Infinity

I've been thinking about infinity lately, and specifically how it
applies to creative works. If it is indeed true (and I am no
authority on that sort of physics, or any sort of physics for that
matter) that there are an infinite number of universes in which an
unlimited number of possible worlds exists, than anyone who is
writing a story right now is actually just writing a non-fiction
account of something that has already happened. They don't know it,
but whatever story, however comical or horrible or life-affirming,
in a sense isn't a story at all, it's just something you are
imagining in this world but is actively happening in another.

Don't Touch Me

When I touch people or things sometimes I get feelings from them.
It's not something I really question anymore, because it's happened
too many times when people's emotions have overwhelmed my barriers
and their unmediated fears and pain have flowed across from their
bodies into mine.

I held my anorexic friend's hand between mine at a party on the
weekend, because I wanted to send her warmth because she's always
cold, because her body can't produce enough body heat for her
anymore. She said something along the lines of "Are you sending
warmth to me? That's so weird!" I suppose she felt that something
more was happening, and that it just wasn't simply my body heat
that was making her hand feel warmth.

After a few moments though, I felt a piercing, chilling cold reach
from her into my being. I know it's going to sound completely
cliché, but it felt like death. Before I could never have said what
it felt like to have anorexia, because I had never fault that
horrible chill in my body as it failed to keep me warm and safe,
because it didn't have the energy anymore.

I can say now that I have felt it, if only just for a moment.

Mixed Conclusions

I'm comfortable with people being attracted to me. Well, not when
I'm not attracted to them, and even when we're mutually attracted
to each other my confusion about my sexuality and my other hang-ups
pretty much doom the relationship before it begins (which it
doesn't) but still, I can say that when someone is attracted to me
I generally know what to do about. I avoid them, and when they
track me down to tell me they like me, I say that I don't like them
in that way and then we both sort of pretend it never happened and
get on with out lives.

But what do you do when someone is attracted to you but refuses to
admit it?

That sentence looks confusing, so I'll attempt to explain. My
friend is attracted to me, but he maintains he is not gay, ergo he
cannot be attracted to me. Everyone around is pretty much convinced
he is at least bisexual (which I don't have a problem with, having
been raised in a very open household and probably actively
encouraged to be homosexual) but he remains in denial about himself.

I can sympathize with this completely, because I'm not open or okay
with my sexuality at all yet, and I can't seen a near future when I
will be. That being said, I don't put people around me in the
situation of having to deal with my advances under my constant
statements that they aren't advances at all. I don't go up to other
guys and start touching them all the while maintaining that it's
all a joke.

Do you get where I am going with this? it's sinister because I
can't tell him to stop, or at least be honest with what he is doing
with calling him out on being attracted to men.

It's a very annoying position to be in, and I'm not sure how to
solve it.

Addictions Unsaid

In an ironic turn of events, the day after myself and two friends
spend an enjoyable evening drinking tea and making fun of the
educational comics on the Alcoholics Anonymous website another
friend unknowingly makes me admit to myself that I am still
addicted to pornography.

She also said she was against pornography because it is harmful to
people's image of what sex is (which is what my mother told me when
she found out I was looking at it) and she also said that it
becomes unhealthy for people and removes them from being able to be
aroused by natural things.

The problem isn't that I don't agree with her; I do agree with her.
The problem is that I try and stop and then in a moment of weakness
or boredom or anger or any other emotion I turn to my addiction.

I have to find a way to cut it out of my options of ways to make
myself feel better, or I'm never going to get a
girlfriend/boyfriend and have sex.

Which would be a major social faux-pas. Maybe I'll take up skeet-
shooting.

--
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Out of Sorts

The semester has begun again, and all I can say is it's very nice
to be away from home again. That being said, everything isn't all
peaches and giggles. Whatever the hell that means.

My friends are all out at different parties, but I didn't really
have it in me. One of my best friends today fell into a
conversation with me about depression, and about how she has
decided to go back onto Prozac. It got me thinking about the ways I
deal with my own depression, and about my objections to putting
anti-depressants in my body.

It's not that I think that they don't work for a lot of people. My
father was on Prozac after his law practice collapsed, and I think
he really helped him deal with his problems. I just could never
imagine altering my brain chemistry on a semi-permanent basis.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy mind-altering chemical compounds as
much as the next person, but I can't imagine having them as a
permanent part of my brain activity.

I wonder if that means that my bouts of sadness aren't really
depression, in that if they were I would not stop to think about
the philosophical issues and just take the chemicals and hope for
the relief the pharmaceutical industry promises.

Disgust And Pity Are Intertwined

I talked with my Mom for two hours tonight. We talked about a lot
of things.

We talked about how one of her friends has cancer now and how she
feels like she an invisible disability.

We talked about how anti-depressants never worked for her, and she
said it was because she isn't depressed.

We talked about how she feels more pity for her friend than for my
father, and that she lost all trust for my father when she found
him looking at pornography.

We talked about how I think she dismisses whatever psychiatrists
and psychologists by criticizing them or using their flaws to not
listen to what they have to say.

We talked about how she thinks the two problems she has are my
father and finding a new job after she was fired from her last one.

Those are not the only two problems my mother has. Some of her
other ones are alcoholism and manic-depression. My mother is in
very deep denial about things we all know to be true, but never
talk to her about. It is only when I really think about this fact
that it seems strange and dishonest to constantly keep silent to
her about the problems she has which we all recognize but have
silently agreed never to address.

Sometimes I wonder if she knows that we are constantly keeping
things from her, that we no longer acknowledge her as a human being
completely in control of herself anymore.

I think that would hurt more than anything, if she really knew that
we all talked about her behind her back, that we discussed all the
things that were wrong with her and what a horrible person she
sometimes is.

At least she has excuses for her behaviour, but what are our
justifications? How can we go about living in complicity with
things we know are wrong but never confront them? How can I feel
like letting things slide further and further along a path I know
leads in further depression and possibly suicide and feel like I am
a good person, let alone a good son?

How can I accept that there is no right path out of this, and that
things may never improve, and that my mother could die like this,
without ever escaping?

Overload

I'm almost done my exams, and currently my brain feels like it is
filled with a mixture of equal parts mothballs and dust bunnies. We
had a party last night, to celebrate the completion of most of our
exams, so my room is filled with empty wine and liquor bottles.

Sparkling wine with raspberries is delicious.

I decided during the course of the party that I don't in fact like
the girl I thought I did. Which is confusing, but hey, if my
emotions and thoughts weren't confusing to me I'd know what the
hell was going on, that would make for a more fulfilling but less
interesting life.

Also, I wouldn't get to write about my horrible, dramatic problems,
and this post would be full of things like, "I'm more in love than
I've ever been before" and, "The world is a beautiful place, and
I'm just so glad to live in it." See, much less interesting.

I've decided that when I go back home I'm going to try and attempt
a complete detoxification of my life. No more pornography, no more
erotica, no more horrible food, no more wasting the majority of my
time thinking about those things and the harm they are causing me.
Whenever I feel the urge to have pizza, I'll stuff my face with
salad. I might get addicted to salad, but I think that's a socially
acceptable addiction. Whenever I feel the urge to masturbate, I'm
going to go on a long walk or practice the piano. I don't know if
it will work, but at the least I might walk more and get better at
the piano.

I get the feeling that the biggest thing stopping me from changing
things in my life is that I continually put them off. It's ironic
that I'm putting off these improvements to when I get home, but I
think a change of scenery and pace is just what I need to acquire
the momentum I need.

We'll see how this works out. In the mean time, I need to go look
at pictures of naked boys and chomp down on a few cheeseburgers.

I'm kidding. I think.

Trivialities

It's cold here, so I'm wearing long johns under my jeans. They're
showing through the wholes in my jeans, but it's comfortable, so it
doesn't matter.

I should be studying, but I have other things on my mind. Whether I
should call a girl I think I like. Whether I should go and make
some tea. Whether I should work with my brother this summer or
travel.

For the amount of what-ifs I have, nothing really seems to happen.
The two may be connected.

I keep wanting to go back and see what I've written. I'm sure there
are mistakes in my previous posts, and I'm a perfectionist and
don't want anyone reading to ever think I could make grammar
mistakes.

I'm halfway through the Iliad. Everyone panned Troy, but so far
it's been a pretty accurate adaption. Lots of people are killed in
various gruesome ways. Although they left out everything to do with
the Gods and Goddesses, which was a mistake in my opinion. It's
some of the most entertaining stuff in the poem.

Conflictions and Addictions

I think I'm trying to go cold turkey off too many things at once.
My attempt to eat healthy has caused me to realize that I start to
imagine myself eating gooey pizza after a few days without a good
grease fix, and my self-imposed ban on masturbation has somehow
turned most of my body into an erogenous zone. It's less fun than
it sounds.

I've been very conflicted about my sexuality for years, but things
are getting even more confused, if that's possible. I'm thinking
I'm bisexual at this point. I was leaning towards thinking I was
only attracted to men but recent events have proven I'm definitely
attracted to women too. I guess it's like that Woody Allen quote.

It could also just be that without masturbating my body is willing
to respond to <i>any</i> kind of stimulation, no matter the gender
of the person causing it.

The last few days have really taught me how it is to control your
body. I don't mean the automatic stuff, like walking and talking
and so on, but the more primal things. It's so difficult to tell
your body that it won't get what it wants, even if it's readily
available.

Mrs. Warren's Profession & etc.

Boning up on my backlog of course readings. It's gotten colder here
but hasn't snowed a lot more.

Talked to my mother this morning. Well, she talked and I held the
phone. It was a good fifteen minute long phone conversation too, I
checked the timer on the phone just to make sure.

Helped the friend I serenaded yesterday pick out the right pictures
for her assignment. Right now I should go start History.

Will post something more interesting later on.

Exam Schedule

My exams are next week, so I spent about half an hour making up a
schedule for studying for them. I think that was a mistake, because
I felt much happier not knowing how little free time I will have
for the next week and a half.

My attempt to eat healthy has fallen by the wayside, but I will try
again tomorrow.

My friend and I serenaded our friend who works at a coffee shop.
She said we made her day, so I suppose we justified our existence
for a little while longer.

That wasn't meant to sound depressing, it was a question my mother
would ask us at the dinner table, and we always had to have a good
answer. I can't remember if I ever thought I would cease existing
if I didn't have an answer, but I don't remember saying my last
words just before dinner at any point.

Videogame Dream

I had a dream last night that was seriously fucked up. I was in the
middle of something that appeared like a videogame, only the people
around me were real.

The first part of the game was something out of Rambo, in that I
was infiltrating some sort of tropical army camp for a reason I
can't remember.

Then the game switched and me and three other people were floating
down a very flat and straight river. When we reached the end we saw
that the river was actually about to run off a straight cliff and
the water was almost level with rocks that were blocking the
river's flow. Somehow I knew that it would be bad if the river
overflowed down the cliff.

The dream then switched gears entirely (or else I can't remember
the transition) but now I was competing to be the hero or champion
in a great cosmic struggle. Myself and the other challengers were
running down a long hallway towards a series of open doors. I knew
that the first person to reach one of the doors would become the
champion. I fell through the door first and turned around and saw
everyone watching me as I began to fall down an incredibly long
tunnel.

The next thing I remember in the dream is being back at the
tropical army base, only now in addition to humans there were
creatures that reminded me of a velociraptor that I had to fight as
well. I was in some sort of motorboat but it was really had to
control and I crashed into someone's hut. There was a man in the
bedroom of the hut who was sick, and he told me so was everyone
else at the camp.

Then I got on top of him and we started to have sex, and then I
woke up.

Diet

My appetite and portion size has increased slowly but considerably
over the last few months. I'm going to have to cut down, which will
suck, because my body is now used to a certain amount of food and
will complain when that gets reduced.

In other news, my roommate seems to be taking the death of his
father pretty well. Movies have taught me that he should now be a
completely different person, and should be more in touch with his
feelings.

Movies were wrong. He's the same as he ever was.

Or he's just in denial about his father's suicide, and he's
liquoring and smoking pot to keep himself in an intoxicated state
so he doesn't really have time to think about it.

I'm not sure which one is true.

First Post

Well, here we go again.

Every time I start one of these things, I start to think about what
I've said and how horrible or true or meaningless it is and I stop
writing. So, instead of dealing with my issues in a rational and
mature way, I've decided to take the easy way out. I'm not going to
read what I wrote before. I'm not saving these emails, and after
this blog is completely set up I will never look at it again.

I won't know if these emails are even getting there.

And hopefully I will be okay with that, because I'm going to have
to deal with it one way or the other.

Welcome, if you are reading this. If it got to you, or anyone at
all.

If not, well, I guess you're a special kind of crazy, in that you
imagine reading things that have actually been written but never
could have reached you.