Writers block.

I should make one, and market it.  That is all.

There are some things I will never be.

There are other, more important things that I will always be.  I will always be a dreamer.  In my dreams, I am free. I can imagine, wander to the ends of the universe, lose myself in a world far removed from our reality.  I will always be a thinker.  In my mind, I am free.  I can ponder, question truth, believe.  I will always love.  In my heart, I am chained. Prisoner to what could be, what might have been, what should have happened, what cannot be allowed to happen.

I once said that I had a glass heart.  You can see right through it.  Years ago, I shattered that heart to set someone free.  I've done my best to rebuild it, but it's like sewing up a wound you can't quite reach... you really need someone else to do it.

There's a funny thing about truth you should all know.  If someone asks me a question they won't like the answer to, I try not to twist the truth or tell white lies.  I always ask "That depends.  Would you prefer the truth or a lie?"  Their response is always "The truth of course!".  This is, of course, a lie.  No one likes to hear truth when it hurts.  No one likes to hear they're wrong, or harsh truths like "you're a bit overweight", "you smell.  bad.", "you're acting like a fool."

These things are no less true because you don't want to hear them.  This is why we are taught to be tactful.  This is why we dance around each other.  More importantly, this is why we play our games of he said she said, double talk, half truths and outright lies.

Even more important is how we react to truth.  I believe what I believe.  That is my truth.  You believe what you believe.  I had a conversation with someone once.  I told them I had a problem with what they were doing, and laid out my argument as to why.  The topic at hand was not a cut and dry black and white topic, mind you.  Their response to every single one of my arguments was "I feel you're wrong.  I think I'm right.  I think this, I feel that, I want it to be this way so it is."  Unfortunately, we are no longer friends because they refused to hear the truth of my words.

You may be wondering how my truth was any better than what they felt, and what they believed.  My truth was no better.  It was still truth.  The problem arose not from their disbelief of my truth, but of refusing to even consider my truth.  Therein lies most of our social problems.  No one asks "Why do you feel that way?", and even more often, when asked "Why do you feel that way?" can't come up with an answer beyond "I feel its right".

Sometimes, that's all that's needed, that you feel it's right.  Other times...

I once did what I felt was right.  I shattered my heart to free someone.  I regret that choice every day.  At the moment I did it, it felt right.  It felt like the best course of action.  If I had talked it over with one other person, maybe I'd have seen it from a different point of view and seen how terrible that truth was.

There is great power in truth.  With that, as we all know, comes great responsibility.

I would rather be the friend that did or said what you needed me to, rather than the friend that did or said what you wanted me to.

Still.  Sometimes withholding small truths are better courses of action than shouting it to the world.  There are no absolutes when it comes to people.  Life is not mathematical, as much as I wish it were.  Love is not logical, though sometimes it can mistaken for logic.  I don't speak of just romantic love here, I speak of friendships, of parent child relationships.

We've always been told that honesty is the best policy.  Why, then, are we nearly always punished for telling truths?

Incredibad

I know I'm not supposed to be bitter when friends are successful, but damnit, I'm pretty bitter about this one.  I've been job hunting pretty actively over the last 6-8 months.  One of my super pals was job hunting for a week and was hired.  wtf?  I'll tell you wtf.  I'm a college student, so I carry that party hard stereotype.  I'm a bigger white guy, so I carry the stereotype of intimidation/jock.  I ride a motorcycle, and I'm young, so I carry the stereotype of a thrillseeking dumbass.  Oh, and my resume and professionalism makes the hiring manager look like a moron.

Not saying my super pal didn't deserve the job.  Not even saying my super pal doesn't make managers look like morons.  Just bitter and angry.  /endrant

I am the Nightmare.

I hate this time of year.  I do.  I'm an asthmatic in one of the top ten worst air quality cities in the country, if not the world.  During summer, most days I can hardly step outside without my inhaler on hand, and if I do anything more strenuous than walk I have a terrible attack.  Or if a cat has passed in the area within the last fortnight (I'm over exaggerating here, I wanted to use the word fortnight.  I am highly allergic to cats though...).

Anyway.  Fireworks are pretty awesome.  It's controlled (mostly), fire-y explosions.  However, when everybody on the whole damn planet is lighting them off, the smoke is thicker than fog and you can almost burn more calories trying to push your way ten meters through it than you would sprinting on a treadmill for an hour.

So guess what that means for me?  Yep... pretty much death for the next two days or so.

My lovely father, his girlfriend and her family are up in a town about an hours drive away, partying with massive amounts of barbecue and explosives just like the founding fathers would have wanted.  I stayed home so I could shut the house up and pray that I can keep most of the bad air out for at least today and most of tomorrow.  However, none of them get that, and I keep getting teased for being anti social and told that I need to rejoin society (not just this weekend mind you, this is a recurring theme.)  I'm sorry, but blowing things up and watching the married couples do their thing is not my idea of social.

I had my first bout of scary alcohol poisoning the other night.  It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, and I was more angry that I couldn't get to sleep than I was about puking my guts out.  Either way, I now know my red line limit in addition to my safe limit!  Whee!

So yay American independence from those nasty British (who aren't really that bad to be perfectly honest), I still want to move to friggin Canada (love what America stands for but hate the implementation, story for another time), boo fucktastic air quality, and wish me luck on finding a job this week.

Heck, at this point, I'd take leaving the house without dying tomorrow as the condition for tomorrow being a good day or not.  That made a lot more sense in my head than it did after I wrote it.

Signs for stuff and things.

Not really sure how to start off todays rant of choice, so I'll just jump right into it.

I'm bipolar.  I've known that for a while now.  Sadly, I'm not bipolar 1 (more commonly called manic/depressant) where you go through bad lows and amazing highs.  No, I'm bipolar 2, which is depressant/more depressant.  I'm lucky to get a two day run of normal.  I don't tell you this so you go "awe... poor fool".  I tell you so you can understand.  Support I'll take.  Don't patronize me, don't pity me.  =)

So the last two weeks have been hyper depressed weeks.  I find it funny because while most people are enjoying they're summer breaks or getting ready to party all weekend, I had two weeks off before my school starts back up this Sunday.  What did I do over these two weeks?  I moved furniture.  A lot of furniture.  Furniture that isn't mine.  I offered to do someone a favor and got stiffed hardcore on it.  Still, whatever, karma points for me right?  Wrong.

Some good things happened over these two weeks too.  My buddies are in town, and I spent a good chunk of my free time hanging out with them.  The rest of my free time was spent either looking for a job or sleeping.  Moving on.

I was having a conversation with a friend a few days ago, a friend who is happily married and has had most everything handed to him on a silver platter.  He's very naive to the way of the world because he's been sheltered all his life.  During our conversation, I brought up that I am smitten with a lass, and the only reason I don't ask her out is that I get the impression she just wants to be friends and doesn't see me in that romantic light (a story for another time).  I made the joke of "how could she resist me!  I'm unemployed, love cartoons, play video games, and I'm slightly overweight!"  His response was something along the lines of "And you wonder why you're still single."

No, I don't actually wonder why I'm still single.  I know why I'm still single, and why I have very few friends.  It's simple statistics.  I am an intelligent, kind, caring, oversensitive romantic.  Most males aren't and most females my age want an exciting guy, cute guy, guy with stupid amounts of money, etc.  The females my age that know what they want and know what they're missing out on/doing to themselves in these relationships where they're unhappy are a minority, if not an outlier.  Males like me are also outliers, social outcasts (partially by choice).

I know that's not the only reason.  I'm unemployed... there's not a lot I can do about that.  I've filled out over 30 job applications (and followed up on them) in the past two weeks, if not more.  Thanks to our wonderful economy, the probability of me getting a job is slim to nill.  I live at home, so I don't have my own place where people can come over and hang out, or a place where I can be me and do the things I want without getting judged.  These, however, are things that I can change given time and not a little bit of luck, and I'm working on that.

Like I mentioned earlier, I'm a bit overweight.  A lot of my problem is that all of my fat is in my torso, and it looks terrible.  The rest of my body (at least muscle/fat ratio wise) looks decent enough in my humble opinion.  I've been doing exercises and changing my diet to work on that, and it's helping, but as anyone will tell you doing it right takes time.

The nerd thing is MY thing god damnit.  I am a nerd.  You don't like it, go fuck yourself, I probably don't like what you do for fun but I sure as hell don't begrudge you for it.  For example, I hate working on cars.  My dad LOVES working on cars.  He thinks I'm less of a man and less of a human being because I loathe working on cars.  I'm happy that he likes working on cars, why can't he be happy that I feel the same way about computers?  What makes me furious is he constantly asks me to work on his computer, but then turns right around and makes fun of me or belittles me for choosing that as my hobby rather than cars or working out or chasing loose women.  I am me.  You are you.  Respect it or leave me the hell alone, and I'll do the same for you.

Sidetracked there a bit.  Sorry.  The next big part of why I'm still lonely 75% of the time (talking about friends here as well, not just romantic partners) is that I can't go out, or if I do I have to leech off of everyone else.  I'm flat broke, and there's not much I can do about it that I'm not already.  This town is horrid for free passtimes.  Nothing is free here.  Parks are so few and far between (and usually shitty), that you need to fill up on gas, buy bottled water, even if you just pack a lunch that lunch had to come from somewhere, and that means more money.  I don't care how cheap it is to do something, but $0 won't cover it.  So I don't hardly get out at all.  The college youth group I go to has helped a LOT in that respect, but that's only once a week and I don't see or talk to hardly anybody from it outside of our scheduled meeting times.  I'm trying to change that but everyone wants to meet somewhere, and again that takes money.

Finally, I have no money.  That seems to be a recurring theme, but look at it this way... say I want to take a girl out to dinner.  I can't say "hey, can I take you out to a nice dinner?"  or "how bout I take you to the movies?"  The best I can do is offer to make them dinner, but again with living at home that's not exactly a great option, especially with how my parent and brother act (especially if I brought a girl home).  So I can scrimp and save and be able to do one thing every two weeks (give or take).  So what then?  Every two weeks I take a stab in the dark and hope it works out?  Or do I use that money to.. you know... eat?  Or buy clothes that I desperately need to increase my chances at getting a job?  Or save up enough money to put my car back on the road so I can fill out applications in parking lots and not have to wear a backpack around or show up with helmet hair sun burnt?

All these questions are rhetorical of course.  I don't expect answers.  I'm just lost.  All I can do right now is hold on, scratch and claw my way along school and hope I find work somewhere.  Maybe I'll even fuck around and end up in a relationship.

Whatever.  Hopefully, this weekend I'll be able to use my five dollars of fun money for the month to get blackout drunk.  Maybe Rite-Aid will have a sale on Tennessee whiskey again.  3 dollars for a gallon of whiskey.

Oh, and to everybody that is gonna give me the whole "You shouldn't hide in a bottle" or some similar line?  Don't.  I'm a big boy.  I haven't had a drink in well over two months.  I haven't gotten drunk in longer.  Also, it's none of your damn business.

So screw it all.  Let the good times roll.  I haven't lost hope for humanity, but I most definitely have lost faith in it.  I know there are people out there who agree with what I'm saying, I know there are people out there who think I'm full of shit or having a pity party.  I know there are people out there that don't care what I think, and don't care if they knock up that girl or if they're an ice queen or if they OD on heroin or who they destroy so long as they get ahead.

I also know that a lot of my friends won't understand this post, and will flip out, because they haven't experienced what I have, haven't lost what I have, and are in a good, happy place.  I hope they never leave that place, and never understand what I'm saying.  I didn't write this for them, I wrote it to get it out, and in the hopes that someone out there in internet land is having as hard a time as I am and needs to know they aren't alone.

So until next time, I'll leave you with this.  I look back on my life and I am proud of the person I am, of the good things I have done.  I am ashamed of the terrible thing I did, of the bad things I've done, and of the times  I've hurt people, either intentionally or unintentionally.  If I were to die tonight, I would be able to look back on my life and say yes, I've done more good than ill and left the world slightly better than I left it, even if it's in an intangible way.  Am I happy with my life?  Fuck no.  Am I satisfied with the person I am?  Fuck yeah.

So do me a favor.  Ask yourself, are you happy with the person you are?  Really?  If not, you better get shit straight.