I just had a very amusing (to me) mental image of a mash-up between Lord Of The Rings and Silence Of The Lambs. Gollum, as Buffalo Bill, leaning over the pit, looking panicked, it pans down to the girl holding Precious, the dog. Gollum says, "It puts The Precious in the basket." And then the regular dialog would ensue with Gollum delivering Buffalo Bill's lines. I think it'd be cool if someone made that video and put it on Youtube. If anyone's good with video, you should totally do it and share the link in the comments. That would rock.

I rushed out of work at 5pm
Plopped my ass in my car again
Welcome to the land of laziness,
hey, gotta get my rest in.

Started up the car
headed home for my free time
Look at the street and I see a really bad sign.
Traffic looks so crazy
Everybody's in my way, see?

My blood is boilin' and I'm feeling kinda home sick
Too much traffic and I'm real pissed
That's when the car ahead, it started slowing down
and its damned brake lights were on
and its damned brake lights were on
and its damned brake lights were on

CHORUS:
So I flipped the bird up
I'm honking my horn
Yellin' "Get out of my fuckin' way!"
Shakin' my fist like: Die!
Movin' my lips like: Die!
And I kept the bird up
still honking my horn
Yellin' "Get out of my fuckin' way!"
Yeah, there's some morons on the interstate.
Yeah, there's some morons on the interstate.

Get to the left, to the fastest lane
Everybody's looking at me now
Like, "Who's that dick, that's pissed as shit?
I'd better let him get around."

So hard with these cars all around me.
I notice that there is a cop right near me.
And all I see is traffic
I guess I'm gettin' kinda spastic

My engine's heating and I'm feelin kinda home sick
Too much traffic and I'm real pissed
That's when the car ahead, it started slowing down
and its damned brake lights were on
and its damned brake lights were on
and its damned brake lights were on

CHORUS:
So I flipped the bird up
I'm honking my horn
Yellin' "Get out of my fuckin' way!"
Shakin' my fist like: Die!
Movin' my lips like: Die!
And I kept the bird up
still honking my horn
Yellin' "Get out of my fuckin' way!"
Yeah, there's some morons on the interstate.
Yeah, there's some morons on the interstate.

Feel like starting up a fight (up a fight)
kickin' someone's ass tonight (ass tonight)
Why's this happen every time? (every time)
Some asshole cuts me off and I see brakelights.

CHORUS:
So I flipped the bird up
I'm honking my horn
Yellin' "Get out of my fuckin' way!"
Shakin' my fist like: Die!
Movin' my lips like: Die!
And I kept the bird up
still honking my horn
Yellin' "Get out of my fuckin' way!"
Yeah, there's some morons on the interstate.
Yeah, there's some morons on the interstate.

So, my car's wrecked, I told ya that. The bumper was precariously attached. It began to become unattached. I'll fix it with some Gorilla Glue just as soon as the snow is gone and the temperature is more moderate. For now, I removed it and placed it on my porch. So the front of my car now looks fucked up ... and if you ask me, kinda badass.

The roads were clear on my way to work today, but people were still driving as if they weren't. I respect everyone's right to drive like there is a sheet of snow on the road even when there isn't. I do not respect their choice to do it in the left lane. What is so hard about having respect on the road for other people's choices? It's easy: If you want to drive slow, feel free, I support you, but do it in the right hand lane so that I do not have to drive at the speed you have chosen to drive. Many people today couldn't grasp this simple concept.

I don't know about you, but when I see someone gaining on me in my rear view and the front of their car is fucked up, I get the hell out of their way. I mean, motherfucker has already hit something, right? Well, some of the people in front of me didn't understand this logic. So I started to get the idea that I should just leave the bumper off and weld some rollbars to the frame of the car. Beef up the front with some junkyard steel and then paint the whole mess flat black. See how many people get the fuck out of my way, then.

There's something oddly comfortable about driving a busted up wreck. It kinda conveys how I feel. Often I feel like I'm a busted up wreck myself.

On the way home, there was this jackass little car in front of me weaving in and out of traffic, slamming on his brakes, and just being a dick. There was an SUV behind me who was driving faster than me and I let him pass. When he got up to the guy who was being a dick and tried to casually pass him, the guy changed lanes and cut him off. The SUV ended up passing on the right using the shoulder of the road. As soon as the SUV was passed him, the dick got into the left hand lane and passed the SUV, and then kept cutting him off again. As I watched this, I had the idea that I should step on the gas, whip around the SUV, and jerk hard into the dickhead in the little car, forcing him off the road and into the median. I often have fantasies like this while I'm driving ... but this time it seemed more like a plan than a fantasy. Luckily I maintained my senses and stayed back ... but I'd have loved to have seen someone bump that dick off the road.

Depressed. And I'm quite tired of being depressed. There's no reason for me to be depressed. No logical reason, anyway. I'm insane, that's obvious. I have great friends. What's left of my family, my sister, brother, nephews and niece, et al, are wonderful. I'm with a great guy who cares about me and shows it, and I love him. I have a job most people would love to have. I own my house. I make enough to live comfortably. I have luxury items, including the computer I'm using to write this blog. Yet half an hour ago I was sobbing uncontrollably for no damned reason.

On the way home from work today I passed under a bridge on the way to the Interstate. I was in my warm car (that I own) and I looked over and saw several people huddled under blankets under the bridge. And older guy with a full gray beard and blankets pulled up to his chin saw me looking, saw pity in my eyes, and he smiled weakly at me. But I was not crying for those people. I should have been, sure. I was crying cause I'm fucking depressed. I feel lonely, even though there is no reason to feel lonely. I have people who care about me, people I care about. Still I feel lonely and alone, and I can't stop feeling that way.

Is some of this nicotine withdrawl? Maybe. I don't know. I should get rid of my animals, my dog and two cats ... but I can't. I can't because they are the only ones who are always there. I can't even imagine not having the dog to talk to, hell, even just to yell at.

I need meds, but meds don't even work. What I really need is marijuana. It's the only thing that really works. It's the only thing that evens me out, makes me halfway sensible. And sometimes it doesn't even work. Anti-depressants just make me apathetic. Emotionally flatlined. Gray. That's no better than being depressed. Hell, that is being depressed. Depression isn't all about sadness. They also take away your sex drive. They take away your everything drive. On anti-depressants, desire doesn't exist. Didn't for me anyway. It's just numbness, which is just as bad as the feeling I was trying to get rid of.

I don't talk about this stuff a lot. I hint at it sometimes, but I don't go in depth. There are two reasons for this. 1) I don't want sympathy. I don't want anyone to feel bad for me. That's not why I blog. That's not why I share. 2) I don't want important people in my life to think that they are somehow causing this, or that they can somehow prevent it. You aren't, and you can't. I know I am loved by friends and family. I know I am cared for a lot. There is nothing you can do, nothing you should be doing that you aren't. This isn't about what I am or am not getting from my friends and family. This is about chemical imbalances, or ... psychological imbalances within myself that are beyond my and everyone elses control.

I want it to stop. I want to feel normal again ... I hope I can.

Today the trainer gave us "practice" sheets. Ten pages, over 100 questions. My god, is it possible to bore me more? It made me remember high school. I looked at the sheets and thought, "Fuck these." I don't need practice. I'm ready for the final. Give it to me now, I'll score 100%. I don't need to look the same stuff up under different accounts 20 different times. We have two days to do the sheets. So, I picked at them, time at a standstill. I'd do a question, sit back and stare at the window, do another, twiddle my thumbs. I still got nine out of ten pages done.

Back in high school, I just wouldn't have done it. I'd have tossed it aside, picked up the latest Stephen King novel, and read til the day was out. This is how someone who tests with a genius IQ coasts through High School with a high C average. BOREDOM. There were people in the class enjoying these sheets. People who were challenged by them. OMG. These are not challenging. We have an online database at our fingertips. You simply type in a few keywords and pow, there's your answer. Why does this take practice? I suppose it does help to know how to use Boolean search terms, but still. Other questions just want you to look up an account and read a bit of information off a certain line and write what it says. Oh, so hard.

I am so ready for class to be over. I won't even learn how to do the job I was hired to do until I get out of class. What a waste of time. I feel bad about feeling that way. It's not the trainer's fault that class sucks. This is the curriculum he's supposed to teach. They could squeeze this all into a three week class, there is no need to stretch it out for six weeks. If people in the class can't keep up, then maybe they aren't smart enough to do the job. I do feel he's too nice to the dumb people and gives them too much help. If they can't get it like everyone else, then they should just be written off as failures. Let them fail the tests, don't give them extra time to complete them. Don't coach them on the answers. Ugh, okay, that's all.

Training class is driving me positively insane. I don't like changes in my routine unless I make them. I hate not being in control. Case in point, lunch is supposed to be at 12:30. That was decided by vote weeks ago. 12:30 gets here, and the trainer says we're going to keep going for a bit. NO. NO, DAMMIT, NO. And there's nothing I can do but start rocking back and forth in my chair, OCD alarms blaring, muttering to myself silently in my head, "Lunch at 12:30, definitely at 12:30. Lunch now. I should be at lunch now. Lunch at 12:30, it's past 12:30, definitely past 12:30." I need to eat, I need to smoke, I need private time. I need to get away. Nothing in the day is more important than lunch! Whatever is being talked about, drop it now, lunch now, we'll pick it up later. It's review anyway, I know this stuff, can I just cut out now? I wish this were like college where I could opt to only show up for the tests and if I passed then I passed. There's so much monotony, so much repetition. Hearing the same stuff over and over and over and over and over again is making me lose my mind. And what's worse? What's absolutely dreadful? Hearing someone else in class say, "Wait, what was that?" ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? We've been over the same shit 20 times.

What a frustrating day. Training was repetitive as the regular trainer came back and had to reteach everything we went over yesterday because nobody in class understood the material. So, we spent the entire day doing everything we did yesterday, except with explanation this time. So, now we're right back where we should have been on Wednesday of last week. Fuck.

My first check went into my bank account to cover the deficit that was left there by an unauthorized transaction that happened back in August, and now I'm having problems getting my account functional again. I have no debit card because they canceled mine, they have holds on the account, etc. On lunch, I thought I had it taken care of, used seven precious minutes of my pre-paid cell phone, but no, I wasted them on nothing because nothing has been taken care of. Another hour on the phone with the bank when I got home, and still no resolution. I have to go into the bank again tomorrow on my lunch break to try to get this shit straightened out, get a new debit card sent to me, etc.

I'm feeling very emotionally fucked today. I feel alone in a crowd. I have a lump in my throat and I don't know why ... I just want to curl up in a ball and stop existing for a little while.

Sunday, Jay and I went out, did lunch, two movies, and a quick dinner. On the way to lunch, we got pulled over in Danville for doing 45 in a 30. There's really no reason for that stretch of road to be 30 mph. When you do the speed limit on that road, it feels like you're just idling. But, also, the sticker on Jay's license plate was expired. He had the new one and when the cop asked for the registration, Jay started looking for it. He leaned into the back seat, ruffled through the items back there: a pair of blue snakeskin high heeled shoes, a cowboy hat, a pink boa, a pair of underwear, I believe, but no registration. Eventually, the cop came back and just issued a warning ... possibly terrified by the mixture of things in the back seat.

We continued to the restaurant for lunch. El Rodeo, Mexican. Mmmm. In the restroom, I saw some clever vandalism. Someone had scratched the "C" off of the "Baby Changing Station" That got a good chuckle out of me. And then it was off to see "The Fourth Kind", which was really good. Keeping with the theme of documentary-style horror, we also had "Paranormal Activity" on the agenda, but it didn't start for another hour and a half after the first movie ended, and we had some other stuff to get done. Jay needed some supplies for a craft he's making for a photo shoot, so we needed to go get that stuff. On the way from the theater to the store, we pulled up behind a truck at a stoplight and we found ourselves face to face with a dead deer. Jay took that picture of it that I linked, and as his phone was trying to auto focus, the driver and passenger both gave the thumbs up. The light took forever to change. The deer stared us down, eyes glazed over, tongue dried up and hanging out of the side of its mouth. It lay there in its forever sleep, eyes open and glazed over, engaged in a staring contest it couldn't lose. Finally the light changed and we followed it into the strip mall parking lot. There was really only one place they could have been going. I know they weren't going to Barnes and Noble. Call me prejudiced, but I don't imagine guys who drive around with dead deer in the backs of their trucks with the tailgate down do much reading. I don't think they were going to Marshalls, or to Jo-Ann Fabrics like we were. They HAD to be going to Dick's Sporting Goods. Had to. But I don't know for sure, because Jo-Ann Fabrics is at the opposite end of the strip mall from Dick's, and that's the way we turned. All I know is that the truck went in the direction of Dick's.

Jay got the supplies he needed ... well, maybe, there seems to be some design confusion. But anyway, then we went to Marshalls. I did not realize how cool that store is. They have some awesome clothes in there. And we saw this box, just the right size for writing instruments. The lid of the box had an array of miscellaneous writing tools represented, stacked haphazardly, all part of the lid, and all the same color as the rest of the box, a dull silver color. On the side of the box, a quote: "The writer must write what he has to say, not speak it. - Ernest Hemingway" It is totally awesome, and totally me. And Jay ... well, he said, "You absolutely have to have this," and he picked it up. And he bought it for me. He is completely wonderful, and sweet. And as much as I liked that box when it was on the store shelf, I like it even more now.

After that we stopped at Target for some snacks to sneak into the movie with us. No, we didn't sneak ourselves into the movie, just the snacks. "Paranormal Activity" was a dud, and after the movie we went to Wendy's. There was a woman in front of us in line demanding to speak with the manager, with whom she was already speaking, complaining that they wouldn't take her coupon for a free Frosty. The manager was trying to explain to her that they are independently owned and are not one of the "participating locations" but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer. She told the manager he would have to tell her child that he couldn't have the ice cream even though the coupon said, "Free Frosty" on it. She neglected to mention that the child should also be aware that the coupon said, "Valid only at participating locations" at which she was not. The manager just looked at her, said nothing, so she looked at her own child and explained to him that he couldn't have the ice cream because they wouldn't take the coupon. As I was staring at this scene, flabbergasted, I missed what was going on behind me, but the other guy behind the counter set a frosty down for the child, who was about five, and explained to the manager and the lady that someone else in the restaurant had offered to pay for the frosty for the boy. The woman took the frosty and her coupon and left the restaurant without thanking the man who paid for her son's ice cream with her head held high and threatening to call Channel Six News about the incident. I certainly hope she did not get the impression that any of us were impressed with her shenanigans. I feel for that poor child, who will endure much embarrassment at the hands of his mother for the rest of his life. She did not thank the man. She did not say, "no, no, I'll pay for my son's frosty." She did not give the man her free frosty coupon, or even offer it. She did not leave without the frosty and announce that on principal, she no longer wanted and and would go purchase a Dairy Queen Blizzard for her son. No. She was a tool, over ninety-seven cents, which is what the man paid for her frosty.

But, crazy lady aside, I enjoyed my dinner, and Jay and I spent the bulk of it talking about the strange scene that had unfolded in front of us. And then we topped the day off with two more episodes of Buffy, season 2. It was a very good day, and the first outing that Jay and I can actually call a proper date. I had a really good time.

I have not been blogging as much as I would like. This has created a blog vacuum, and so I write this blog to eliminate that vacuum. If there is nothing, and you add something, nothing ceases to exist. One reason I have not been blogging: I have been busy. Not overly busy, I guess. I'm sure I could fit blogs in here and there, but I feel like I have so much to do. This is my last week of freedom. I start work next week. Ugh. I hate work. But, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. It's a brand new day. I have three more weekdays to be free before I have to join the ranks of the working again. I'm dreading having to go to work every day, but I'm looking very forward to the paychecks, and actually being able to afford things and get my past bills caught up. Yes, the money part will be good. Jobs suck. They all do, but this one will at least give me benefits, paid days off, and enough money to live off of. The work itself will be monotonous and boring, but I can deal with monotonous and boring ... what I can't deal with is helping 80 year old women get on the Internet. "Click on 'My Computer'" "I don't have that." "It's on your desktop, it should be in the upper right hand corner." "I don't see it." Sweet fuck, open your eyes, Granny, read the screen, you have Windows XP I guarantee you 'My Computer' is on your fucking desktop. And there I sit with a bloody handful of my own hair and I've bitten clean through my bottom lip as I speak sugary sweet to the old lady and pretend I'm not frustrated. I'm a good actor, but I simply don't want to put that much into my performances anymore. Ugh. So glad I 'm done with that.

Another reason I haven't been blogging a lot is because I'm happy. There is currently no conflict in my life. I'm happy, content, I feel great. I could just blog every day about how good things are right now, but that would get very boring very quickly for the reader. Sure, not everything is great, I haven't been meeting my writing goals, so that's not cool. I hurt my back today which is going to put a stop to my upper body workouts, which I love to do. No, I wasn't doing an upper body workout when I hurt my back, I was twisting in an unnatural way to retrieve something from my storage room and I think I pulled something around my left shoulder blade. So that's not very pleasant. I keep planning on getting more cleaning done, and never seem to make much headway. Okay, so, I guess there is some conflict. But overall, big picture, life is really great right now.

The blog has been quiet for a while now. That's not because I haven't felt like writing, and it's not because I had nothing to say. I had plenty to say, plenty I wanted to say, a hell of a lot to talk about. But I couldn't post any of it in a public forum until I explained a few things to the people closest to me. That has been done now.

What a long, strange trip it's been. If someone had approached me six months ago and tried to tell me where I would be today, what I would be doing, how I would be feeling, I would have laughed in their face and told them to go take their meds.

If you've been keeping up on my blog, you know the story up to a point. If you haven't been keeping up on my blogs, why not? Stop now, go read them all, then come back. I'll pick up where I left off. I'll skip over the cooking, cleaning, home repairs, those were filler blogs because I couldn't talk about what was on my mind. I left off at the point where I decided to let go of the feelings I was holding onto concerning Heather. After a month of holding on to them and at the same time trying to get over her because I knew she probably was not staying, and that nothing I did would change her mind, actually letting go was fairly easy, because most of the work had been done. I did go through the grieving process again, but acceptance came easier this time. Heather and I kind of easily slid into a very comfortable platonic relationship, not like the tense, forced stressful interaction we had been experiencing. Once I truly let go, truly accepted that it was over, done with, once and for all, it was easy to immediately let her back in as a friend. I wasn't sure I would be able to do that. I thought I might harbor some resentment for her, but I didn't, which was surprising.

Throughout all of this, from the beginning, my friends have been there for me. All of my friends supported me every step of the way, gave me advice, made me feel better, and Jay was one of those friends. He was very supportive during the whole process of my breakup with Heather. I've known Jay for ten years, but after Heather broke up with me, I started spending a lot more time with him. And I liked spending time with him a great deal. Then, after I was completely over Heather romantically and had accepted that she and I are just really good friends, and kind of realized that's all we really have been for some time before she ever broke up with me, and I had decided logically and rationally that I needed some time to stay single, something began to happen.

Jay and I have always had a really good connection. We've always considered each other great friends even though we really never spent a whole lot of time together. There was always just this connection there that was kind of inexplicable. For instance, our lives have seemed to run parallel courses. When I was meeting Heather online and moving to Cleveland, he met someone at the very same time and moved to ... Columbus. Both met someone, uprooted our lives, and moved to Ohio. That's the largest example, but there were all kinds of little things. If I was going through something difficult, I could almost bet money on the fact that Jay was, too.

I spent more time with all of my friends after Heather and I ended. Some of them live too far away for me to afford gas on my budget, but those friends talked to me online and on the phone a great deal. But in spending more time with Jay, I began to notice a shift in how I felt about him. I began to really look forward to seeing him, and when I did see him, I didn't want to leave. I think I always knew, somewhere deep down, that there was something more there. I think that's one of the reasons I never made it a point to try to spend more time with him when I was in a relationship.

I've always known I was bisexual. I've known that since I knew what sex was. I was pretty young when I learned what sex was. I didn't experience it at a young age, but I was well aware of what it was. For a very long time, I fought with myself internally concerning my attraction to guys. My attraction to women I was comfortable with, that was normal, every guy had that, but my attraction to guys would ostracize me, people don't accept that, it's not "normal", or so they say. So I kept it a secret, and I tried to deny it to myself. During the more spiritual moments in my life, I would beg God to take it away. But you know what happened? He didn't. I would beg him to help me to get rid of it. He didn't. I tried to wish it away, push it away, for years I tried. But you know what? It's still there. At some point I realized, if God didn't want this to be a part of me, first, he wouldn't have made it a part of me, and second, he would have taken it away when I asked him to, begged him to. He, at the very least would have helped me to repress it and keep it there. But he didn't. Because it's part of who I am, part of who I am supposed to be, and there is nothing wrong with it no matter how many times you quote the bible out of context and twist its meaning. Bottom line, the bible doesn't say that being gay is wrong. I know. I was very concerned. I studied it. The passages that do make it appear that homosexuality is wrong have been largely mistranslated from the original text. Men wrote the bible. Inspired by God, yes, but not written by Him. It was written by men, translated and retranslated and retranslated by men. If you believe that the bible says homosexuality is wrong, then you also must believe that if your son misbehaves, you should take him to town hall and let your neighbors stone him to death. Cause that's also in the bible (Deuteronomy 21:18-21). So, my point? Don't tell me that my feelings I can't help feeling because I was born with them are wrong unless you are willing to let your neighbors stone your son to death. K?

So, where was I? Ah, yes. Jay. I began to realize that I liked Jay a bit more than you should like your friends. I once again had something that was secret, that I couldn't talk about. I wrote a few cryptic blogs concerning different paths available to me and not knowing what I wanted anymore, but then I just quit writing even those, because there was no point. I was sure that my feelings were one-sided, so I was just going to keep them to myself and try to work through them, if I could. Then, at some point, I decided I couldn't do that, and I had to tell him no matter the outcome. I mostly expected him to tell me about our ten year friendship that he didn't want to risk losing. Also, I still wasn't absolutely positive that I would be able to be with a guy. I kind of pictured being with a guy would be just like being friends coupled with a committed sexual relationship. I didn't think that having romantic feelings for another guy was possible for me. My interest in men had always been purely physical.

As it turns out, I didn't get the chance to tell Jay that I was a little too happy to see him when we hung out. I had told him, as I had told everyone, that I felt that I was finally completely over Heather, and that I was in a place where I thought I was going to start dating again. Apparently, he was feeling the same way about me as I was about him ... because things kind of took off without me having to say anything about it. And then I realized ... it was not only possible for me to develop romantic feelings for a guy, but it was happening, had happened, and when I think back on our friendship, started happening a long time ago. When I think back, I was always just a little too happy to see an email from Jay, or a request to hang out. I never analyzed it or thought much about it, but ... yeah. If I want to be honest with myself, I've been crushing on Jay for a very very long time.

At first, he and I had talked about just rolling with it, staying friends, seeing where it went. I had just gotten out of a six year relationship, and I had to make sure that this was not just me running to the first person who looked at me. But I knew it wasn't. I knew there was something deeper there with Jay. Besides, logically, I had decided to stay single, I wanted to stay single. I wasn't looking for someone to run to. I was prepared to be looked at, to be wanted, I was prepared to date without commitment. But, then Jay happened. :) Jay, who I had wanted for so long without even realizing it. Next thing I knew I had made up my mind to tell my family and friends that I was bi, had always been bi, and was getting involved with a guy who was a good friend of mine. And a few days after I made up my mind to do it, it was done. I told everyone. Jay never asked me to do that. In fact, he wanted to make sure I didn't think it was something he expected of me. And I didn't think that he required that. I wanted to do that because Jay was making me very happy when I was with him, and when I emailed him, and when I talked to him in any way, and I can't hide my happiness, or its cause, from my friends and family.

It didn't take us long to decide that, yes, we are together, officially. And I am happy. I am extremely happy. And he's happy, which makes me even happier, because I like seeing him happy. I like knowing that I have helped to make him happy.

Obviously, I have much more to say about all of this. But these are the basics, and I will stop here for now.