I’m sipping on my coffee, relaxing with the sounds of John Mayer in the background, wondering why I keep having dates with the devil himself for high tea. I know it sounds silly, however, that is exactly what it feels like. I keep going back into myself and my problems looking for a future or some freedom, yet I keep up my stupidity and my issues. I’m tired and I’m hurt, yet there he is, always waiting with the highest class tea prepared for me. I just want to face my problems with a strong face and radiant stoicism, but I’m finding myself with a problem.

I’m too nice. I can’t tell anyone off, I find myself torn. I can’t even say no except to the most secure parts of my psyche; I keep coming back to this problem. I need to say no. I need to be less friendly. It’s in my damned genetics to be a total asshole, and yet for some reason I can’t. If I don’t, I’ll just keep having high tea with that bastard.

I want to stop hurting, but I don’t know how anymore.

I’m seated here, staring at a blank page that I cannot fathom filling, yet words seep out of my fingers like blood. I’m sitting, wishing you were here, desperate to have my heart made whole. I miss you, my love. I want you like I want my very life, but that is not possible. Not anymore. You’ve gone from my life, you’ve left me with nothing, but I still wish to carry on, to make the most of this, to be healed and to help heal others. There is one thing that I have not yet accomplished: saying goodbye. I still hold you in my heart, I still wish you were next to me, I still wish that things could have been different. I know it’s the fevered dreams of this madman, but I still wish it. I cannot say that damned phrase.

A wise friend once told me that there was no sense wishing away the past, that nothing could be undone. He spoke the truth, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I still wish it didn’t happen. I’ll never truly know what tore us apart in the first place, but it’s not fair that I should not feel because of you. Even still, I cannot say goodbye.

I know you can’t hear me – not many do anymore – but I can’t help myself. I’m alone, sad, and numb from what the world has dished me. I’m bitter and tattered and worn down. I am that pencil nub everyone loves, the tiny utensil well used but not taken care of. My eraser is gone, my point is gone, and I’m beyond usefulness to anyone anymore. Why can’t I say goodbye?

I miss you. You have moved along when I could not, and you have left me behind in the grand scheme of your life, but I miss you. I know it’s too much to ask you to come back, but can you do me this favor:

Will you return my heart so I can say goodbye?

I’m in one of those interesting moods. As of this moment, I’m unhappily single and looking, and that makes me hurt a little bit. I have one interest in Germany right now, another in Clearwater, FL, and yet another in Brandon. I like them all, but I’m not really sure about anything right now. All I know is that I’m really lonely. I don’t want to be lonely, but it’s really the only option I’ve got at the moment.

It’s not as though I can pull guys out of my ass. Believe me, if I could, I would. I’m picky though. I don’t want just anyone, I want someone quality. Most of all though, I desperately need a good cuddle. I’m just getting tired of sitting so utterly alone.

Anyone have a solution?

So, it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything at all. I decided to take a bit of a vacation, take some time to myself, try to revitalize my brain. It didn’t work, so I’m trying to get my creativity out onto the page again. I’ve made some upgrades to my life, like the iPhone I’m typing this on, and the people in my life. Most of me is the same, but a lot of things are different. You’ll see in the coming days. I’m hoping that some of you guys, my once faithful readers, are still around. Maybe not, maybe so, but I’m still gonna write. I’m tired of not having an outlet, and this is now it.

Forgive my indulgence. Here’s hoping you guys remember me fondly.

I’m taking the time today to actually write a post. I’ve been inactive for too long, and I really need to write more on this thing. I was thinking again the other day, and I noted that I’ve been saying the phrase “If I Was” far too much for comfort. It feels to me as though I’m falling through the cracks as a has-been, or worse, a ne’er-was. I feel as though I’m not achieving enough, or rather, my self isn’t good enough for me. I’ve been through this before, but life goes in cycles, so I’m back here again. I’m not sure what to do.

If I was someone who was more secure with himself, this might not be an issue. After the two breakups, however, I’m more of a reserved person in ways, and open in others. I can’t help but think that I’m not someone who is good, kind, caring, gentle, and humble. I can’t help but think that I’m never going to be good enough, never going to be strong enough, or hot enough, or nice enough, or smart enough. All these enoughs will, one day, kill me.

Speaking of enough, I’ve had enough. I’m not going through this just to put up with this bullshit forever. I’m just going to be me, and if that’s not good enough for the world, then (pardon my language) fuck them. I am going to just be me, and let the world go by the wayside. Maybe I’m not an achiever, or a winner, but I’ve got my friends, I’ve got my family, and I’ve got my mind. I’ll be ok.

Remember these? I wrote these at the end of 2006, hoping that I would complete a few. Here’s a breakdown of what I did and did not accomplish this year, and why. Just in case you were wondering, this post is more for me than for you, so sorry.

1. Get that six-pack I’ve been working on for the past 6 months. Didn’t accomplish this one, unfortunately. I tried, but life got in the way and I just stopped doing it. I’m so sorry that I didn’t keep it up, but there’s always this year.
2. Finish writing my book. I never even got started. I created my plot outline, had the story all ready to write, but I never got that cup of coffee and that good music going and wrote. Kinda sad, really, if you think about it. The plot outline is still hanging up. I wonder if I should just start writing and see what happens?
3. Read 50 books. Got to 35 or so, but never made this goal. Again, life got busy so I couldn’t exactly read as much as I had planned. Still, 35 is nothing to sneeze at. Hopefully I can make fifty this year.
4. Read 100 books. See above.
5. Get something published, even something small. Nothing here, either. If I couldn’t make time to write, I couldn’t get published either. Sad, really.
6. Take a roadtrip this summer. Nope, nowhere special. I stayed in town and did school work over the summer. I have a boring life, it seems.
7. Volunteer my time with a worthy secular organization (I’ve done enough church volunteer time to have a degree). I volunteered with my school for a good portion of time, and I also serve as the president of my Phi Theta Kappa chapter, so I’d say this one is accomplished.
8. Make 5 new friends. Done, done, done! More than five, actually. So I’m proud of myself.
9. Organize my living space for optimum productivity. Somewhat. My room went through five or six reorganizations. I suppose that’s a bad thing, but at least I have more organization than before.
10. Get a date. Good as done. Got two boyfriends, too, both of which were asses. I’m happy, what can I say?
11. Take a class in something I’ve never done before. Done, took Consumer Psychology last semester. Good fun, good teacher, good class.
12. Limit my television time to less than three hours a week. I failed this one miserably. I love my TV too much.

All in all, I got a few things done. I volunteered, got a date, made new friends, took a new class, read thirty-five books, and overall had a good time. Here’s to a good new year!

Sometimes, I feel so damn weak. I realized today that from others, I want them to work, but for myself, I want something for nothing, at least relationally. I’m so used to people loving my personality that I forgot that I need to continue working at who I am and who I want to be, so that I can become more of who I am and less of who I’m not. I feel so alive, yet so dead; My philosophy will be my downfall before it will change me for the better. Doing it yourself is so damn hard. I’m so damn weak.

As I said before, though, my philosophy is existential: I make my own destiny. Along those lines, I’m making a series of twelve resolutions, one for each month.

1. I will start asking the same of myself as I require from others.
2. I will break my bad habits.
3. I will go back to working out; not for others, but for myself.
4. I will be content with my life status, no matter what that status is.
5. I will learn about a new field or interest.
6. I will look at every person in a new light, and try to find something about them that is truly interesting.
7. I will try 15 new foods.
8. I will read at least ten books related to the upper society of America.
9. I will create a research paper on a topic I know nothing about for personal gain alone.
10. I will save one thousand dollars this year for a rainy day.
11. I will learn to cook five foreign dishes.
12. I will treat my significant other, should I have one, with the respect, love, and adoration that he deserves.

If I make my destiny, than creating this list will send me towards being a more rounded, caring individual, and less of the person I was becoming after my breakup. Already, the one habit that he got me started on, I’ve officially quit. I want to be better, for me. I want to be stronger.

I feel so goddamned weak.

Sometimes, I feel as though I don’t have the strength of mind to do what I really want to do. I mean, sure, I’ve gotten quite a few things that I wanted only because I had the strength of mind, but my finesse is getting stale. It’s like a warm cola or a bad date: stale and uninviting, yet it does the trick. I can force anything through that I damn well please, but that doesn’t mean anything if it’s not good. I can fake anything, this I know; I have had excellent teachers. I’m just wondering if faking it is making it anymore.

I know that I set trends with my friends. I know that people emulate me, and I am both flattered and scared at the mere idea that someone might copy me. I know, it’s silly, but it’s true. I’ve worked hard to bring out the real me, unadulterated and true, but when I see others taking my path, thinking that I blazed it for them or that my way is the best way, I am scared for those behind me. My path came with barbs and fights, struggles and uphill battles that I usually lost a few times before I won. My strength of mind took me through those things, and I partially believe that that strength of mind not only carried me through, but that those struggles made me the way I am, too. I fear for those behind me because I really don’t want a copy of me out there. Life is diverse because everyone has had a different past.

For instance, in my past, I have had to deal with pedophiles and sexual predators who wanted me. I’ve had to deal with coming out in a religious background. I’ve had to face off against people who hated me, who wanted to destroy me. I’ve been faced with the proposition of destroying someone else’s life, and I took it not knowing what I was doing. I’ve done some despicable things in life, and believe me, I do not want anyone following my path.

I know I set trends without my knowledge. I know that someone is always watching me, seeing how I do things. I’m not ok with that. I just hope that I have the finesse of mind to set things right before someone follows me off of a bridge.

Regardless of what may be true or false, this post is a rant on the human psyche and the human soul. None of these assertions or ideas are legitimate, logical, or even sane. Don’t take anything I say seriously.

I’ve recently gone through a breakup. I’m single again, and I’m not really all that fond of being totally and completely alone. Maybe you don’t know, or maybe you do, but I’m not part of what the world considers socially acceptable. I’m gay. To be single and gay in a conservative, republican, baptist county is to be utterly alone. Sure, I have a few gay friends, but I don’t see any of them nearly enough to count myself as not alone. I’m not intimately acquainted with any of them, and it gets to me sometimes. I’ll walk the aisles of my job and see people together and happy, and it makes me wonder if I’d be happier if I conformed to society.

I don’t really want to. I like being different. I like being me. I’m just not sure how to go about being me when it doesn’t feel like who I am is appreciated or desired. Like the title of the post says, what good is different, really, if difference isn’t really desired? Here in America, we advertise ourselves as the proponents of being different. We’re the melting pot, we say, and we have come from many to become one. Yet, in all reality, we are so different. We do not force segregation, but we still do segregate on our own. We form special interest clubs around race, orientation, class, et cetera. We want to be diverse, and yet with every waking moment we drift away from that ideal with our actions. If a black man acts with class and dignity, we classify them as white. If a gay man doesn’t always flame with feminine acts and have the stereotypical professions, he’s doubted. It’s sad.

I think the answer to my title question is simple: Difference is good because it sets us apart. Most people who fear diversity, who are ignorant of the world, tend to gravitate to people like them. The people who are different, however, tend to appreciate the differences between themselves and gravitate to those who are different. While I may be lonely now, I might just find myself a few friends who value me for who I am, rather than who they want me to be. That, in my opinion, is what good being different is.

I’ve been in a bit of a rut lately. It seems that no matter what I seem to do and no matter where I seem to go, I’ve been feeling down, depressed, and unwilling to do a single thing except what I absolutely must. Well, I gave some thought to the whole issue of Dionysus and the God of Wine, and I feel that his essence is the key to “getting my groove back.”

Dionysus is, simply, the god of frivolity. He is the god of wine, of parties, and of fun and games. He is the joker, the nutcase, the total nut that you love to invite to parties because of his entertainment value. It is in his spirit that my groove lies. See, I don’t think that Dionysus would much care for the social restrictions placed upon us by our parents and our civilizations. I think that he cares for what solution is simplest. In this case, it is throwing away what is stopping me from being who I want to be for Jeff, for myself, and for others.

In everything, Dionysus has his influence, and certainly, one can take his essence too far. His simplistic attitude towards life does not adequately handle dealing with society rather than outside of it, and therefore another one of the god’s essences would have to handle my professional and scholastic lives.

My groove, however, resides solely with Dionysus. I can’t groove with Zeus, Chronos, Athena, Aries, Aphrodite, or any of the other gods. Only Dionysus has that groove and that unending philosophy of hedonism that can temper the spirit of the human soul. With his traits, I feel as though I can truly turn the table, mount the record, and start playing.