I said something tonight because it was right to. Because I meant it. I mean it. It's been a long time since I can honestly say I've felt like this, but it's all okay. It's all very good.

Lola looks like she's eaten a golf ball. I think it's a tumor, and I'm sad. Lola's been with me for about as long as I've lived in Chicago, and I'm afraid her time's running out. I hope she's okay, but this is exactly how Sarah's hamster looked before she died...

This is my last semester of college, and I'm expecting an emotional breakdown in the next few months, so everyone be ready.

I'm turning 23 soon. I hate it. I'll be a quarter of a century old soon. How depressing.

I have to move out of my apartment this summer, and I'm worried about where I'm going to move to. I can't leave Chicago. I don't want to, and I'll be losing too much. I need to stay here, for so many reasons.

There's other stupid shit going on too.


But I've got some great friends, and an amazing girlfriend, here for me.
That's the only thing keeping me sane.

Last night a good friend of mine lost her virginity.

I don't know why, but hearing her talk about it made me really sad. I asked her if she regretted it and she said, "I don't know."

I know. I know because every time I ask that question and hear that answer it means the same thing. When you do something, and you can't tell if you're happy about it, it's usually because you're not.

She's not. I'm not just assuming, either.


Keep pouring into the well.
There's room for it all.
I know that now.

I'm in an abusive relationship.

I haven't posted much in the past week and if you've been following my posts you probably know why. Kate's back, and I can honestly say that the last week and a half were some of the best days in my life. I'm kind of taken aback by it all. Kate and I spent almost a week with eachother, 24 hours a day. And there was no fighting, or awkward silences (well, there was one night - but that was due to certain substances, and not because of "us"). I didn't get annoyed with being in such close proximity with her for so long. It just felt so good.

We talk to eachother. Constantly. Showing your entire heart, with all the black spots on it, to someone else is never easy. But somehow she makes it easy.

We were laying in bed talking and I was going on about something I was scared of and she told me she was happy to hear me say that because she sort of viewed me as Superman, that I never really let on to any weakness. That I was almost inhuman. At first that scared me, because when someone views you that way it usually means you need to maintain that untouchable "nothing fazes me" image (or rather, that's how I interpret it). That now that they hold you in such high regard the moment you show how frail you actually are, they'll go running. But it was different with her.

She liked me more because of it.

Christmas break is quickly coming to an end, and while it was something I was looking forward to while sitting home alone on a weekend evening in Aurora, now I dread it. I don't want to go back to responsibilities and work. Assignments. Writing, videos. Living real life. I want to be in that bed with her. Talking into the early blue light of a new day. Sleeping in with her under my arm. Waking up and being perfectly happy to watch her sleep. Feeling a warm body against me and being unable to tell where I end, and she begins.

You know what I hate?

When you completely, irrefutably, prove someone wrong - and they don't acknowledge their error. Or worse yet, defend their error as being somehow right in spite of it being wrong. That is, they acknowledge they were wrong - but think they were right in doing it.

This girl posted a bulletin on myspace informing all her Friends that the Swiffer Wet Jet is toxic to animals - that is, cats and dogs specifically. This is, of course, completely fals. Which is more often than not the case with these internet chain mail and bulletins. I've learned that anything that demands you forward it to everyone you know, and makes you feel guilty if you don't, is complete bullshit. And this was nothing different.

So I politely, privately, messaged her and informed her that it was an urban legend that had since been proved false. I cited the relevant Snopes.com link and thought that'd be the end of it. This was her reply:

yeah youre the second person to tell me that
but i'd rather people be aware, than not.

Be aware of what? Be aware that the swiffer wet jet is going to kill their animals? When it's NOT? What the fuck?

God, I really despise that kind of thinking. That's the best word I can use. Despise. Paraphrasing someone smarter than I, "Evil is to know what is right, and do otherwise." That's what that shit is. You know you're wrong, then defend the wrongness. Geniune ignorance I can tolerate. Deliberate ignorance, I cannot.

Bullshit.

Gizmo's headed for the pound.

I hate it.

It's funny when song lyrics hit really close to home and the words that the artists say sound almost exactly like a dialogue you've exchanged with a friend or lover. Something you've thought to yourself many times. Spoken out loud, but said it to no one.

Kate told me the song "Between the Bars" by Elliot Smith reminds her of me. I don't know entirely what she means by that. That is, if I am saying the words to her or she is saying the words to me. I suppose it could go either way. Maybe we both have people we were before that we don't want to remember. Or people we knew before we don't want to know anymore.

At any rate with each passing day that brings us closer to seeing eachother again, I miss her more and more. As though it was easier when I knew it would be weeks before I could see her face. It's a day and a week before I am picking her up from the airport. Patience is waning. I want to see her now. Hold her and smell her again and taste her lips like I haven't in almost a month.

I want to wake up with her head nestled on my shoulder.
Feel her breath faintly across my chest.



I'm very confused on the entire Pat situation. Stu and I saw him again a couple days ago, and my intitial feelings of encouragement that he'd sort of settled down and found his footing in his new ideology has since been wiped away. He was weird when we saw him. He's developed a tick. He has a twitch now. He told me that in order to give everyone the equal amount of attention he has to be "really weird" to everyone. Since when do you need to give everyone equal attention, all the time?

He's lost, and I can't help him find his way. Stu and I were just confused as I drove him home after the encounter. We realized that we're about the only two guys out of that group that have been consistent. And then we thanked each other for that.

My New Year's was alternately very cool, and very lame.

I slept through most of it at home. I deliberately sacrificed invitations to several parties and get togethers (Stefin, Pat, Sarah...), sure to filled with alchohol and drugs, to stay at home with my mother, and then ended up dozing in and out of conciousness as I sat in front of the glow of the TV watching other people have lots of fun. Then New Year's came and it was completely anti-climactic. I kissed my mom and said Happy New Year and that was it. No fireworks, no noise makers, no champagne. At first I found this entirely depressing, lame, and positively sad.

Then I thought more about it. In retrospect, it was pretty unique. And I admire and value it for that. It was something not many 22 year old males would have done. Stayed home with their mother to keep her company and be with her for the advent of the new year. It's been several years since I was home for New Years. I missed the 'younger' New Years experience a lot, even though I've always found New Year's Eve a terribly depressing event. I think that parties sort of take the edge off of what New Year's really means. And staying home forced me to face that directly. That's not a bad thing.

Of course, had Kate been in town - or remotely close to town - this would have been completely different. I'd have certainly been with her, probably at a party, and exchanged a passionate - possibly alcohol fueled - kiss with her. Instead of a peck on my mom's cheek.

I told Kate that when she gets back to town, we'll have a week of New Year's Eves to celebrate together. I can't wait. ^_^

It's ironic. Stu and I spent our NY's with our moms. Finiak spent his at work. We were all generally miserable. But, all of our girlfriends were off at parties having fun. That is sad. However, I suspect that's how it always ends up. Girls are considered more emotional, but when it comes down to it - guys are, always, more EMO.

Anyway, after 12am I simply couldn't stick around the house anymore so I left. With no real destination. I called Finiak and ended up in the office at Krispy Kreme talking to him and drinking free coffee. It was more fun that that sounds, and just being out and doing something did wonders for my mood.

I want to hit more parties this semester. I'm running out of time, and I haven't been to anything since October. Urgency has hit hardcore this semester. There's a lot to accomplish in the next 5 months.