February 11, 2005

While still encapsulated in my self-imposed hell, I have had a rather normal time of things so far otherwise.  Yes, I still refuse to discuss this hell here.  Those that are worthy of knowing why I am in this hell have already been told about my struggle filled with indecision personally.  Those that have not been told need assume nothing for you know nothing.  Just because you read my words does not mean that you know me, or would want to know me.  I am crazy, that is a fact, and not everyone can handle a crazy acquaintance.

I use the word acquaintance simply because, as I have discussed before, I am as hesitant to throw around the word friend as I am the word love.  I have tons of acquaintances.  I have very few friends.  But that discussion has already been had and it is time to move past that.

My life has been opened up to new experiences.  Or I guess revisited experiences given my past nymphomania.  “Details!  Details!  Details!”  I can almost hear you screaming, but no, discretion is key.  Suffice it to say that Kitty has been feeling very satisfied lately and has been in a much better mood because of it.  This is not simply just ‘getting some’ to use the vernacular, but getting some in the way I need it.  Let’s leave it at that.

I finally met the previously mentioned obsession for a video gaming session.  He’s less an obsession now and more a pen pal.  I was hesitant to meet however, because even though I have been communicating with this person for a few weeks now, I still hold onto a certain fantasy in my head of how someone will be.  Not a sexual fantasy, you perverts, but and idealistic view of how someone acts, behaves, dresses, etc.  However, a bigger fear than that of dashing my fantasy image to the ground is the one of dashing his fantasy to the ground.  You see, here, I am profound, wickedly intelligent, decisively evil, and only post those photos which highlight my best attributes; I am quite egotistical and arrogant to be honest.  However, the reality is I am quite self-effacing, unassured, and unconfident of my beauty.  (I know I am wickedly intelligent, there is no modesty there.)  Years of being taunted have more than made me insecure about my looks, and no matter what anyone says I will always doubt my beauty.  I am sensual, passionate, desirable, but not beautiful.  I will however take compliments quite willingly.  :)  Enough of my self-image issues and back to the point.  The obsession was as nice and friendly as I would have assumed, though it was similar to spending time with my little brother.  Amazing how one’s perceptions of how interactions will go are dashed by reality.  Nonetheless, a good time was had by all and Stephen, I would SO kick your ass in Area 51 had it been working.  (See, it’s on the internet now, you have to believe it.)

This semester at UCF continues to disillusion me.  I’ve asked a few of my co-workers, “Have you ever been in a class where the very essence of what is being taught goes against everything you believe in?”  Many have said yes, that you just ignore it, get your ‘A’, and move on.  However that is so hard to do when one is repeatedly force-fed ideals that are not their own.  What I am rambling about here is my Interviews and Interrogations class.  The first half of this class is based on learning the laws behind interrogations, Miranda and such, and then HOW TO GET AROUND THEM!  Um, excuse me, I’m sorry, but I thought the Supreme Court ruled a certain way to protect those liberties, not for officers to figure out how to squash them anyway.  This is one of the required classes for my degree (I don’t know why, I won’t be interviewing the dead people I cut up.  I might talk to them, maybe even dance with a few, but I sure in hell won’t be interrogating them).  I thought the class would be innocent enough.  I did not realize that it would be a continuous lecture in how to trick people into relinquishing their constitutional rights.  Perhaps it was not the best idea to pursue a degree filled with police and wannabe police officers when I fight authority with every breath.  However, I keep looking at that goal of finish in a year, and try to move past the insanity that is being shoved down my throat. 

Ah well, perhaps it is my own hell that is causing me to view the world so cynically.  I feel as if I am not inside my skin lately.  Perhaps it is just the personalities finally separating (for those new here who are worried about my insanity, refer to the first posting where I explain it all).  I feel almost detached lately.  Detached from what I am doing, detached from others, detached from the human race…it’s as if I want to scream, “Don’t you see how silly this all is?  How useless these emotions are?  How this sadness or pain is unwarranted?  It all doesn’t matter.  Why are enslaved by these sentiments?  Why do we not just live, eat, fuck, sleep, die?”  Some would say, well this is what separates us from the animals, this higher level of thought that entails the ability to feel.  No, I know my dog loves me, by the way he wines whenever I go in another room until I come out, by the way he greets me every day after work, by the way he’s jealous of others that show me attention.  There is no separation of emotion.  We are all slaves of these ties.  I suppose that is what makes us who we are, how we react emotionally to the daily occurrences in our prosaic little lives.  It’s just sometimes, the futility of it all seems overwhelming…