanket thrown over and kept hidden from view. Because, chicks don't dig vulnerable guys. According to the PUA community.

They do fall for the "appearance" of a vulnerable guy -- who is often just a puppet acting out lines in his script and throws tidbits of "I cry during this movie" and being overly interested in pets, when they really are anything but.

You're giving me advice on how to get laid. I don't need or want to get laid. It takes a certain mindset to make that the sole focus of your life, and it reflects poorly on your character if you feel that an orgasm should be the highest priority. At least when it comes to new relationships.

That is the PUA method. The Mystery Method. The Game. NLP. Dating coaches. What have you. Their ultimate message is:

"Don't be yourself! It doesn't work!" .. And I can't bring myself to accepting that. Because I am a pretty awesome guy, who deserves someone just as sensitive and loving as I can be.

I'm not just looking to get my dick wet. There's more to life than fucking girls.

And that I believe, truly separates the men from the boys. If you have to live your life each day, manipulating your girlfriend or wife into thinking you're this complete alpha-male macho guy when you really are not; it's going to bite you in the ass later on. I guarantee it.

But in the meantime, you can continue to enjoy thinking that you're the ladies man and that any girl is putty in your hands. The only differences between you and I, is that I don't aspire towards being anything other than who I really am. I understand we both have similar interests, but very different philosophies on achieving what we both want out of life.

And really, happiness is all that we seek. I however, won't sell my soul to gain anything by manipulating others. You would -- and already have. I am not judging you negatively on this, but I feel compelled to point out the immaturity that your post exhibited when I asked you to "teach me" the ways of being successful in a relationship.

Will those methods work? Sure. But faking confidence is not the same thing as BEING confident. Faking honour is not the same as actually having it. Faking sincerity.. well, now that's just lying. Both to yourself and the girl involved. If you feel comfortable saying things you think she wants to hear, by all means, continue along with it. But if you are like me, and wish not to be anything but the best YOU can be without having to put up a front; then you will not feel at all happy about having to pretend to be something you are not.

I think the whole PUA community and relationship gurus miss the real point of what they are doing. It's not about getting laid. Or picking up 10s. Or negging your way into some girl's pants. It's about facilitating a connection between yourself and someone you are interested in getting to know. But it's layered with deceit. Some of it is practical, as in how to have a conversation. Other things like negging; are outright manipulative.

So.. The real question is, get laid? Or get with a real woman who loves you for who you are.

I'm opting for the latter.

Appreciate the advice. I'll look into that Pandora's Box you mentioned. But Dr. Love annoys the hell out of me with his "as my cousin in .. my brother in... would say" bits of faked anecdotal advice. I bet you all that guy cares about is making money. It wouldn't surprise me to know that he's probably in a failed or failing relationship himself.

Those that can't do, teach.

Thanks anyways. Take care.

I think I said the right things to him. No. I DID say the right things. That is how I feel about relationships and I don't want to pretend otherwise.

I am sick of pretending. I am tired of being disappointed. I am weary of trying.

So, maybe I should just be.

And let the right girl find me.

I still think of Lauren.. Tina.. the two girls I've earnestly said "I love you" to. And it's sad. It's not healthy revisiting the past. I've learned from my mistakes already, and there's no need to impose upon myself any more heartache than I have already experienced.

I am going to let it be.

I am going to be me.