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I am so aggrivated right now.
I want to help so many people.
To tell them things that could change their lives.
I know what to say,�I know how to say it.
But where do I begin?
Who will understand?
Who will�take it the�right way?



�I wish they could understand.



If only people truely knew how much�care I unintentionally�have for them.
Itapos;s just in my nature. I canapos;t control it.
I donapos;t want to control it.


Donapos;t they see the love?
I see it.
Itapos;s everywhere.

The anticipation is killing me.
When will the day finally come?
Of eternal happiness, and joy.
When will I see him, face to face?
When will I speak his name.
My favorite name
I am ready.
When will you be ready?


I have so much on my mind right now, I canapos;t even begin to type it all.
Basically what this means is that Jesus loves you, and his love is all around you.
People just have a hard time seeing and believing it.
With all the presure,hate and negativity everywhere you turn.


I want to go so much deeper.
There is so much more.


Okay, thatapos;s all.



This was inspired by watching Mtv for about five minutes.
Itapos;s amazing at what this world has come to.



Jesus loves you.
- Cami.
�

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There were enough signs that Melissa was crazy to keep two engravers, four painters and a troupe of municipal workers in business for the rest of their unnatural lives. First off there was the dog, there were the midnight men, there was the dog, there were the letters addressed to various friends (who I never met) and family members filled with phrases like "youapos;re not being conducive to my needs as a human person" and "I think Iapos;m going to need some space from your negative energy for a while", and, of course, the dog.

I first witnessed one of her nuclear meltdowns in June. I am the sort of person who is pretty well known for being a good listener and problem solver (so long as the problems arenapos;t my own) but when someone tells me they donapos;t want to talk about something, thatapos;s the end of the discussion. Iapos;m not going to expend effort to hear about someoneapos;s problems, unless thereapos;s love, money, or fucking involved. I never did find out what Melissaapos;s meltdown was in response to.

She started leaving me nasty notes. Iapos;m someone who uses a fair amount of notepaper and writing journals but absolutely deplores the Post-It Note industry. Every Post-It Note Iapos;ve ever seen involves passive aggressive or just downright aggressive language. When I lived in Burlington, my landlord used to leave me love notes such as "Whereapos;s the fucking rent?" and "I hate you. Get out of my house." To be fair to him, I was avoiding him because I couldnapos;t afford rent. I understood his frustrations.

Melissaapos;s frustrations were wacky. "I found this pen in the living room. BE MORE CAREFUL" It was a covered ball-point pen, left in a room that Gussy was forbidden to go into. Another note declared "Gussy did her business in my bedroom while I was gone. In the future PLEASE CLEAN UP when Iapos;m not home." Uhhh...since when is it my business to go into someone elseapos;s room and check to see whether or not their spoiled rotten guinea pig impersonator shat on their floor?

In mid-July she announced that she was leaving for Florida for a while. This made me very happy. When she returned home, there were Midnight Men coming at all hours of the day. Fortunately, I was rarely home at all hours of the day. The one great thing about us being roommates was that (after we both quit Crapplebees) she worked days, and I worked nights. We rarely ever saw each other or had to have conversations. Which was good, as I rarely had anything nice to say to her.
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Well the step-kids are in school now, bring on the Homework tantrums.....*SIGH*. I swear, I donapos;t know if I can deal with another year of certain kids refusing to try in the learning process and then having a fit when I refuse to 1)accept it 2)give them the answers. Iapos;ve already gotten the "itapos;s no fun here" and "mom says it must suck to live here" and many other apos;life is golden with our negligent motherapos; comments. Like anything would be any different with their new apos;Iapos;ll�push a 2 year old down a flight of stairs to teach him to stay away from the stairsapos; step-father.

�

�It sucks being the set of parents that have to make them behave and be responsible, when they can spend the summer having all the fun they want, whenever they want. Well, duh I mean jeez-us would it kill her to help us out. God forbid the woman enforce any human-like behavior in her children for once in her life. It also really infuriates me when the kids finally fess up and tell us that apos;step-jerkapos; has many of the same rules as we do.....but life is so horrible with us.

�

�It must be nice being the apos;funapos; parents.

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Well I havenapos;t gotten rockbox to work with my sansa e280. I assume that itapos;s probably because my mp3 player is version 3, and rockbox is currently only compatible with v1. Atleast I found a way for winamp and it to work together. Turning its USB mode to MSC over MTP. Iapos;d explain the difference, but Iapos;m not a freaken geninius.

Speaking of genius. Tony Stark. I just watched Iron Man, and Iapos;m pretty baffled about some aspects of the movie. Like how Mr. Stark has invented almost everything, but not a car that drives on its own. I caught a glimpse of what I want in a garage: a pc that has six monitors and an insane amount of power tools. For no reason at all, I just want it.

At 09 45 hours today, I proceeded with community service. Because I adore children (not a complete lie), and they are the future. Maybe Iapos;m an egoist or something, but having them flock around me asking me questions while I amaze them with pseudo magic tricks; felt great. I felt... I wouldnapos;t say happy, more of border-line not-sad. Giving the less privileged at least a little taste of joy, laughter, and monggo beans; really does feel good. (Pictures posted on friendster). For a second I almost felt like a father to these children. I definitely want to do this again.

George Carlin. Not only is this man hilarious, heapos;s also a philosopher. I am never going to think about global warming ever again. Watching/Listening to a few of this manapos;s acts on youtube are enlightening. I feel really holy already. But he died this June 22. I had so many questions to ask this great man.

Speaking of deaths. An HF member died, gave me a slight melancholic state. But lolo marioapos;s death even hammered down the nail of unjollitude. I shared many great stories and laughter with this man, and Iapos;ll miss him.

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never have i felt like this.� he hasnapos;t given me more than a hug...� i really like this man.� he has experienced what i experienced in his ex.� he knows that we would be each othersapos; rebounds.� suggests we continue getting to know each other.� at first i felt rejected.� but i trust that he isnapos;t ready and has commitment issues.� he says he wouldnapos;t want short term with me.� we are communicating more.� i can tell that itapos;s not game.� i still have healing to do.� they say that hurt people hurt people.� iapos;ve been there.� i donapos;t want to do that to this one.� my ex had told me that he wasnapos;t ready at a point.� i persisted.� look what happened.� lol.� iapos;ve learned that if it is to be, it will.� but it will not if i force it.� he already has my respect.� and the more i talk to him, the more iapos;m smitten.� i love that word.� lol.

i just came back from the Eric Benet Dwele concert...� i love my life.� iapos;ve been off for the past few days.� going back to work tomorrow, i think.� growing closer to my daughter.� she has become quite the lady.� iapos;m so proud of her.� i know she is going to do better in her new school.� finally had a chance to clean my place... Thinking about getting maid service, but in this economy, i should clean this place myself and save instead.� make the time to do it.� the world will never be the same.� and that may be a good thing.� too much credit creates greed and consumption.� now itapos;s time to face the music.� i wonder what rock bottom is going to look like.� iapos;m not afraid.� iapos;ve been through so much, there is nothing that i canapos;t face and conquer.� iapos;m convinced.� i believe in me.

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Alya shoved $150 in his pocket before she left Wyoming - donapos;t worry, you can owe me - and he thinks vaguely that that should probably be worrisome in and of itself, but itapos;s not, really. If he could read her at all, heapos;d know one way or the other (and why), but he canapos;t and heapos;s too tired to care about that.

He puts the pinpoint he did manage to collect before he ambled into Stigmata down on the nightstand in his hotel room, contemplates the likelihood of staying awake long enough to take a shower and ultimately decides not to chance it. Itapos;d be a godawful undignified way to meet his second end.

Seven years.

He doesnapos;t know if thatapos;s how long has passed in his own world; he doesnapos;t know if Rose Red is still standing at all, not with Steve so determined to see it torn down. (Rightly so.) He doesnapos;t know a lot about what happened after he slammed the door shut again behind Cathy - blurred and muddled memory, half-remembered nightmares.

He doesnapos;t think heapos;s going to rest easy.

(Tomorrow he will discover a phone number and name on one of the twenties, and he just doesnapos;t have enough feasible options to take his time about making a decision there. Illegal immigrant indeed.)

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And Coleridge today...made me laugh. Likening God to the ultimate poet. Raising what some consider to be nothing but aesthetic charlatans to the status of deity...the ultimate synthesis of creative force and reason

And I struggle to grapple with one instance of beauty.

(Itapos;s rubbish but claims no more...reading too much stuff on 18th and 19th century to be terribly electric)

Go ahead and call me a dogged aesthetic.
Standing from this angle it might as well be the case.
All I see is the sharpness of a glisten,
The pang of human eyes.
I comprehend no more and am cut to the quick.
Praying to the deity under my breath--
A prayer to continue preserved in an unreal instant,
A memory of dazzling sensation.

And for all my piety I cannot recreate one moment,
one fraction of that beauty.
Reason degrades to a song repeating over
and over again in my ear.

I have stepped up to the altar and revealed my nakedness,
With the knowledge that I cannot utter a single syllable
To express the glory of one mite of creation.

I cannot name a single word in your face.
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Jetlag really is biting. Yes, I know itapos;s late now, but I needed to flop after work and am now catching up on things. And am about to go to sleep, so there.

Work is being hectic. Absence of more than one coworker, due to personal/family reasons or illness, results in increased workload, and while of course we are sympathetic, it is a bit busy.

How fast the holiday flees away.

And I think I may be developing a cold. Feh.

---

The Villain

While joy gave clouds the light of stars,
That beamed wherapos;er they looked;
And calves and lambs had tottering knees,
Excited, while they sucked;
While every bird enjoyed his song,
Without one thought of harm or wrong--
I turned my head and saw the wind,
Not far from where I stood,
Dragging the corn by her golden hair,
Into a dark and lonely wood.

-- W.H. Davies
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