I had no concept of just how much the whole J thing bothered me until I heard back from him yesterday. Having gotten answers to some of my questions and having left a piece of my frustrations with him, I can quit worrying about the why and the how and the little ins and outs of my mangled heart and figure out why it got so mangled in the first place.

Interestingly enough, I didn't physically freak out when J and I split. Nowhere near like I did when M and I split just 4 short months earlier. I kept eating. I didn't cry much. I did start doubling and tripling my time at the gym to more than three hours a day on some days, and I did jump back into school with a vengeance, and I did start joking about it incessantly (to the point of threatening to make a t-shirt reading "I got dumped for a PS2"). So the amusing question becomes, why did I mentally choke at the end of a barely-100-day fling when I handled the close of a 15-month relationship better? My opinion runs back to timing, timing, timing. M and I met under very relaxed circumstances, comparatively. Yes, I was trying to figure out my life at the time, and really, when am I not? But my emotional life was stable at the time. However, when did I meet J? 9 days after M broke up with me, on the first day that I forced myself out of the house, in fact. In those interim days, I had decided that I needed a damn break from men (ha ha fucking ha) and that I had a very different set of ideals to look for once I did take up the romance thing again.

Lo and behold, J met every single one (barring emotional stability and a relative lack of baggage, but I didn't find out about all that until later), we had the best possible time together, and though I resisted the amorous nature of his advances at first, I fell. Hard. Dammit. And the moment I did, he pulled away and proceeded to cut off all communication. Knowing him a little better after yesterday, I understand that his actions weren't personal, but at the time I took them very personally. I had let him in at my most emotionally vulnerable state, which I consider a major risk, and I had lost the gamble utterly. I think that's what stung the most. Couple that fact with a complete lack of resolution on the matter, and I became a wreck. Not only had I gotten hurt, but I had no way to better understand, and therefore heal.

Having sorted through at least some of the mess with J yesterday, I feel better overall. Very pensive, I still have a lot of stuff to think about, but better nonetheless. J has a lot of growing to do, however. Though I held my tongue while we were on the phone, he did say one thing which absolutely inflamed me. We were joking about dating in the time we weren't talking, and I said "For some reason I keep meeting all these 20-year-olds, and it's like, what the hell! I can't even take you to a bar!" and he said "That's why you take them home, get them liquored up there, and show em how it's done!" or something equally what-the-hell-ever. Like physical relationships mean nothing to me. All I said in reply was, "I'm so not like that."

That might explain why, the last time I went in for an appointment and the lab tech announced that my pregnancy test was negative, I replied, "Well, duh. I hardly think I'm a good candidate for immaculate conception."

Either way, that comment stung. I know he was joking, but still.

In the end, we decided that friendship is feasible (at least in theory, as we haven't put it into practice yet) and hung up amicably. I do like the kid. A lot. Which, considering the pain of the last few months, I don't entirely understand. However, I trust him with my emotional well-being about as far as I can throw a SCUD missile (which thankfully isn't very far). I've grown a lot since I met him, and he deserves quite a bit of credit for that, so don't get me wrong, but little acts of treason take the longest to mend.

One more thing I have learned is that I do love M, but I don't know quite what that means. Emotional matters weighing heavily on me last night, I told him that. He laughed, gave me a hug, and told me that was perfect.
braindump details: April G. 9:32 AM

An interesting thought I ran across today while poring over the cliff's notes for Lord of the Flies -

"Cynicism is the result of increased experience and decreased optimism."

Having been picking apart my own cynicism lately trying to figure out just why I feel the way I do about the chances of love, success and happiness in my present and future as a function of my past, I can't sum it all up any better than that.

And yes, I know cliff's notes are a cheap way out, but how else am I supposed to pass the CLEP in under a month when I haven't read 80% of the books on the reading list, I ask you?! It seems like a reasonable solution to me.

In the immortal words of the great Dave Wallis, "D equals Diploma!!"

Sing it, brother!

I don't give a shit how I attain credits (which do go on my transcript but don't affect my GPA, by the way), as long as I get em without killing myself in the process. Graduation, here I come!
braindump details: April G. 10:13 PM

I don't know just how ready I am to get into the events of this past week. I know all of my loved ones are accounted for (with one exception, who will notify me when he is ready). I gave blood on Tuesday, a 7-hour process from arrival to sign-in to the actual donation. I left from 5 pm to 9 pm, about the time the drive closed its doors to newcomers. When I walked back in just before 9, I sought out the dude with the clipboard to find out how long I still had to wait. I found him surrounded by several irate individuals who wanted a spot on the list right then. The gentleman tried repeatedly to inform them that by turning them away, he was only doing his job, and that they could call tomorrow to set up appointments to give blood. One woman in particular continued to hound him very aggressively, with the others backing her up. Okay, this pisses me off. What the hell, man? The guy's just a volunteer trying to give of himself in a time of crisis. He doesn't need this smack. So, being the consummate little diplomat that I am, I spoke up. "GUYS! What the hell happened in our country today? Some group of crazed rodents with cold feet flew three of our jetliners into key buildings and a fourth into a field. Now, why do you suppose they did that?"

A chorous of ad libbed mumbling from the peanut gallery.

"They attacked our country out of HATE. And, as a result, we are all here to give something of ourselves to help our fellow americans. This man is here giving his time, and you are here to give your blood, theoretically out of LOVE; however, you're being very hateful to this good man. HATE is what got us into this mess in the first place, so SPREAD THE LOVE, BITCH!!"

You have never seen so many shocked looks in your life. I think, judging by the way they scurried away without a word, that I put some fear into those people's hearts, not the least of whom being the guy with the clipboard. This dude was easily six-foot-four and black, and I knew just by looking at his expression that he was thinking, roughly, "My guardian angel is short, white, female, and has a vocabulary to rival any sailor. Who woulda thought!"

It made my day. I cannot tell you. I took my blood donor shirt home, and attacked it with a sharpie. Under the logo, it reads
"9-11-2001"
"Spread the love, bitch!"
braindump details: April G. 10:02 PM

The World Trade Center and the Pentagon have come under attack. People are dead and dying. Palestinians are claiming responsibility, then denying responsibility, and all the while celebrating in the streets. There is a flight missing from D/FW to LA | X. Everything is shutting down - cities, government buildings, the UN, airports, even Disney World. All domestic and international flights out of the US are grounded, and all incoming international flights have been re-routed to Canada. A friend in the NSA has pointed out to me the significance of today's date (as I was plowing through the History Channel looking for a middle eastern jihad or domestic bombing of that area or other significant event on this date) - 9/11. 911 Emergency. Her theory is that Palestine is trying to get the US to quit supplying Israel with weapons by shock value on 911. I have one question - WHY IN HELL ARE WE INVOLVED IN A 2000-YEAR-OLD WAR IN THE MIDDLE EAST??! Are we fucking STUPID?? Okay, dumb question. Of course we are. The US thinks we're the world's watchdog, and we are to some degree, but we should keep our wits about us and be so only on the defensive unless we ourselves or our closest allies are being attacked. There is no sense in entangling ourselves in an ongoing religious conflict which in no way involves us directly. Religious conflicts are generally bad news anyway - we should know this from the crusades. Fuzzy Fucking Bunnies. What is going to happen now?
braindump details: April G. 11:24 AM

Here we have ... an ode to my ex-roommate, circa early to mid May of this year. Enjoy.

"My mind is a knife
Cuts me up, Yeah,
Take a bite but
I can make the pain
Leave me for tonight

I'm a suicidal
Cannibal, baby
I hate how I taste
Even with Sprite to chase
But I can choke me down anyway

I
I see what you're doing
And I
Can feel your motivation
Move between my knees
and I
I hear what you're saying
But I
Can't say my mind's changing
I don't want it
But I let you anyway

The difference between
Today and tomorrow
Comes mixed in a shot
One less thought
So hey, can I borrow yours?

I
I see what you're doing
And I
Can feel your motivation
Move between my knees
and I
I hear what you're saying
But I
Can't say my mind's changing
I don't want it
But I let you anyway

I'm not sure
Who you are
What I am
If I can so
Baby drive me home
Drive it home
Nail it home
Cause I won't know,
Not until tomorrow
Oh I can hate me then
I can start all over again, all over again"
braindump details: April G. 4:59 PM

The ratlies did not work out. Mom took one look and absolutely freaked. They have been donated to a lovely woman who breeds rats, and will be well-cared for. Works for me, I don't know what I would have done with 6, anyway. Obviously, though, they were meant to come to me, and I was meant to find them a proper home. Stuff works out that way sometimes.

There are a few different types of drug users in the world - those who go with the occasional chemical enhancement in order to get a little escapism after a long day/week/decade and try not to think about the residual effects; those who yo-yo use for whatever reason (on again, off again, jiggety-jig); and the true chronics - the ones who do it, do it, do it and don't worry about anything else. All have a few things in common besides the chemicals. All are targeted by law enforcement and society in general as being delinquent in some fashion, and all are trying to get away from something. What society in general probably realizes less than law enforcement is just what proportion of the population falls into at least one aforementioned category of users. Think it's just kids? Think your doctor doesn't use? Your lawyer? The guy who pilots the 747 to LA? You're as likely wrong as you are right.

There's something to be said about a society when a good half of the population feels the need for speed (or x, or coke, or vicodin, or xanax, or whatever), and correct me if your opinion differs from mine here, but what it has to say is not exactly sunny. In short, users can't hack some, or maybe all, aspects of their lives, and so attempt to shorten their trip through existence to oblivion with some good times here and there, some forced forgetfulness. Maybe we're not built for ups and downs in the economy, currency exchange rates, inflation, oil embargoes. I'm not sure I can name an alternative state - I know the same world everyone else knows - but does it not seem sensible to conclude that there's something wrong if so many people are so miserable in the perpetual little loops of their lives that they have to alter their chemical states for a few hours' relief? And what are the alternatives to drugs, anyway? God? A cookie-cutter solution, one which seeks to placate rather than enlighten. Sleep? Clinically depressed individuals have had this one figured out for some time, but it's hard to keep up perpetually. Numbness? Popular, and certainly effective, and in fact, encouraged. But not fun. And that's why people do drugs, molest altar boys, beat their spouses and their children, hide out at the gym or the bar - they have no purpose, they can't justify their lives, and so they make others miserable with them. Society doesn't want you to be excited, or boisterous, or happy - it makes you too dangerous. Other drones may see it and want it for themselves, and attempt to break out of their molds. I don't understand it, any of it. I have no answers either, no magic solutions to anyone's purpose, but I do have all the questions. I know what to ask, which may be why I think so much, worry so much, try to internalize my inability to understand instead of using it to the detriment of anyone else.

Maybe all of that is why love is so important in my life. If I can find someone who thinks like me, who will share love and life with me and who is willing to explore these quandaries with me instead of getting messed up or violent or whatever ... if I and another can really understand each other, there must be a reason for both of us to be here. It's not much of an excuse for a purpose, perhaps, but it's enough to keep me going, keep me searching. It's enough that I don't want to give up and write it all off as hopeless. I do not, however, have the advantage of faking myself in my search for the right mate, because I will not settle. I will not take anyone who does not react positively to who I am, or anyone who does not take me with the warts and the beautiful. I will not take anyone who does not think on a similar level as I do. That doesn't mean they have to think the same things that I do, by any means! I do well with mental challenges and different perspectives. It means that I want my thoughts listened to and taken seriously, no matter how errant, no matter how indicative of mood, no matter how unorthodox. A number of people in my life blow off my thoughts and feelings as needless, naive, or unworthy. Maybe they mean well, but it does not help me or anyone else. Someone, SOMEONE, HAS to understand me! I want nothing more than to crawl under a rock and hide for a while, but I can't be alone. Someone has to want the same rock.
braindump details: April G. 4:03 PM

Six new family members are about to be integrated into my life - all female - all rodents. I said I wanted ratlies again. Little did I know I would be adopting six of them! I have been lying awake deciding on names ... Aphrodite, Lilith, Yin, Seraphim, Valhalla and Isis. Such deep pondering accomplished, I may now be able to achieve some shut-eye.

Speaking of rodents, the caffeinated gerbil who runs a wheel in my head at all hours is about to find his happy ass staring down a double-barrel shotgun. Noctournal little fuck.
braindump details: April G. 4:03 AM

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