Let me start out by saying that I love my family. I really do. We don't always see eye to eye, but they're still always there for me. Well, sorta. Here's a little story of what went down at about 3 o'clock this morning...

Saturday the 29th we had a nasty snowstorm here. Dumped about 2 feet of the fun stuff right on top of us. Sunday the 30th, after it was done, it was time to remove it all from the driveway and stairs and such as is customary. So I get out there about 9:30 Sunday morning to help my dad clean up. Unfortunately being that it's still way early in the season and still relatively warm out, the snow was heavy and wet, and our poor tiny old snowblower couldn't handle it, so we had to shovel it all. Now I don't have a huge driveway by any means, but it's still big enough to be a pain in the ass. So after about 5 hours of shoveling, I was exhausted, and as I pretty much expected, my asthma was acting up. Not really all that unusual after doing strenuous work. The issue lied in the fact that I had to use my rescue inhaler at least 4 times that day. That's bad. Anyway, I plod along through the day feeling miserable. Come about 3 AM on Monday (today) and my breathing's still extremely labored, and I'm afraid to use my inhaler again since gross overuse of albuterol can really fuck up your day. So I go upstairs, and my dad's awake, cause he's getting ready to head to work. So I tell him what's up. Now, here's where the ranty part starts.

I talk to my dad, and tell him how I've been needing my rescue inhaler all day and that something's obviously not right. He then berates me about how it's because I'm lazy and don't get any exercise so when I'm forced to do any real work this kind of shit happens. Dad, I appreciate the lecture, but I can't really breathe. I think I might need to...oh, you gotta let the dog out first? Alright then, take your time, I'll be here...

...

...

...

Done? Alright, like I was saying I think I may need to go to the ER, I'm really having trouble here. He then points out that my ingrown toenail is infected and I shoulda got that taken care of because infections spread and causes this kind of shit. Then adds in a heavily irritated tone "Whatever, get dressed and I'll take you." Really? I know infections spread, but...really? I have asthma. The two are completely unrelated. And thanks for making a big show of my inconveniencing you with my health. I inform him that I'm gonna call my fiancée to let her know what's going on. His response? "Why? What's she gonna do?" What's she gonna...? That's not the point! This is the woman I'm gonna marry. I think she has a right to know that I'm going to the hospital. So I go call her, and get myself dressed. While I'm gone, he wakes my mom up to tell her what's going on. I head back upstairs, and there's my mom. "Think you can wait a few hours until the doctor's office opens instead?" Oh, gee, sure mom. I'll just head back downstairs and struggle to breathe for a few hours so I can call the doctor just to have him tell me to go to the ER. No mom, I'm going now. Fine, let's go. As we're walking out the door, my dad turn to my mom and says "Oh, by the way, I didn't have time to make coffee before this, so you're gonna have to do it." Because, after all, that's what's really important here right now. Coffee.

So it's a relatively short 10 minute drive to the hospital done in silence save for my wheezing. Once we get there, my dad asks "Want me to drop you off, or do you think you can manage to walk from the parking lot?" in a tone that states that he's not actually really gonna drop me off anyway, and that I'm gonna walk regardless. So being rather upset by my parent's inability to really care up to this point, I tell him I'll be fine walking over. The only real show I get from him of caring for me was when he said good luck when they called me in.

I won't bore you with the details of what went on in the ER, suffice to say I was told I was in the early stages of pneumonia, and that I was gonna go on antibiotics and that I should take a couple days off from work. They send me home since my oxygen saturation and bloodwork and such looked good otherwise. So me and my dad walk back to the truck and have another rather quiet ride home. When I get there, I fill my mom in and tell her I was told to stay home for a couple days, and her response was "Why? If they're putting you on medication there's no reason you can't go in. I mean if it was me, I certainly wouldn't stay home."

...

Are you fucking kidding me? I have a lung infection. I have asthma. I work at a physically demanding job outside in the elements. Direct orders from the doctor were to stay home and rest for a couple days, yet somehow you know better than her? No, I'm staying home. Fuck you. At least she offers to go get my prescriptions filled for me while I at least get a couple hours of sleep, since I've been up for 22 hours at this point. Unfortunately I do only get a couple hours of sleep, since I'm feeling so terrible from the past days events, that I just can't get comfortable. But whatever. A couple hours is better than none at all. So I get up and go back upstairs. "Your prescriptions cost me $50 you know." Alright, whatever. I'll get you the money. "And since you're gonna be home anyways, pick up your room. It's an absolute mess in it's wicked pissing me off." Really, mom? Really? That's what's important to you today? That I pick up my room because it upsets you? My room that sits in the basement where you never see it anyways? When I should be resting and taking it easy until this clears up? No, I can't just take it easy, despite being in the ER just a few short hours ago. No I gotta take care of it because she's mad about a room that she doesn't even live in.

So yeah, this morning I found out where I really stand with my parents. Apparently unless I'm on my death bed, I can just suck it up and quit inconveniencing them. Thanks for being there for me, guys. It's much appreciated.

        He lit up a smoke as he walked towards his car. It was a rusted-out beat-to-shit hunk of scrap metal, but it was the best he could do right now, and for as terrible as it looked, it was reliable, and never failed to get him to where he needed to go. He hoped that it would do so for him one last time. He decided to put the top down since it was such a nice night out. His car wasn't actually a convertible by design, but it was so old that the top had actually started to come off, so with a little bit of ingenuity and elbow grease, he modified it so that it would at least act like one. After stowing the top safely away in the trunk, he hoped into the driver's seat, slid the key into the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. He muttered a few curse words as he tried again and again to no avail. Why did he have to wait until the last minute to talk to Diane? Time was quickly slipping away and now his car had finally decided that enough is enough and gave out on him. Great. Fucking perfect. Now what was he gonna do? He sat there in silence as a light rain began to fall.

        Diane was sitting patiently in Terminal C as flight after flight went from delayed to canceled. The storm was getting more fierce, and showed no sign of letting up. Oddly enough, her flight was still showing an on time departure, and strange though it may be, she wasn't about to complain. As she sat watching the storm attempt to break the windows of the terminal, her thoughts turned to Jack. Why hadn't he said anything to her yet? Had she been too subtle? Where was he now? Was he thinking of her? None of that really mattered anymore, she supposed, since there was no way she was gonna miss this opportunity for a mere man. This was something she had been waiting for her whole life, and there was nothing that was gonna keep her from it. Still, she wished that Jack would've come with her. It would be nice to have someone she knew with her when she got there, especially someone whom she was quite fond of.
        She was torn away from her thoughts as the overhead speaker squawked the final boarding call for her flight. This was it. It was now or never. With one last longing glance towards the door she had come in through, she gathered her things and slowly shuffled towards Gate B. For someone who was about to embark on a flight that was going to bring her to the greatest thing that's ever happened to her, she was feeling awfully gloomy.
        After showing the ticket agent her boarding pass, she made her way to her seat, and after stowing her things in the overhead compartment settled down for the long flight. She was happy that she had been able to get a window seat. Things always looked more interesting from afar. She watched the ground crew scurry about in the driving rain as the door closed and the gate was pulled back. They started being pushed back towards the taxiway. She glanced about the cabin, hoping to catch some sign of Jack. Maybe he had made it on the flight somehow. No, of course he hadn't. He didn't even know which flight she was on. She turned back to the window and was staring at the runway lights when something strange caught her eye. She tried to get a better look at it, but it was hard to see through all the rain. What the hell was that? It looked like someone was riding some kind of animal. That couldn't be right, though. How would they get on the airfield? However, as the shape drew closer, she realized that that's indeed what was happening. Somehow, someone had managed to get on the airfield while riding what was starting to look suspiciously like a cow. Could it be? No, there was no way...

        Jack screamed at the sky in a fit of rage as rain started pouring into his now disabled shit-box. This couldn't be happening. Not after all they had been through. Now, at the worst possible time, his car had given up the ghost. He clamored out of it and gave the bumper a swift kick as he walked off. The car suddenly roared to life and took off like a shot right into a brick wall and promptly exploded. He stood there gawking in slack-jawed amazement. That was by far, without a doubt, the biggest display of unbelievable bullshit that had ever happened. After staring at the charred, twisted remains of his car for a number of minutes, he finally shook his head and wandered off towards the outskirts of the town.
        By the time Jack had reached the old Johnson farm, his emotions finally hit him like a hammer. He was cold, drenched, and alone. What was he gonna do? There was no way he'd make it to the airport now. He had no car, and had wasted even more time staring like an idiot at the wall that had taken his beloved ride from him. He started sobbing as he walked down the old dirt road towards his tiny shack that sat a few miles away. His crying was suddenly answered by, of all things, a gentle moo. It had come from behind him, and close behind him at that. He jumped and spun around and found himself face to face with the big, squishy, loving eyes of Farmer Johnson's prize winning cow Ethel. What luck! Besides being utterly awesome, Ethel was known as being the fastest cow this side of the Mason-Dixie line. In fact, it was said that Ethel could even outrun an F1 racecar. Of course, not many people really believed that. At least, not until she actually did, and won the FIA Formula One World Championship 3 times in a row, though why they let a cow race in that is anyone's guess.
        Ethel gave another soft moo as Jack climbed up onto her back, and, without a word from him, she took off back down the road in the direction of the airport. It was all he could do to hold on as green fields changed into gray buildings in the blink of an eye. Structures whizzed by in a blur as Ethel hurtled down the road like a bat outta hell, and the rain was hitting Jack like thousands of needles, eventually causing him to start bleeding just from sheer velocity. He didn't care though. He was gonna make it to Diane! He could finally see the airport, and it was rapidly approaching. Next thing he new, Ethel had jumped the perimeter fence and was racing towards the only moving plane on the field.

        Kyle was so pissed off he couldn't see straight, though that may have been partly due to the driving rain. He had no idea why the pilot had insisted on flying in such weather, but he was in no position to argue. His raincoat did little to stop the storm from soaking him through as he sat on the tug pushing back the aircraft. It was days like these that he hated his job, but it paid the bills and gave him enough left over to live a decent life, so he stuck with it. As he was disconnecting the aircraft from the tug after the pushback procedure was completed, he heard a strange sound. It sounded like...hooves? That couldn't be right. After 12 years at the airport, the only animals he had seen there aside from birds were small creatures. Coyotes, foxes, and the like. He looked around for the source of the sound. Surely his ears must be deceiving him. It was likely a trick of the storm or something. Then his eyes caught sight of a strange scene. A man was bouncing atop a cow that was moving at a speed he never though possible, and they were headed right for him! Kyle scrambled to get everything stowed away and took off on the tug towards the terminal, thinking to himself that he sure as hell doesn't get paid enough to deal with shit like this. Hell, he didn't even know how to deal with such a situation. How do you stop a cow moving at speeds only racecars can reach? Whatever, his job was done. The plane had been pushed to the taxiway, and it was out of his hands now, though he felt sorry for the poor bastard that had to deal with that apparently crazed bovine on steroids.
        After he reached the terminal and jogged into the dry sanctuary of the baggage room, he turned to watch the scene unfold. He had no idea what was going to happen, but either way it'd certainly make for one hell of a story. The pilots had apparently not seen the cow as they started to taxi off towards the runway. Kyle could faintly hear the man atop the cow yell over the roar of the jet's engines, but he had no idea what was being shouted. Somehow though, the cow was managing to keep up with the aircraft as it rolled along. That's was certainly one unique cow.

        Jack was holding on to Ethel for dear life as he shouted at the plane to stop. He didn't expect to be heard, of course, but he didn't know what else to do. The plane had reached the runway and was spooling up for takeoff. He had to act quick, or all would be lost. He couldn't let that happen though. He wouldn't! This miracle cow had given him another chance, and he wasn't about to blow it now! He urged Ethel on ahead of the plane. Surely the pilots would see a cow in the middle of the runway and abort their takeoff, right? The brave bovine sped on ahead of the plane and turned around to face it. If the plane didn't stop now, well, at least they could get a bunch of steaks out of her. As for him, he had nothing left to lose anyway, so what did it matter? As the plane rolled closer and closer, Jack closed his eyes. It was obvious they wouldn't stop. How could they miss a bright white cow sitting on a black runway? Go figure. He had managed to get in front of the one plane that was being flown by some crazy, sadistic pilot. Jack opened one eye, just to see how far away his doom was, when the wheels started to lift off the ground. That son of a bitch was taking off! No wonder they didn't stop! He wasn't about to let them get away that easily though. Aside from being an F1 champ, Ethel was also a world-class high jumper, and with all her might, she jumped right up onto the nose of the plane, and gave a menacing look to the extremely startled pilot, who promptly put the wheels back on the ground and aborted his takeoff. There was no doubt about it, thought Jack, this cow was a miracle on four legs. He vowed right then and there to never eat another hamburger, as the plane taxied ever so slowly back to the terminal. Victory was his, and for miles around, people all over heard the triumphant moo of Ethel the Wonder Cow.

I'm thinking since I never use this place to blog anymore, maybe I'll start using it to write stories or something. I'd ask what you guys think, but no one reads this anymore. XD Anyways, I feel for some reason that writing here might be easier than trying to actually write or writing something all at once. We'll see. Who knows if I'll actually keep up with it? If past trends can be believed, I probably won't. :P A man can dream, though. A man can dream...

And I mean quick, since I'm tired as hell. Anyways, met Amanda tonight, and it...didn't go well. Long story short, I clammed up like I always do, and on top of that, she decided she just wasn't ready for another relationship anyways, so...yeah. Totally bombed it.

To make up for it though, I got an e-mail from Paul, the guy who runs the website where I bought my sword from. He told me that they had just sold out of the parctical series Castile swords yesterday, but for the inconvenience, he said he was willing to upgrade me to the Signature Series Castile FREE OF CHARGE. From dealing with the man before, I knew this guy was a class act, but this goes far above and beyone anything I ever would've expected anyone to do. That's like a hundred dollar upgrade right there. If anyone's in the market for an entry-level sword, I highly recommend poking around his website, sword-buyers-guide.com for lots of fantastic information and reviews on all different types of swords, from katanas to rapiers to broadswords to whatever, and the store located there has some kickass deals on quality swords from a guy who knows customer service like no other. I will most certainly be returning there when I get the itch to buy another blade.

*brushes off the cobwebs*

I should really update this thing more regularly. Though it's not like anything exciting ever goes on. >.> Anyway, on to recent news!

I've been slowly losing weight, which is pretty sweet. I'm down to 236 from 255, and I've done it all by just switching from regular soda to diet, and by drastically cutting down on my pizza consumption. More changes are on the way, they're just coming along slowly. Still, even a small victory is still a victory!

Also big news, a couple friends of mine are trying to set me up with a girl, and this attempt seems far more promising than the last one. In fact, word is I might have a chance to meet her tomorrow! Course, I don't really know much about this girl beyond the fact that her name's Amanda, she's a nursing student, that she's a bit on the "chunky" side but still has a pretty face, and that she's really sweet and looking for a committed, long-term relationship. We'll see how it goes when we meet, I guess. Wish me luck!

And in not-so-big-to-everyone-else-but-big-to-me news, I bought a new sword! I've been able to resist the siren call of the blade for a while now, but it finally got to me again when I saw the Castile from Valiant Armoury; designed by industry giants Angus Trim and Christian Fletcher. If one was to buy a sword crafted by Angus himself and mounted by Fletcher (basically that means he'll create a custom scabbard and belt for your sword) you could expect to pay no less than $1500, but since they merely designed the sword and are overseeing the manufacturing rather than doing it themselves, I managed to scoop one up for the low price of $280! And it's a good thing I saw it when I did, because these (along with a lot of the other ATrim designed VA swords) tend to sell out quick. The second generation of this particular sword (the one I got, where they changed its design from a type X to a type XII) just came out the beginning of this month and they're already almost gone. Granted it's the no-frills basic model, rather than the more expensive signature series, but the difference between the two is purely cosmetic. The blade is exactly the same on both models. As I said earlier, the sword is of an Oakeshott Type XII design (I actually just learned about Oakeshott typology today!) and...eh, you know what, I'm not gonna bore you with all the details, as I know most (if not all) of you don't even care. If you do though, there's a pretty awesome review of the sword here which gives you way more info than I could, having not received the sword yet.

Anywhoozle, that's it for news from my neck of the woods. We now return you to your regularly scheduled lack of updates.

So my depression seems to have come creeping back around. It hit me last night at work when I went to go fuel some low-leads. I've come to realize how terrible a life I live. I wake up to an empty house almost every day, dive an hour into work with a multitude of terrible drivers all along Rt. 2 (which composes about 95% of my ride to work) then I get to a job with douchebag managers, a retarded day shift that fucks us over at every turn, asshole pilots, and uncaring passengers, and let's not forget the fact that we're retardedly understaffed. The only thing that makes it bearable are the people I work with, and even then there's only 2 of them that I really get along with: Jess and Justin. They're the two that I feel the most comfortable talking to. In fact, me and Justin are quite similar, and he's helped me out many a time when I was in a poor mental state. And Jess just carries a lot of wisdom from her past experiences and has a good way of putting things in perspective. Anyway, after a typically shitty day at work, I get to drive an hour back home along the same route that is now riddled with night construction. I'd say about 50% of my drive is hampered by night work that really has no end in sight, which makes me wonder how it's gonna be come winter when the snow starts to fly. And then I get home to a house where everyone's asleep, spend an hour or two watching TV, and go to sleep myself only to wake it up and do it all over again for 4 more days out of the week.

Now, I understand that that's just how life works. Everyone needs a job, everyone works for most of the week, blah blah blah. But most of those people also have a family, or a relationship, or a bunch of friends that they can go out with on the weekends like every other normal person who actually has weekends off. I'm by myself. I see my family before I go to work Saturday and Sunday, and when they get home on Thursday and Friday, as those are my days off. So for the most part, I really am alone. I almost never see anyone outside of work. On occasion I'll go out with my brother and my buddy G on one of my days off, but it's not really all that often, and when we do go out, I pretty much always feel left out. And now that my brother is back in school, I imagine it'll be even less often, so I'll just be sitting at home more. I just don't have any friends left. Brett's still around, but I feel rather uncomfortable when I go over his house by myself. It just feels awkward for some reason. When we used to hang out together and Steve was around, it would be fine. We'd sit downstairs and play some Mario Kart or some Brawl, or we'd go outside and toss the ball or a frisbee around. But Steve wanted out of his housing situation (understandably) and moved off to Ohio, so he's not around anymore, which is a damn shame, because he was my best friend. If ever I was feeling down or whatever, he'd invite me over, or he'd come pick me up or something, and we'd go grab a pizza and watch movies or play Halo or something, or we'd have a bonfire, and he'd just help me relax, and it was wonderful. Now he's gone and I don't think he's ever coming back. We still talk on occasion, but it's just not the same. I really miss that kid. My friend Katie still lives around here too. She got an apartment with her boyfriend over in Gardner, but I don't really visit her much. It's kinda the same thing: I just feel awkward about it. It's not because we don't get along or anything, but firstly, when her boyfriend's around...well...let's just say I'm not a fan of the guy, so I feel real uncomfortable. And when it's just me and her, we'll watch some TV or play some games or something, but it feels almost...forced? Like that's not really what either of us wants to do but we're not sure what else to do, you know? The only other person is my online friend Luna, who works 2 jobs and just generally isn't around much because things just keep her busy, and I understand that, but it still sucks that I don't get to talk to her much. That and she's been real depressed herself lately, and well...one depressed person is gonna have a hell of a time cheering up another...

So yeah, for all intents and purposes, I'm basically alone. This would be right around the time I hear "Well why don't you just go out and do something or meet someone?" Where? At a bar or something? Ha! First off, I'm not gonna go to a bar by myself, because that would just make me miserable. I'll just end up sitting in a corner drinking alone. And if I saw a cute girl or something, I would not have the confidence or courage necessary to go talk to her, and with no one else there to encourage me, I wouldn't have the support I need to gain the courage or confidence to go, so I would basically just be spending money to make myself miserable. Let's face it people, going out by yourself sucks, and you all know that, so telling me to do it is kind of a douchebag move to begin with. Speaking of which, this all kinda reminds me of all those times I've had friends tell me that they're gonna help me meet someone. I have still yet to talk to anyone. The only one that actually did try to help me was Justin, and unfortunately the girl he was talking to for me wasn't very receptive, so it all fell through.

So there's my life. I wake up every morning, and the first thing I do is think about the day ahead, and I'm instantly put in a sour mood, because I have all of that to contend with. It's gotten to the point where I'm starting to wonder why I even bother waking up at all. I mean, no one wants to deal with all that crap, so why should I have to? And I know people will say "Well, at least you have a place to live" or "At least you have a job" but is it really worth it when all it does is make you miserable? I can't honestly remember the last time I was truly happy. Oh sure, me and the few friends I have have shared a laugh or two some days, but that really only makes me feel good for the duration of the conversation. After that, I'm back to being down. Hell, I don't really even have anything to look forward to. There's the Ren Faire and the Dethklok show next month, possibly TSO in November, and going to visit Luna sometime next year, and that's it. That's all I have. And even then, three of those things are only gonna be day long events that I'm sure I will enjoy for that day, and possibly the next, but after that it's just a memory. And that's all I have left to get any sort of happiness from is memories. No one should have to look to the past for happiness. You can't live in the past. I want to be able to get happiness from the present. Unfortunately, I just don't see that happening. And that makes life not really seem like it's worth living...

...

Matter of fact, when I ask people what they would do if I were to die, I think about...3 or 4 people said it would make them sad, and 2 or 3 said they'd piss on my grave. I don't think a single person had said that they can't imagine a life without me in it, which pretty much goes to show that I have not had a significant impact on any one single person's life. 23 years on this planet, and I haven't done one thing to make all of it worthwhile. Not really much motivation to continue on, is it?

This entry, I suppose, is more of a random collection of thoughts and happenings and stuff. I doubt ther'll be much flow to it and it probably won't read well, so...just a warning.

I hate it when I'm driving down the highway at night and drivers going the other way don't turn off their high beams. It's freakin bright and makes it really hard to see. Turning my high beams on doesn't seem to give them the hint to turn theirs off either. Drivers in this state just suck in general. Selfish and whatnot... And speaking of things that suck in this state: winter. I'm so sick of snow it's not even funny. We have another storm coming. Should be here in...oh...nowish. My car sucks in the snow due to horrible tires, so there's no way in hell that I'll make it into work tomorrow unless I can take one of my parents' cars. Truth be told, I'd rather just stay home. I really don't wanna risk mine and my car's lives in an hour trip to work in shit-ass weather with all the other horrible drivers just for the 2 or so planes that are stupid enough to fly in this weather. Problem is, I hate calling out like that, because, well, first off, it's my Friday, so it'll give me a three day weekend, and because no matter what I say, they'll know I'm really calling out because of the weather, and there's this kid that has called out every day for 2 weeks straight, so managements is all pissy about people calling out. So I feel that it won't go over well...

So I gotta get new tires for my car. I was thinking Continental's ContiContactExtreme tires. They're ultra high performance tires that have best in class winter traction for right around $100 a piece. That's a decent deal right there. Sucks that I don't have the money. Course, when I do have money, I tend to spend it on stuff that I want, like my costume and DVDs and such, rather than on stuff I need, like new boots or gloves for work. I'm weird that way.

On the up side of things, I finally ordered the rest of my costume. It cost a pretty penny, but it'll be worth it. It should ship out either this week or early next week. I guess it was delayed a bit because some stuff was out of stock, and they had to make the boots, which I was unaware of.

God damn I'm tired. I've been tired as hell every day for a while now. I'm guessing it's a combination of stress from work and not sleeping well. I don't know why I haven't been sleeping well. Maybe it's my mattress or something. I dunno.

I got my excise tax bill from the town today. Apparently they think my car is only worth $8500, which is odd because it's not even a year old and cost me almost $20000. I suppose it's not too bad though, since it keeps my bill cheaper. Not so good if I wanna resell though...

Good Eats is an awesome show. Anyone ever watch that? With Alton Brown? That guy's fuckin awesome. If you've never seen the show, I suggest you watch it. It's on the Food Network. I usually catch it at 2 AM, but, you know...

Welp, I'm tired, so I'ma go to bed. Later all.

WARNING: RANT ABOUT FEMALES AND SEX AHEAD! I don't know how many, if any, of you are offended by this kinda thing(as if anyone even reads this anymore. HA) so I figure it's best to warn you first.

So anyways, I was invited to a bonfire tonight by my friend Katie, who was my first girlfriend years back. It's actually at this other girl's house. She has 'em all the time and generally it's a bunch of drunken redneck fun, which isn't normally my speed, but I need to get out of the house every once in a while, cause seriously, all I do is sit here in front of the computer all day, but I digress... Anyways, so I went, and it was just Katie, the other girl whose name is Sammi, and her boyfriend Mike, who's not a bad guy, really, but has a habit of being honest to the point of being mean. So that's good, I'm friends with both the girls, and I've met Mike enough to get along well with him, so I was much more comfortable. So I get there, and they've been drinking a bit, and before long, the conversation steers towards sex. Great. I'm probably the only guy I know that hasn't got any by now, and they all know this. So the talk starts, and it turns out Katie likes to get around. Not in a whorish kinda way, but you know... And I'm sitting there, listening to this, and the whole time, I'm thinking "I know she knows this is bothering me, so why's she doing it? Maybe I can get in on this somehow..." So, ever so gently, I start hinting at the thought of her and me continuing the party afterwards, and she either just didn't get it, or ignored me. Though, I'm thinking she got the hint, cause she started commenting on how she's more into trucks than little sporty imports like my car.

So, that rather long winded paragraph brings me to my main point: Why do women tease so much? She knows I'm desperate (well, maybe not desperate...) to get laid, I know she likes sex (as it was brought up many times), and I know that she likes me, or she wouldn't have invited me over. So why did she shut me down? Why, after all that talk, and all my hints, did I end up going home with just a quick hug when she left? Maybe it's partly my fault for not being direct enough, but I don't exactly wanna beat her over the head with it. *sigh* I dunno... It just frustrates me is all. I mean, it seems to me like I just don't know what I'm doing. All my relationships, all of them, have ended without me getting anything, and when whoever goes off to their next relationship, all of a sudden they're fucking like rabbits. I know they are, because I either hear it from her, or her boyfriend, and it really pisses me off. What the fuck did I do wrong? Or not do? What is it about me that drives women to like me, but stop short of that line? Is it my lack of confidence, cause let me tell ya, shooting me down is only gonna hurt that, not help it.

Bah, I don't even know why it bothers me so much. Maybe it's because people are constantly talking about it, and I have no input. I've heard, on occasion, that it's not all that great. Usually from some girl trying to make me feel better, but I have to ask, if it's not all that great, then why do it all the time? No one's been able to answer that one. I just feel like I'm missing out on one of the great joys of life. And for fuck sake, please please PLEASE don't tell me that "eventually you'll meet the right one" or some crap like that, cause I don't wanna hear it. I've been on this earth for 22 years now, and that seems to have been enough time for everyone else, so obviously it's on this end. Part of me wants to e-mail her, and be all WTF? Part of me wants to e-mail Sammi and ask her if she knows what the fuck I did wrong. Part of me just wants to beat on the concrete until there's nothing left but bloody stumps where my wrists once were. ARGH!

...I'm starting therapy again today. Leaving in a couple hours. Wish me luck...

EDIT: So I went. The guy seems nice enough. He's a little over 80, which I suppose I didn't expect. I...don't really know what to think about him. He seems nice enough, but there were quite a few awkward silences, and he gave me some rather generic coping mechanisms for now, and mentioned that maybe I should talk to my doctor about getting on some antianxiety meds. Our first meeting and he already mentioned medication. I just don't know... I'll go into more detail later. Maybe. If I can pull it together. I feel stressed again for some reason...

You know, I'm almost to that point where I just can't handle it anymore. Not a day goes by without me being depressed in some way, and I can't seem to get around it. I have constant headaches. I can barely function at work. I can't remember the last time I got a decent night's sleep. I'm hearing things, and I think I'm even starting to hallucinate...

My buddy Justin's trying to set me up with his therapist, but he hit a snag with that this week, so I gotta wait even longer. I don't know if I can. It takes all my concentration just to keep myself focused and not lt my mind wander on to darker things. I'd call myself but my anxieties are preventing that, and I just don't have the strength to fight them.

I'm fat, my confidence and self esteem are shot, I'm becoming increasingly paranoid, my depression and anxieties are starting to take hold of me. My friends all seem to be out of advice, and I'm fairly certain everyone's sick of hearing about my problems. It's enough to make one want to quit.

Do I even have a reason to keep going...?