I need friends. I'm very tired of being stuck in the apartment. Truth is I'm more picky than I can afford to be. Friends seem to drift in and out of my life, but none have remained. Last night I went to that website, you know the one, the one I hate, to see who was online. Same old, same old. Nothing has changed in four months, though I wasn't surprised. I felt really embarassed to be there, because I feel so much better than 'those people'. It aches never to have anyone to do anything with. I just want to do something. This has essentiall been the story of my life. If only I weren't so painfully shy. If only I could let people in before the anxiety.

I also want to add that I'm being too long winded in second-rate poetic in my posts. I'm gonna try for short and sweet from now on. SUBSTANCE.

So I'm putting to rest another week of same old, same old. I got the most confusing package in the mail today about my application to Finger Lakes. I didn't understand a lick of it. It came with contradictory instruction and none of the forms I should have receive, but then again I'm probably reading it wrong. I tend to do that. Included in the stuff I have to fill out is an English proficiency form, which I have to get filled out by a certified speaker of english or some random thing like that. The form looks like something out of the 60s, clearly creaded on a typewriter and littered with sexist language. So I'm waiting for my academic councellor to get back to me on this one. God bless e-mails save me from having to engage in the dreaded human interaction.

It appears that for this application I have to write yet another biographical essay. I have no desire to do this. I never know what to write about myself, I can only imagine it would sounds something like this: I am 23 from a family of four. I drifted through highschool and university doing no more than the bare minimum to get by. My life is fill with projects and ideas I have started and never complete. I worked part-time my last year of highschool and worked summer jobs throughout university. I have yet to do volunteer my time, opting to sit on my ass and beat myself up over how I never do anything because I'm so shy and anxious all the time. It is for the above reasons that I would make a good Chiropractor. P.S. I used to collect PEZ dispensers.

Seriously though, I have a 1/4 finished friendship bracelet I was making for MYSELF the summer before I went to Western, that was 5 years ago. I have a story I started writing in grade six and another I began in graded 11 or 12, each no longer than a dozen or so pages. All these things could have been part of who I am, but I suppose I am unfinished. Uncompleted, undefined. I am un. I am something, but I am not anything. I know I am not that friendship bracelet, or those stories, or the sport and clubs I never joined. I am without a completion to any chapter in my life, no resolve and nothing gained.

Is the story of my life that I don't finish what I start? Is it that I lie about who I am? Is it that I ramble manically about whats wrong with me, knowing full well nothing needs to be fixed?

I want to be someone that finishes things.

So, I've noticed a trend in my blogs...I'ma whiney. That bugs me. I don't want to present myself that way. Lately I haven't felt very introspective, and whenever I get like that I feel so disjointed and disconnected from everything. I'm back to that drifting that I despise about myself. I've been hanging out with Jeff the past two days and it felt good. It felt good to get out. London is sucking me dry. I have no job, no studying, no money, and no friends.

I sucks to think that after all my friends moved to Toronto they've forgotten about me. Well they haven't forgotten about me, but I'm of no consequence to them. In my four years of univsity the friendships I developed were no deeper than the once I had in highschool. I'm still close with Beats, but her and I have something deeper. Afterall she was my first love. She was my bestfriend. She was my soulmate. I could read her mind, and she read mine. And though we've had our ups and downs, I know ultimately she will always hold a place in her heart for me as well. And Jeff, Jeff is my boy. My first TRUE friend. The first buddy who has ever been proud of me. I think back to days of residence. He was the first person I met at Western which kinda makes it's all the more symbolic. He's just a genuine guy, and I hate if I ever lost his friendship.

I've started talking to Cody again, and I'm pretty happy about that. He's another good guy, he's got his problems, no doubt, but once you see past that you can't help but want to hug the guy to death.

Anyway my original reason for posting was that because I'm so anxious all the time I rarely make new friends, it takes life changing experiences for me to branch out. So that's why I value these friendships that last. I have to. It feels so good that these people appreciate you even when they don't have to anymore. It's nice to know that people are thinking about me. My friend changed his MSN today becasue a commercial made him think of me. Nevermind that the commercial used the word 'girth' to the point that I was embarassed.

Okay enough for tonight.

I don't know if I can quiet wrap my head around what is going on overseas. This 'prisoner abuse scandal' and poor Nicholas Berg, seems too much for my heart and brand to process. Where does this all end? How much more will this escalate. I can't understand any reason for torturing POWs. Why can't the United States step up and quit looking for who's responsible. The simple fact of the matter is that US is no better than the next country. That high horse they've been riding on for decades should have been taken down by this. This should have been a humbling experience for everyone over here.

I think that there's a little bit in everyone that is capable of cruelty even it's unjust and lacks any coherent logic. I look at how people are scrambling all over the internet to find Nicholas Berg's decapatation. I can't understand it. I have no ounce of desire to know in my mind what a human decapatation looks like. I have no desire to see a man die. I have desire to know that evil.

What little of the video they show on CNN, still breaks my heart to know that we are witnessing this man's last moments in this life. I can't help but feel that horror that must have running through his mind. I'm crying as I type this and I think it's because I feel utterly helpless. I see those images as if it's real time and the events can still changed. But it's futile...what's done is done. And here I sit waiting to see the next atrocity mankind inflicts upon itself.

There seems no end to this storm, instead of learning from our mistakes we continue to make the same mistakes over and over each round getting more spectacular. It bothers me to no end that the prisoner abuse is mostly likely going to be swept under the rug of our consiousness because the beheading hits so much closer to home. And instead of the United States saying "we dropped the ball, sorry Nicholas, we failed you, we're sorry," we hear "We don't know who was resposible, we don't know if they were working without supervision, but we're determined to find out" knowing full well it will be nothing more than a Mexican Standoff of finger pointing.

Never have I know a more desperate time. 9/11 was terrible but at least we didn't see it coming. Right now with open eyes all see the road we're headed down and it's bleak. And I don't want to come to be told that it was all worth it because as far as humanity is concerned we've already lost.

It seems that we're all out to make a name for ourselves in the History Books, but history isn't a book. Thanks to the media and the current administration histors seems more of a reflection of those tashy movies we all watch on late night cable when we're all alone. But this is not history either. History isn't a plot designed to maximize enjoyment and replayability, it's our rule book, it's our strategy guide. It's proof that we've learned from our mistakes and know full well that we will that we won't needless die and suffer the way our ancestors did. The same ancestors who worked so hard to pave the path with their tired and beaten bodies so that we could live a good life.

The way we are living right now has made every life vain. What was the point in any of it? What is the point of any of this?

It's time to wake up and realize that life isn't a movie scrip, and that shocking twists don't make for better living. They say we are experiencing history. Well if this is history then I'm saddened to be a part of it.

"I hope you can forgive me for that time
when I put my hand between your legs
and said it was small, ‘cause it’s really not at all
I guess there’s just a part of me that likes to bring you down
just to keep you around, ‘cause the day
you that you realize how amazing you are
you’re gonna leave me"

So this just put into light for me what I've been doing to Steve for over two years. Unfortunately, in doing so I've lost respect for him, which sucks because he really is amazing, I just don't know if he's amazing for me.

I've been thinking lately that I need someone who is more masculine than I am. Because for some odd reason I give masculinity more respect than it deserves. But there's something about two big muscular arms wrapped around your body and a deep voice that is more comforting than anything I can think of. After confort and safety are the things I've convinced myself there are no guarantees for, and that's made me a really cynical nihlistic person. I mean I have this view that there are no truths, no assurances, just me and nothing else, and the lonely feeling that is associated with that leaves me rather skeptical about true love.

I find Steve to be cloying at times, mostly because I find his affection suspect because I really don't deserve it. I act in a manner that is disrespectful, and yet I'm still treated like a King, I have no reason to improve myself. SO maybe that's it, maybe I have nothing left to learn, or nothing left that I'm willing to learn in this relationship.

Maybe, what really attracts me about guys is those big arms, that security blanket that masculinity entails. Of course, I've know for a while that I'm attracted to masculinity and not necessarily men, I think it's the security I'm seeking. To know that someone can protect me, to know that I can start breathing again, relax my shoulders, and to know that when I fall back someone will have the strength to catch me and push me back up. And I need for that person to have the confidence to know that they can do that for me. There confidence cannot be dependent on my reassurance.

I suppose thats why I spend so much time under my blankets. It's safe there. And when I'm in Steve's arms I feel like I have to take care of him, breath held, shoulders tense, afraid to fall.

God it's Thursday and I still can't get over the Debbie Downer sketch from SNL this past week. This season of Saturday Night Live has been really surprising me. It's like a second wind of sorts. There have been so many moments this season that are quickly becoming some of my favourites, such as Justin Timberlake as Jessica Simpson, Oprah's Favourite Things: Birthday Edition y'all, the What Happens in Bangkok stays in Bangkok sketches, The Frondi on Gili sketch, the random stuff falling on Omarosa's head thing from Weekend update, and now in one episode they introduce two characters I hope will be around for a long long time. The first being Debbie Downer of course and the second being that hyperactive little girl having the sleepover. Still though the Debbie Downer sketch was hilarious. It was comic gold. The breaking just guaranteed it a spot on the top of my favourite sketches list. the premise was funny to being with, we all know someone who ruins a moment by refusing to have fun. And it was just so ridiculous. "It's official....I can't have children" Wah Waaaaaah. I can even appreciate the laughter because it was warented, but i don't appreciate when Fallon and Sanz do it because they have no respect for not breaking character, they go up there and do their own thing and could give two shits about the audience or the comedy. They're fucking tools. That being said, I really appreciated Horatio this week, probably because he actually got to prove himself without Jimmy Fallon ruinin all his moments. Here's to firing Jimmy Fallon.

Yo ho ho, I'm back neglected friend Blog. How've you been? Myself? Oh same as usual. I'm one step away from having applied to New York Chiropractic College. And I'm still jobless, and still I'm not looking. Summer is fast approaching the sun is really glorious. I can't wait to get outside. I can't wait to have a job. Tomorrow is the day that I start to look again. I've sat on my ass long enough.

Erin and Blair's wedding is fast approaching, two weeks. Bringing the number of my friends who are married up to 4. I can't stand that thought. I'm 23 and I can't even decide if I want to spend the rest of my life with a man or a woman let alone know who that person is. I think about it and 23 IS old, yet I'm still that kid from highschool. I don't feel adult. Lately I've been noticing when I look in the mirror that I'm looking my age. I see a man in my reflection but when I look into my eyes I still see that child that I feel inside. I can't process what my reflection tells me...I look grown up, for all intents and purposes I AM grown up, but why don't I feel grown up?

It's funny when we look back on our lives, how me at 20 and me at 15 and me 10, and me at 5, we're all different people. We look different, we have different opinions and views, different schemas for looking at the world, hell we're even made up of entirely different cells. Yet still there is this continuity throught out a lifespan that links seemingly unrelated selfs into this one collective Identity. Me...at 23. I can't escape all those people that I was, no matter how hard I try to pretend, or rewrite the past, it's hard to make peace with that and to realize that I am, in fact, Me at 23. A man.

What fun.