"Amid the sufferings of life on earth, suicide is God’s best gift to man."

You can be sad as you want to.
No one can punish me like I do.



In youth, we are much more easily satisfied. With age comes an unquenchable thirst for things, a wanting which can slowly eat us up.
When I remember my first love, I recall feeling like I'd be happy as long as we were married, feeling like I would need nothing else. Eight years later, this sentiment is gone, although my feelings for him remain. I have found a new love, yet one which does not diminish the first, but this romantic love could never restrain a more mature wanting...the desire to be my own person and to have my own purpose. The people I love and my desired course can only coexist peacefully when they encourage my ambition. And to me, that is a true sign of their affection.
I have heard it said that "Ambition is the ice in the lake of emotion," and that may sometimes be true, but it is a dangerous generalization. If pursuing the goal of being the person you believe you were meant to be is selfish, then I don't want to be anything but. However, to me becoming this person, the best person you can be, is proof of love.
I now believe it is possible to be ambitious and still love completely.
I now believe that it is possible to be in love with more than one person at a time.
I no longer wish to marry.
"How time distorts things."

Lately I've been thinking about how conceited people are self-centered, but in their own way, self-loathers aren't much different. Both types of people make everything about themselves, whether inadvertently or intentionally.
Having a tendency towards self-loathing myself, I've noticed an uncontrollable, paranoia which comes in waves, the feeling that everyone hates being around me. Only recently did I realize that reading into every little thing, the slightest unintentional insult, a person's mere absence, reading into these things and making them about myself is self-centered. And as part of the reason I hate myself is my potent desire to not be one of those people who loves myself too much, this is something I hope to avoid in the future.

We are complicated creatures, but we must never cease our efforts to truly understand ourselves.

Three down...

I know I haven't written in a while.
Unfortunately, my Uncle Gary recently lost his battle with ALS.
I was helping my mom with this bowling benefit to aid my Aunt Tina in paying his left over medical bills. In the end she brought in about $5,000 which might not be much, but will come in handy.

I was also working on finishing up my latest screenplay, my third, Singing Swans.
It's all done now. I revised it, but of course there will be mistakes I can't see and things I can't correct until others have read it, but being that the subject-matter is kind of taboo on two fronts and that it's more sexually explicit than anything I've written before (although in reality, I used tricks to get around making it too dirty), I don't know how quickly my volunteers will get through it. It might be uncomfortable.

I'm to that point where I finish something and then I feel empty.
It makes me feel as if I have to start something else immediately or I have no sense of purpose, especially now that I'm done with school and don't have a job.

I applied for three jobs today and eight internships.
Beyond the scripts, there's always poetry, and music, but until I can make it on my own, nothing I do feels worthwhile.

I submitted Good Grief to the Nantucket Film Festival and Singing Swans and hopefully my next script, I'll submit to Austin.

I was also going to audition for Glee, but my brother was a real douche about it and so once again, I don't think I'll have the confidence to try, despite the best efforts of friends I don't deserve to convince me to do it.

Anyway, that's what's crackin'.

If anyone's interested in reading it, you're welcome to, but if you're really ageist or homophobic, I don't recommend it.

I'll share a bad poem I wrote at like 4am last night/this morning.

Why must I have a tender heart
So quick to take a bruise
Why must I find the truth in words
Others can refuse
Why must the ugly always distract
From the one thing I should see
Why isn't the pretty, the good, the praise
As much a part of me
Why is it only jabs and jeers
Repeat inside my head
Why have I built a wall which blocks
Whatever else is said
Why do you not all leave me
Beneath rubble of words I hear
I'm buried too deep and all rescue efforts
Now seem insincere

20 years mystery of stomach problems solved?

Went to an allergist.
Today I found out I'm allergic to Coffee, cola, gluten, wheat, yeast, milk, soy, pineapple, tomato, sesame, mustard, rye, walnuts, almonds, apples, clams, black pepper, chocolate (could be fatal, my throat closes up and I have to carry these epi-pens wherever I go), oh, and coconut.

Now I have to start a gluten free diet, but maybe I won't feel sick all the time.

Congratulations on ruining America...

Never mind the fact that the health care bill gives racial preferences which are unconstitutional and violate the Civil Rights Act.
Never mind that it will increase the deficit to an unprecedented degree.
Never mind that even liberal media reported that at least 6 out of every 10 Americans didn't want it passed.
Just ignore all those people in the lobby screaming "Kill the bill," those people, your constituents.
Just ignore the fact that the AMA is made up of only 17% of doctors, so having their approval doesn't mean anything. Ignore the fact that most doctors hated this idea.
Ignore the process, ignore the constitution, ignore the people, ignore everything which made this country great.
Obama was a constitutional scholar.
To study it and still ignore it or find ways to bypass it shows that he has no respect for it. If you don't respect this document, the greatest document every created in the history of the world, then you don't respect America.
He is officially the worst president in history.
Words cannot describe how much I hate him.

You belong in poetry...

And you belong in fine things, but you belong to someone else.
You belong to no one town.

You alone are holy.
You alone are beauty.
And you alone are lonely now.

You really let it out
For just a moment and I could see how.
You’d only lay me down on sheets that tear and give out.
I’ve never known a love ‘til now.

"You see women...on TV, in the movies, and they get left or whatever.
You just wanna kick 'em, they're so whiny.
Look at me."

Is there any feeling more humiliating and useless than the feeling of being in love?
It's embarrassing, feeling dominated by something you have absolutely no control over. Or perhaps, more accurately, someone. You can't make someone love you, especially not when you aspire to be who you are and not what they want.
You can't make someone stick around, no matter how much you may want them to.
And even when someone's a reason to get up in the morning, they might not think of you all day.
People act like being in love is such a wonderful thing..."What grace have I to fall so in love?"
But it can be an agony growing inside you, taking on a life of its own, like a child in the womb.

Most girls I knew couldn't wait to fall in love, pretended it, even before it happened. They wrote names of boys on notebooks, dreamed of weddings, named imaginary children.
I never wanted that.
I never wanted to be the kind of person who felt possessed by thoughts of someone else, but that's what I've become. To think of one person every day, without fail, and several times a day, makes me feel pathetic.
To spend so much time thinking about something which was never truly mine, someone whose hand I've never even touched and in all likelihood, will never touch, seems absurd.
It seems I've lost someone who might have been a dream, but is there any loss greater than the loss of a dream?

I wonder about karma.
I tell people that no one's ever loved me, but I don't think that's true.
What I mean is that no one I've loved has ever loved me back and that's only mostly true.
What is true, is that I haven't treated the people who fall in love with me very well. In most cases, this was only because I didn't love them back and not loving them was enough to hurt them. But to be honest, when I was younger, I was far less tactful, and what is now my best attempt at a gentle disappointment was once purposeful destruction.
Maybe I deserve what I'm feeling now because of my past mistakes.

I spend my time thinking about someone who seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.
A ghost who now hates me or doesn't care for me, who not long ago seemed to admire me.

What does one do with all that pain?

I'm not to that point in my story.

Oscar show for Hop on Pop Culture...

We had no cameraman. Our tripod sinks.
It happens.

Use whichever link you prefer...or both, simultaneously.
Comments are welcome.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-34D3im9nE

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=103400213

I raised a flag up into your heart.

You let the winds come tear it apart.

I went to an allergist on Monday because my brother just found out he has a lot of food allergies. Given that he never had any symptoms and I've had stomach problems since I was two, and Upper GIs, Lower GIs, stomach scopes, ultrasounds, etc, found nothing, my mom thought it was a good idea.

I don't get the results back for a month, but my new doctor is really concerned by how many different symptoms I have. He made me fill a prescription for epinephrine injections and I'm to carry them with me wherever I go.
I'm never to eat chocolate again because the reaction could be fatal.
He thinks Celiac disease is likely.

It's not that big a deal and even if I had to eat slop for the rest of my life I'd prefer it to feeling nauseous a few times a day, not to mention other more serious and disgusting symptoms.

I'm actually afraid that I won't be allergic to anything else and they'll never find out what's wrong with me.

I told the people in my immediate family what's going on and I only felt like telling one other person about it, but I sense some new apathy when it comes to me...and it really doesn't feel worth mentioning.

If my throat closes up and I die, I can only imagine a few people at my funeral anyway, most of them to support my family, not out of any affection for me.
I'm such a winner.
...Now with allergies;)