My flights back home to Boston are tomorrow.

I’m taking all night to pack and fix up the computer for my parents.

I could have a happy life here. I left at least one true friend behind.

I don’t have a tenth of the social support in Boston that I have here in T Bay.

It hurts to go back.

Mmmmm. I’m spending Christmas with my parents and sister in my hometown. The house I grew up in is so small.

It’s cold in the finished basement where my old room is. It gets my feet first, then my hands.

I’m on here writing for the sake of writing. My dad is getting old now. It’s sad to see your parents age. It seems like I’ve been obsessed with aging ever since I turned 29. Fuck me, I don’t want to be 30. Actually I don’t want to be 30 and still single. 29 and single is hip. 30 and single is sad.

Last night I dreamed that I was in Montreal with ******.

We were outside. In front of us was a giant black curtain that stretched from the sky to the ground. Many people were lined up at the curtain. One by one they would drop down and do an obscenely low limbo under the curtain through to the other side. ****** and I did the same. On the other side was an enormous, colourful cathedral. All the people were streaming down the center aisle to receive communion. More people continued in behind us.

In an instant, I was at the front of the line before the priest. He smiled and placed the wafer into my folded hands. I failed to remember what to say as I did the sign of the cross. He watched me falter, stopped the line, and took me aside. Then he started instructing me on the proper protocol with a booming voice as thousands watched from behind. I listened, yet still couldn’t follow his instructions. The only sequence for the holy trinity I could remember was, “Big Daddy, J.C., and the Spook”. So that is what I said, and then the dream was over.

I’m just a regular Joe
With a regular Job
I’m your average white suburbanite slob
I like football and porno and books about war
I got an average house with a nice hardwood floor
My wife and my job my kids and my car
My feet on my table and a Cuban cigar

This year I’ve had way too much self-pity. It isn’t justified. I don’t think there’s anyone that wouldn’t have experienced loneliness after getting out of a long term relationship similar to mine. Even my toughest moments of this year weren’t that bad. Sadness tinged with sweetness.. like an Al Green album. My bottoms tend not to be that deep. I am an optimist at heart. Spacey. Happy. Thoughtful. Nervous.

If I step out of myself and look in, I would think, “He looks happy. He’s single, but seems to have a lot of fun dating.

My life is good. It’s always been good.

I’m so lazy. Wait. I didn’t have my coffee today. That makes sense. Ok. I’ll make some….

It’s after six now but fuck it. I need and want some.

It is good. My coffee is prime deliciousness. I store my beans in an airtight container, grind them fresh, use filtered water, and add just the right amount of sugar and cream. So yummy.

I do online dating. For some reason, I was contacted by many women this week. Usually I get one hit or so a week. I noticed Match.com changed the look of their website a while ago, and introduced some new features. And apparently, I am benefiting greatly from it, because I have 4 or 5 replies to send this week. But I haven’t done anything because, again, I’m so lazy.

All I feel like doing is having coffee/tea/wine and watching horror movies on my new sofa. Maybe that’s what I’ll change my profile to:

***** is a 29 year old male. He’s in shape. Pretty good looking.
He has a good job, makes a decent salary as a scientist, although he’s not very passionate about it.
He’s kind of spacey, meaning he likes his space, so don’t get too clingy. Except when he’s horny or wants to cuddle and watch a movie. Right now he’s on a horror genre kick. If you’re interested send him a wink. He probably won’t reply though because he’s lazy.

Howard Stern. I’ve been listening to pirated mp3’s of the show one day after they air. It’s enjoyable garbage that I shouldn’t stream into my head.

I should get to bed by 11. I’ve been drinking a bit tonight. I’m good at keeping certain aspects of my life together while others deteriorate.

Tonight I hit the gym and then the wine. Lab fucking meeting tomorrow morning. Damnit.

I miss having a girlfriend in my life. I don’t enjoy playing video games because it speeds the passage of time and already I’m too old and too single. I don’t want a kid, but I want to break out of my slothful routine. I need social pressure for this to occur.

I always want to write to people but I don’t anymore.

I don’t know what I want.

jkjlkj

End drunk post.

until i edit it later adding because i feel like crap after looking at heidi’s (gratefulimhere, originally cinnamongirl) page and old entries of mine. the email account where she messaged me before she killed herself died just like she did. and she was the one consoling me.. i shouldn’t drink and do this. i get pulled into a pit of introversion and self loathing. i wish i knew her better. i was still with ****** and didn’t have a cell phone back then. what is wrong with me . I’m restless and unhappy. Goodnight to me.

Living alone takes strength. It isn’t natural.

Today I came home after a long day at work. On days like these, when I get home, I feel not quite exhausted, but unmotivated and lazy. I tend to put on Canadian Indie music, and it melts away any shred of motivation that may have been left in my slumping body.

I think ****** was on the site today. Xanga shows that a Firefox browser from Massachusetts was here at 5:15pm and viewed a few different things. I get so few hits nowadays that it’s unlikely not to be her. I know we must think of each other often. It sucks to be single this time of year.

I had another date last night. She was of Venuezuelan/Mexican descent, was cute. I probably came off as formal and boring. The worst thing that I do is that I don’t make any moves. Boldness is a turn on for women. I don’t have enough of that. I’ve got plenty of spacey aloof-ness though.

Barack Obama won.

I read both of his books this year. Words to express my impression of him: Authentic. Thoughtful. Capable. Intelligent. Compassionate… and yes, Hopeful.

After he had spoken about five sentences of his acceptance speech, I began to feel my attitudes towards this county shift. It was physical and emotional. This was the moment I was cheated of 8 years ago.

He is limited by the political machinery that will grind around him, but it is reassuring to have someone I believe in at the controls.

My brain is fucked.

I accept this and have to deal with it. I have a terrible attention span and can’t think with any discipline anymore. The neurological pathways in my brain have developed scattershot. I know I’m not the only one. Probably most of my generation has this disease. These are the kids who hit their teens as the internet burgeoned. We didn’t have it as grade schoolers, it came in high school. This is terrible for us. We’re internet suave, but we weren’t indoctrinated when our brains were pliable enough to fully master thinking in a compatible way. We have half-internetted brains.

I’ll officially dub this syndrome, “Paritally Internetted Neurodegenerative Syndrome”. Or “PINS”. I have severe PINS. If you were born in 1979 you are in the high to extreme risk category for PINS. That means you were thirteen in 1992, and are 29 now. Risk decreases the further away from that age you get. The old generation has zero-internetted, and the new generation has fully-internetted brains. The old school technophobes and new school 2.0 kids are safe from PINS.

So I’m going to try and treat this as a disability. What is my therapy? Since I can’t focus for extended periods without a new thought pattern loading in my head like a new webpage, I’ll take a page out of the Guy Pierce movie, “Memento”. I will put positive symbolism up around my desk to prompt my brain into behaving. I can’t stop myself from having tangents, but maybe I can improve the quality and value of the tangents.

I’m half serious.

2025 me here: Remember Ask a Ninja?! The old link was broken, so I linked it to an active one on Youtube that made me chuckle.

In pajamas on Sunday morning. I have so much to do and feel so slothful. Wasting time with online video.

Sometimes something trivial and ridiculous, like an ask-a-ninja video, triggers existential angst. It was the anti-consumer message embedded in there that snapped me to attention.

http://www.askaninja.com/node/5520

Right now I feel that I should weigh 400 pounds instead having the normal and fit body that I have. I don’t know how to stop gliding through life.

On Halloween night I saw a movie called, “Happy-Go-Lucky”. It is the most Un-Halloween movie made in the history of man. A complete love letter to optimism. The theater was 1/4th full, and it was the late show. I wonder what the common psychological threads between the audience members were. Who goes to see the brightest, happiest movie ever on what is perceived as the darkest night of the year?

Anyway, there was a preview before that movie for a movie version of Richard Yates’, Revolutionary Road. This is a book I read half way through a year or two ago. Leo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet play the married couple. There was one line from the preview that pierced through my critical shell. “A man only gets a few chances in life. It won’t be long until he is sitting around, wondering how he got to be second rate.”

I feel myself falling into that and don’t know how to stop it.

http://www.slashfilm.com/2008/09/21/revolutionary-road-movie-trailer/