Like I said earlier, most of this year was spent in a weird emotional haze, and it took a huge toll on both my social life and my professional life (ultimately resulting in me losing my job of nearly four years). This haze continued well into my unemployed period, or as I like to refer to it, my "blue period." Overall, the blue period was pretty awesome. Finding myself with zero responsibilitites, I quickly delved into a world of schedule-less decadence. Staying up all night playing video games, sleeping in all day, playing more video games, smoking a bunch of pot that I bought off this awesome fat Puerto Rican dude that I always see at the little bodega I sometimes buy groceries at. I know I should have spent that time absorbed in self-reflection and trying to get my resume and portfolio together so I could get a new job. I mean, that's what all my family and friends told me to do. But I bought a bunch of playstation games and a couple bottles of really good tequila instead. Sometimes I wonder if it's even possible to "find myself," because I'm not even so sure that there's anything to find.

The blue period turned sour fairly quickly. I lost track of time, and day and night slipped into each other without me noticing. I slept as I pleased, and barely ever left the house. I ordered pizza probably every other day, and I managed to gain almost ten pounds in a month. I became utterly disgusting. Any physical progress I had made at the gym this year disappeared pretty quickly. I also began to hate myself a lot. I'd look at myself in the mirror while drunk on tequila and tell my reflection how hideous and useless he was. Then I'd start laughing, and roll a joint or something. The haze continued, as did my depression. I didn't answer my phone (ironic because I had just purchased the best phone my wireless provider offered: the new Motorola E815 with Jabra BT250 bluetooth wireless headset), or check my email, or anything. I think paying my rent, ordering pizza online, and occasionally going to Blockbuster Video if I couldn't wait for my Netflix movies to arrive were my only interactions with other people during that month. I found myself looking at a lot of internet pornography. I noticed that I had the "Speed Channel" playing on my television during a lot of the time too. At times I'd find myself masturbating to the Speed Channel and not even realizing what I was doing. It all became pornography to me. Speed Channel, the Food Network, G4tv, etc. I was more of a mindless, emotionless monster than ever. The only things I felt were hunger, my natural gross human sex drive, and the desire to race cars and shoot people on a video game console.

How did I snap out of it, you ask? I think it was a combination of things. First of all, I came to the realization that my savings account was dwindling rapidly and wouldn't be able to support me at my current disgusting pace for more than another two weeks. Secondly, I thought of a whole bunch of stuff that I really wanted to buy, and to do that, I would need a job. Thirdly, dfjlal;ksdhtal;hdkf;ha dl;khtealkhe hfdnadgj;yepauh3nadn adgashdfasddaken

I assume you want something meaty by now. Huh? Do you?

There are some things I need to go over. These things being:

a) why I was fired
b) what happened after said firing
c) what i'm doing now
d) and finally what happened to that amazing girl I was dating briefly (the one that almost made me feel alive again)

I'm going to try to get this started now.

Towards the end of my time at "Company X," I became very uninterested with my job, and wasn't putting any effort into whatever it was I should've been doing. I spent my last month there slacking off as much as possible. People were always waiting for me to finish things...I had trouble meeting deadlines...I couldn't pay attention in meetings. All I did all day was browse myspace, buy things on ebay, and play games. Oh, and slowly walk around the office for like the first forty five minutes each morning, shooting the shit with a bunch of people I can't stand, before I even pretended to do any work at my desk. There were a few things that I got caught doing that I really think pushed things over the edge. For instance, printing out tons of gross, ridiculous pictures out on the company color laserjet printer. I'm talking at least five pages a day. Just of stupid stuff. Once I printed out like fifteen copies of a picture of the guy from the show "Airwolf" and left it on all these peoples' keyboards. I can't even remember why I did this. Looking back, I can barely remember anything about the nearly four years I spent at this company. I have almost nothing to show for it. But I think what really sealed my fate at the company was the day where we had a bunch of important clients visiting one afternoon(one of which was African American) and I was at my desk (which is pretty close to the lobby, where they were all waiting), playing with my little "Homies" toys that I had lined up on my computer monitor. I was making a lot of noise and crashing them into each other and saying stuff like "I'ma fuck you up like in a car crash, son! ::BANG! BANG!:: Ow! You shot me nigga! - Oh shit! Check Yo self! Check Yo self! - Leeroy! Break out ya box cutta! Slice off his nosey, G! - Yeeeah! What! What!! BLAUW!! BLAUW!!!! What's up NOW? - Oh mah Godddd! He cut he nose off!"

I think I had reverted to some kind of horrible child-like state for a moment, yelling these things out in a completely inappropriate location (the irony is, I was still supposed to be putting the finishing touches on the presentation for these clients, but I had spent all day chatting with people online, walking to Dunkin Donuts to get coffee (twice), and playing with my Homies toys), especially in front of important clients. Well. I snapped out of it when a project manager came over to me and whispered (really loudly and angrily) "STOP it B! What the FUCK is wrong with you? We have CLIENTS here!" And I just stared at her, straight-faced, dropped the toys in my hand loudly on my desk, and said slowly "It takes a company of hundreds to hold me back! AWWW SHIT!" And I got up and took a third trip to Dunkin Donuts that afternoon. When I got back, I obviously was in big big trouble, and was told by my boss that I was to leave immediately and not come back. I had nothing to say in my defense. My man told me that he "knew I was troubled and was struggling with a lot of personal issues this summer," but that there was no way he could keep me employed with my escalating weirdo behavior. There was no denying this, and I'm pretty sure I've been subconciously sabotaging myself at my job (and just about every other aspect of my life as well) for the better part of the year. Anyway, they gave me a decent package (completely suprising and awesome) and sent me on my way. Not too many people wrote me to say goodbye. I think most people were scared of me by the time I left. Or just found me to be completely revolting as a human being. There's always that.

Anyway, that's how I got fired. I'll be back soon.

A few admissions:

1) I never got a pet cat. There is no "shakie wilcox" and I'm not quite sure why I made all that up. I do wish I had something to love though, be it kitty or person.

2) I am still a complete monster, without remorse or purpose.

3) I am unemployed and have never felt freer. I spent all day today playing playstation in my underpants and eating Lucky Charms. On Friday I spent the day at the beach with a cooler full of pre-made margaritas in empty Poland Spring water bottles. I know that this wonderful feeling is a high that cannot sustain itself for long, but somehow the anxiety of being jobless hasn't kicked in yet. I'll worry about all that later. Right now my plans involve ordering pizza and renting a bunch of Tom Cruise movies. I love that guy.

4) Tomorrow is my 25th birthday and I feel more childlike than ever.

I'll tell you how it all went down another time. Oh, also I'll finally tell you how I blew my chance at true love and destined myself to be emotionally desolate for the rest of my life.

I got fired today.

Last week, I went to go see the new Star Wars movie with a couple of buddies. I wouldn't agree to seeing it in anything less than full digital projection. Seeing this movie was one of the only things I've looked forward to in the past few months. It was ultimately fulfilling, but predictably disappointing at the same time. Nothing's ever as good as I hope it's going to be.

When the movie was about the start, and we were greeted by the THX intro with the insane crescendo of weird fake-orchestral noise, something moved inside of me. Emotionally. I felt something rise up, and my eyes started to water. And I didn't understand it. I haven't felt anything in the past month. And all it took was the stupid intro sequence for a movie theater's sound system to finally make me feel something? I obsessed over this for the first half hour of the movie, wondering if I was somehow moved by this epic noise itself, or by the fact that it was completely synthetic and created by human beings. Like some surreal aural monument to humanity's genius. In any case, I tried to stop obsessing about it and focus on the shitty dialogue and acting in star wars, but I just couldn't shake the feeling I had inside me. I wanted to cry. I looked around and watched all these gross beasts surrounding me, stuffing their faces with raisinets, icees, and nacho chips covered in plastic-like cheese. This vision quickly sobered me up, and I got back into the movie, trying to escape and regain that feeling I had as a child when I'd watch my favorite movies or play with my favorite action figures. By the end of the night I was back to my regular numb self, and slept a good night's sleep, my dreams filled with wookies and hero-destroying romances.

Next time, I'll tell you a better story. I promise.

serotonin bleeding internal band-aid fix never understood sparkling dead inside fixed bag of new blood new feelings fixed head better smile new person better man more bandages dirty water dark black feelings romance talk vitamins exercise health diet carrot protein cannot undo fix regret tears funny vomit escape booze never again fix unreal good dreams not letting go better lover fulfill personality scraped knee more accidents rebirth coccoon blooming new leaves new smell rotting roots dead pet new soil insects not escapable whole new man razor slowly idiot again abort escape regret decision needing comfort possessions no people work job responsibility empty produce nothing exist consume buy retreat hide isolate

I know I said that everything was better, and that everything was funny again (oh, it is), but I still feel unfulfilled in so many aspects of my life. Particularly the working aspect. I mean, I have a good job, and I'm comfortable. But I just...feel nothing while I'm at work. No motivation, no sense that I'm really going anywhere or producing anything of value. I don't work very hard, and I'm still rewarded well and overly-appreciated. I don't get it. Sometimes I try to do a bad job on purpose, and my manager is like "great work, B! go with it!" and I'm thinking to myself, "ZUH? I spent way more time chatting with my friends on instant messenger than working on this pile of shit, and they still like it?" I guess I'll never understand our industry. And our clients are miserable bastards. Indecisive automatons that drive luxury SUVs, porsches, and eat lots of red meat. The male ones anyway, I think. The female ones, I despise even more. It's so hard to make them understand anything. They're almost as stupid as the sorority girls who's houses I used to vandalize all the time in college. I just...I can't explain why I feel this way. I almost think I'm supposed to, if television and movies have taught me anything. So if this is how it's gotta be, then I'ma do this up right.

I could feel myself slipping away again in the early winter. Deep depression and a total lack of interest in any of the work I was doing took a hold of me. It started around the time we were handed out pieces of paper with our secret santa gift recipients written on them. The receptionist held out a coffee can with a bunch of pieces of paper in it, and I immediately groaned loudly when I saw who I had picked. "Gawwwwwd" I said, "I mean. No. Fuck. Okay thanks!" Then she scurried away to deliver the next horrible suprise unto an unexpecting employee. Secret santa. I didn't want to deal with this at all. I walked over to the desk of the woman who's name I had picked. "I got you for secret santa. What do you want?" This was the beginning of it all.

Lately I've been fantasizing a lot during work...almost losing myself in my fantasies. Sometimes when I interact with people I forget that these were just fantasies, and I have to correct my behavior. Or were they fantasies? My psychiatrist had me on a number of anti-depressants during the winter. It's all kind of murky, looking back on it. I may or may not have yanked off the hood ornament from a Mercedes S500 that was in the parking garage, and worn the ornament around my neck for the rest of the day. I may or may not told one of the account manager girls that if they didn't get me the documentation I needed for our afternoon status meeting I was going to "get miss piggy on them," and then stamp my feet and scream "KERRRMYYYYY" in a high-pitched shriek. I may or may not have snapped at one of the project managers who was asking me about deliverables. "What? Get your fat ass out of my cubbie-cube! Can't you see I'm trying to play tetris here?" I haven't been fired yet, and I haven't had a 'talking to' in a while either. So maybe none of those things ever happened. I'm just going to keep rolling, and reap the benefits of a world that doesn't pay attention.

PART TWO:

i can't really explain it to you that well.

and i remembered earlier in the day when i was stuck in traffic on the highway and i looked around and felt trapped, surrounded by massive vehicles...yellow ribbons, american flags, bumper stickers reducing my country's ideals into a marketable slogan...the flag i saluted as a child...becoming a brand icon (which made me think of rubbing bbq sauce from my face all over napkins printed with american flags at last year's company picnic and laughing loudly about it). and i thought to myself "wait, i still live in the best country in the world, right?" but if that's true, and i do, why is everyone around me so completely fucked up? so completely sad and empty? i feel nothing these days. all my friends from college...they email me and tell me what they're doing and what they're buying and who they're listening to and what they're seeing...but occasionally i get a window into what really goes on inside them, and it's fucking scary. they don't know what they want. they hate their jobs. they're lonely. they grow bored of the stuff they buy. the novelty wears off so quickly to them. we - ugh..i can't even write this without distracting myself with a bunch of stupid internet bullshit every two seconds... i wish i still had an attention span - we are obsessed with these commodities...and we have to adorn ourselves with them. cover up the ugly skeletons inside. and those...the ones that have all the things they need and don't go hungry but are still sad and don't want to get out of bed in the morning...i am still one of these people.

i woke up and i hated what i saw in myself. i know i've been gone a long time. to everyone. i promise i'll tell you everything. i know i've said it before. but i'm a different person now, i swear. i think. people can change. my heart got broken, i got sick, i tried to get myself fired, then i returned to the gym and started exercising again - tried to do something positive for myself. i feel so much better, and everything's funny again. EVERYTHING is. i'll tell you so much more...

PART ONE:

i finally awoke, as i looked at myself in the mirror, crying pathetically. i stared into my own eyes, tears running into my mouth. i could taste salt and vomit. i could taste remnants of an overpriced meal at a subpar restaurant, packed with well-dressed hideous people. as i looked at myself in the mirror i realized i wasn't as ugly as i'd always believed. and i wasn't as vacuous as i had feared. i saw something in my own eyes. i'm a real person. there is something there after all. and i don't think it's ugly, like i'd been told so many times before. i never told you all about my old relationship. with the girl who i took for granted. the girl who tried her best to see something good in me, even though there was only shit inside. when she talked about politics and world affairs, i'd just nod and think about sports cars and HDTVs. i always thought love was just something in movies and in books...a romanticized idea created by french poets a few centuries ago. or something. when i looked into my own eyes and actually saw love for myself, i understood her love for me. maybe that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. i've never thought about it that much. i just thought love and relationships were something that you had to do...something that was socially acceptable and all my friends were doing. so i did it. i went through the motions but rarely did i feel ANYTHING, through no fault of her's. i just accepted the fact that i was a cold monster and feeling nothing is how we live now. all we can feel is cheap, superficial pleasure. orgasm, good food, alcohol, cigarette, drugs, sitcom laughter. not genuine, deep contentment. i don't think i'll ever feel it again (i know i felt it as a child). but at least i had a moment of clarity...i could see inside myself for once. there is something there.

and i understood why i'll be alone forever.

I've fallen into the deepest depression I can remember in the past ten years. I tried to do something positive and go back to the gym to pull myself out of this horrible slump. I've been there every night this week. I hate how the guys that work there pretend to be my friend. I told a guy I work with about the gym I go to, and he seemed interested, so I brought him the other night, after work. The kid that signed me up and showed me the place when I first joined was there, and he says to the guy I brought in: "Yo man...you want a membership? I'll hook you up. Yeah, I hooked up your man B over here!" and I just stared at him, and said as deadpan as I could, "Yeah man...you totally 'hooked me up'...by giving me the exact same rate and privileges any other fat fuck who walks through that door gets. Thanks bro!" He just tried to smile back at me, slightly confused and definately trying to hide his irritation. The good thing is, he hasn't said a word to me the past two nights I've gone. Lately my ultimate fantasy has been to just die instantly on the treadmill (my heart always palpitates and I feel like I'm about to die about 20% of the day), and make everyone at the health club deal with my death and be forever haunted by it.

You support the troops, but you drive like a complete asshole.

Okay. I've been away for a while. I think I may have found God. I don't know. Also, work/sickness/depression/a feeling of complete loss and hopelessness have consumed me lately. A lot's happened. I promise to write about it all in the coming months. I just can't think straight right now. People ask me what's wrong at work (They should damn well know; they keep piling on more ridiculous amounts of work for me to do. I'm getting paranoid. I think this is all some kind of conspiracy to get me to snap so they can fire me.), and all I can respond with is "Shit's mad heated, son." And that seems to sum it up. I'll be back.

I emerged from my flu-encrusted hibernation this morning to discover that George W. Bush will remain our president for the next four years. Way to go America. I knew you wouldn't let me down.

I started talking to some of my friends on Instant Messenger to see what their feelings were. Many of them are outraged. They blamed people like me for not voting. I don't care about all that. I just want to maintain my selfish, wonderful lifestyle.

I went out for drinks last night with some coworkers. Typically, I drank way too much. We were in this really intense debate about consumer electronics, and Blu-Ray technology versus HD-DVD, and I started feeling really panicky, and just starting ranting, barely taking time to breathe in between sentences...I don't know what came over me, but I just starting rambling uncontrollably...It went a little something like this:

"Ughhh...Listen to all this...this doesn't improve our lives at all, does it? Or does it? Where does it all go when we're done with it? How much is left? Do we need any more? I want...another megapixel, another gigahertz, more anytime minutes... I look at all of you and some of you are actually doing things and going places and fixing things and helping people...where am I? I am the worst kind of human being, the absolute most useless thing to our race. I have nothing to offer. A few jokes maybe...a couple of new ideas...no, mostly just rehashed and not as good as the originals. God, I really have nothing to offer society...nothing. My existence is a joke. Simply here to collect disposable income and spend it on things that destroy me. I woke up and looked around my bed this morning...a trashcan full of used kleenex and chocolate bar wrappers, a kitchen full of empty fast-food containers and soda cans, men's magazines all over the floor of my bathroom...went to my living room and it was just full of shit, complete shit. Horrible movies on DVD, men's/consumer magazines, a fishtank I was too lazy to set up, a half-assembled stereo system, video game consoles strewn about the floor... All relics of my godless, hedonistic lifestyle. I'm disgusting. I could disappear tomorrow and it wouldn't affect anything. Someone else could do what I do, and probably be better at it. And maybe actually invest their money and use it to benefit mankind, instead of just spending it on themselves. I'm so worthless.......uh.............PSYCHE!!!"

Then I high-fived one of my coworkers (I don't remember which one), the conversation picked up right where it left off before I started babbling, and we spent like 200 dollars on more beer and food.

Hmm. Where do I begin? A lot's happened in the past few weeks. Professionally, romantically, emotionally. It always happens all together like that. I still haven't been back to the gym. Haven't had time. Been really busy with work, and buying DVDs...and a date. A really special one, I think. With the girl from the party. I emailed her last week (I'm not sure why I waited so long), and she took some time to get back to me. I was getting nervous. Maybe I took too long to write her? Maybe she was toying with me? Maybe she thought I was stupid and ugly and didn't want to ever see me again? Maybe she didn't give me her real email address and she was never interested in me to begin with? Maybe she was as shitty as I originally thought she was when we first interacted? All of these thoughts upset me and I began to hate her again. Suddenly, she emailed me four days later, and by the time I finished reading her message, I was captivated again. She wanted to meet. She included her phone number in the email. For some reason, my stomach began to hurt at the sight of her digits. I got really nervous, and decided that deleting the email and never talking to her again might be a good idea, but then I realized that I had to seize this opportunity while I had the chance. I queued up "Like a Prayer" by Madonna (one of my favorite guilty pleasures) on my stereo and turned up the volume. Inspired by the music, I started doing pushups. 25, 50, as many as I could do. After 4 sets of 25, I stood up, a trembling mess, sweaty and red faced, and ran into my bathroom, peeling my shirt off. I flexed my swollen muscles in the mirror, cooing to my self, "Yeah....yeah. You like that?" After I felt sexy and confident enough, I turned the music off, took a few deep breaths, and called the number she gave me. It went straight to her voicemail message. He message was short, cute, and to the point. "Hi. Not here, leave a message. Bye." I liked that. The phone beeped at me. "Uh...hey. HEY. This is...the guy you met at Marty's party a few weeks ago. The guy that you emailed. Today. Hey. So uh, I was thinking we could maybe hang out? This weekend? Soon? I'd like to take you to this gourmet Chinese place downtown...if..that's alright." I continued to babble for maybe ten seconds more, before finally giving her my phone number to call me back. Then I drank beer and played xbox for the rest of the night, hating myself for sounding so idiotic on her voicemail.

Well, she ended up calling me back, late that night, after I had almost gone crazy convincing myself that I'm worthless and that she'd never call back. She told me she'd love to let me take her out to dinner, and we made plans for Friday night. I spent the rest of the week in a nervous/excited daze. But I couldn't help thinking this was some cruel joke and that she wasn't going to be at the restaurant. I have to start taking these chances, I told myself. I need a mate...a lover...a sidekick. Or at the very least, someone who'll make me feel good about myself. So the night finally came, and when I showed up at the restaurant, there she was, looking stunning. The date went wonderfully. We talked about all kinds of things (she was actually interesting), and I was able to get her to crack up a few times. Making her laugh made me feel so amazing. For instance, when we were ordering our meals, I insisted that I make some recommendations to her. "No no, I insist. Put the menu down. I've been here a bunch of times. I'll read you some of the specialties," I told her. She seemed hesitant, until she saw what I was up to. I lowered my voice and began to speak in a Chinese accent, pretending to read from the menu. "Ah, tonight's ah special, we have ah braised ree-tah-ded duck een a special peeglet sauce." She looked at me with her mouth agape, then looked around to make sure no one could hear us, and started giggling quietly. I smiled at her. "Ah, Szechuan baaayby cheecken! Most suffering baby chicken! Extreme pain and unpleasantness brings out special dericate frava in baby chicken!' A waiter walked by with food for another table, so I cleared my throat and started speaking normally. "Ahem, I think we should get some of the homemade dumplings. They're really good here." When the waiter was far enough away, I resumed my game. "Ah yessss. You get ah thees! Dericate pigret, in special pigret sauce! Little pig taken away from his mother at very young age, very heartbroken! Die most excruciating death, taste so dericious!" At this point my date was actually clapping her hands with delight, slightly bouncing up and down as she laughed. I was melting inside. I then handed her a menu and we both ordered some delicious meals. We also got funny drinks. She ordered a zombie (which got her pretty buzzed) and I did my best to order a suffering bastard with a straight face (except with the waiter repeated my order - ah, suffering bahstahd) it was all I could do to not burst out laughing. She was kicking me in the shins while I ordered to keep me in line. There was rarely a break in the conversation during the meal, except to put food in our mouths. We went our seperate ways after dinner, and I felt the happiest I've felt since I keyed some asshole's Range Rover that double-parked in the parking garage at work last month. But even happier. I have a feeling that things are going to be okay for me...

had a nightmare last night:

...brief glimpses of a world where celebrities (mostly athletes) get corporate tattoos on their bodies as the final step in ultimate corporate sponsorship. andre agassi took that last pathetic step and had a large nike swoosh tattooed on his bicep. celebrities are also sponsored in name as well. for instance Vin Diesel is no longer Vin Diesel, but 'Pepsi presents Vin Diesel.' coming soon to the AOL Time Warner Nestle Multiplex near you: Apple Computers Motion Pictures presents Star Wars 9, Starring Pepsi presents Vin Diesel, brought to you by Burger King, in association with ExxonMobil's entertainment subsidiary.

that's all I can remember. so much more has happened. been so busy lately. stressed out and eating a lot of junk food. it was really cold last night. i had some thai food and i think they put a lot of MSG in it, and that gives me weird dreams. not always about andre agassi.

Dear robo-diary,

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. The last couple of weeks have been super hectic at work, as projects have been rolling in and I've been trying to redeem myself, socially and professionally. Plus I took a little trip down to DC this weekend to visit an old friend. It gave my patriotism a sorely-needed boost. A metro bus driver gave me several compliments on my diesel digital wristwatch, which made my day. I pride myself in how cool my accessories are. Hats, watches, sunglasses, shoes, messenger bags, etc. We also went to Virginia for a day to see some sites. It was enlightening, as I'd never been there. An interesting observation: I saw a beat up old pickup truck on the highway with two bumper stickers on it. One said "VOTE FREEDOM FIRST" and had an American flag and eagle on it, and the sticker next to it had a big confederate flag on it. I think in this upcoming election, i'm going to vote freedom last, if possible.

Anyway, when we last left our hero, he had just started going to the gym (he hasn't been back yet) and was looking forward to a big party that upcoming weekend. So I went to this party, and had a really good time. I got really drunk and got to talk to a lot of kids I went to school in. A lot of them are in positions similar to mine, so we talked a lot about work, the industry, politics, everything. A lot of them didn't seem all that happy either. Like they weren't really satisfied with their lives. Which is weird, because a few of them had really nice cars. So I was getting increasingly blotto as the night went on, and I started pretty early, so people continued to show up to the party even after I'd hit a pretty good drunk-level. At one point, the doorbell rang, and no one did anything about it, so I took it upon myself to go open the door and greet our new guest. I could see through the screen door that it was a girl, so I composed myself as best I could and went down to the front door, slowly opening it with a big, sincere smile on my face. The girl standing there was really cute. Hip clothes, short hair, and a 6-pack of Bass in one hand, Amstel Light in the other. I liked what I saw. "Hi!" I said enthusiastically, as I held the door open for her. She looked at me for a moment, then rolled her eyes to one side of her head and said "Okayyyy..." and walked inside the house, not saying anything else. I stood there for a moment, still holding the door open, stunned. What the fuck? I couldn't believe how rude she was. I went back upstairs and quietly complained to a bunch of people about this girl's snotty entrance. "Who is that girl?" I asked a few of my female classmates (I can't believe how distant college seems to me now), while swilling more beer and shoving cheese and crackers into my mouth. "I think that's one of Becky's friends? I'm not sure," said one of the girls. "Weh, she don know who she fuhcking wiff" I said, my mouth full of crackers, spraying cracker bits and dust all over one of the girls, who walked away in disgust, brushing herself off. For the next hour, I positioned myself around this girl covertly, glaring at her and drinking imported lager after imported lager, pretending to listen to the people who tried to start conversations with me. "Well, yeah, I think that these new marketing initiatives will be really important in the next year, and uh, we'll see an interesting trend in the return of equities to the company if we keep up this aggressive growth, and um, embrace new media technologies that will enhance user experiences and increase brand loyalty through rebate incentives and...and..." I found myself saying, not even paying attention to the bullshit spewing from my lips. All I could think about was that girl, and how to outwit her. She looked so confident, smart, sassy... Drinking her Bass and tossing her head back with laughter, never making eye contact with me. It drove me crazy. I spent the rest of the night working up the drunken courage to approach her, trying to figure out something to say that would baffle her. At the same time though, I wanted to somehow impress her. I was oddly attracted to her. Twenty-four years old, and I still can't figure these things out. Anyway, things started to wind down as people started leaving, and only the drunkest remained. A good amount of people were still there though. I couldn't stomach anymore beer, and by that point I was really really drunk, and completely obsessed with confronting this mystery girl. So I finally stumbed over to her, everything around me moving slowly as I approached with hesitation. Even as drunk as I was, I was actually nervous. She stopped talking to her friends and just stood there, staring at me blankly as I slowly walked towards her, trying not to look as drunk as I actually was. I stood there for a moment, trying to compose myself, while her and her friends just looked at me. I think one of them was snickering at me. I hadn't really thought of what I was going to say to her exactly, so all that came out was: "Hey. So...uh...want to find out why they call me ostentatious B?" She stared at me...."Wh-what?" she asked, laughing a little bit. "Want to, uh...want to..haha...fuck. I don't know." I then held out my hand and offered her a proper introduction. Suprisingly she accepted it and seemed genuinely pleased to make my acquaintance. Her friends walked away from me and we stood there, slowly building up to a conversation, which was actually really interesting and lasted a good half hour before I abruptly told her that I had to go to bed and dream of electric sheep. Somehow I woke up with her email address written on a ripped piece of toilet paper in my pocket. I never found out why she was so rude to me upon her arrival. This girl baffles me so. I have yet to email her...I'm trying to figure out how to approach this. We'll see where this goes...

In my quest for self-improvement, I finally got myself to start going to the gym. I've gone once, anyway. I didn't care for it all that much. It reminded me of the times I used to go to the gym in college and all of the gross meatheads that would hog all the nautilus machines for like fifteen minutes at a time. There were a few meatheads at this gym, but luckily not nearly as many as I expected. There were also a bunch of sexy ladies in tight spandex, which made me really insecure and uncomfortable. Of course I was wearing all brand new clothes; a pair of New Balance running shoes I bought last week, new Nike shorts, a hot new Puma shirt. I considered getting a headband and some wristbands, but thought that might be too over the top. I bought them anyway, but didn't wear them at the gym. I also bought a new minidisc player, since I didn't want use my old one and get it dirtied up at the gym. I started out on one of those elliptical machines, and did that for about ten minutes before I looked around me and realized I was the only male in the gym using one. For fear of looking like a homosexual, I quickly switched to a treadmill. My performance was pretty laughable, and when I felt I had sweat enough, I got off the treadmill and walked toward the weight machines. I want to get my arms real huge and fierce-looking. As I was walking toward the weights, with my legs all wobbly, this big douche-looking meathead starts walking towards me. He's got the tiniest shirt on and his muscles are all glistening. He has this smirk on his face that just makes me hate him so much. So I try to look as sure-footed and physically competent as possible as I walk towards him. Of course, right when I am about to pass him, something, an eyelash or sweat or something, gets into one of my eyes, and I immediately flinch and blink really hard. The asshole thought I was flinching because of him, and as he passes me he laughs quietly–this confident, toughguy laugh. Dammit. Why did that have to happen? How am I supposed to prove myself in the gym scene if the resident muscleheads think I'm a big pussy and am already scared of them? I spent the next half hour working my rage out in the weight machine section. I mostly fantasized about bashing the guy's head in with a barbell. It really gave me a performance boost as I frantically went from machine to machine. Well, that, and all of the dietary and exercise supplements I purchased at GNC. My heart was palpitating a lot, but whatever. In the end, my first workout went really well, and I already feel better about myself. Plus I saw the guy who snickered at me get into his car (a Dodge Intrepid - ooooohhhhh), so he'll definately get vandalized in the near future. By me. I'm super psyched for this weekend. I'm going to a party tomorrow with some friends from college I haven't seen in a good while, and I'm feeling really confident. It's time to find me a new mate.

They told me that they think I need help. And getting help would lessen the chances of being fired. And I don't want to be fired because I fear change, and all the stress that comes along with searching for/getting a new job. So I had my first psychiatric session on Monday. I've never had one before. I think I learned a lot about myself and really understand how I can better myself and become the man I've always wanted to be.

The shrink was a nice guy...basically how I expected him to be. Soft-spoken, bearded, with a nice overall atmosphere in his office. Much nicer than the other offices I've been to as a child. Doctors, dentists, orthodontists, optometrists, allergy specialists, physical therapists, dermatologists, chiropractors, etc. For some reason, I immediately felt comfortable with this man. He seemed so approachable. And I was prepared to completely reveal myself to him. I didn''t care what he might think about me. It's his job to listen to what I say, no matter how unsettling it may be. So I sat on his nice little couch, and he basically just let me talk, which I love to do. He asked me to tell him about myself, about my childhood, my present life, and what I want for the future. I told him that I basically just want a nice big house by the beach, a hot wife, a bunch of foreign sportcars and luxury cars, and a really sweet home entertainment center. He told me that a lot of people my age are focused on material gain, but neglect their emotional and spiritual needs. I just nodded my head and said "yeah, but have you been to Best Buy lately? Those new plasma televisions are incredible! I can't wait to be able to afford one." Then he decided to change the subject. "Okay B, lie down and relax. I want to know what moves you. Tell me something about...the most beautiful thing you've ever seen." And I opened my mouth to speak but he quickly interrupted, "NOT something about televisions or cars or stereos either. Or women with big breasts." And I laid back for a moment and thought about what was really beautiful to me. And at first I couldn't think of anything. I could only think of bad things. Rigged elections, new world orders, media-biased wars, the oncoming complete downfall of humanity. "No," I said, "I'm a monster. All I can think about is bad stuff. And porn. A lot of porn." "Come on B," he coaxed, "I'm sure there's something you've seen or felt in your life that's really moved you. It can be anything. Not just a place or a person or a thing." "Well," I spoke softly, deep in thought, "there was this one time, this one thing I can remember, that for some reason, always seemed so special to me. It was few years ago." I paused in recollection. "Go on," he told me. "I had an internship during college, in San Francisco, during the peak of the dot-com boom. I was living outside the city, and I'd take the train in every day. On the walk from the train station I passed a lot of interesting sites. A lot of bums, mostly. But there was one day..actually I think it was two occasions, where I saw this young man crossing the street. And he was obviously retarded..um, he had down syndrome. He was probably in his twenties. But it looked like he was going to work or something. He had this brown leather briefcase slung over his shoulder..there was something about the way he carried himself that made him seem really purposeful and grown up. Just like anyone else in the city that was on their way to work. It really struck a chord in me. How someone so flawed at a fundamental genetic level could be so strong and independent and capable. It really seemed beautiful to me. I watched him for about a minute, then I ended up seeing him again on the same street a few days later, and it really made me happy to see him. It was really...wonderful." I sat there for a while longer, not saying anything. I think I really moved the shrink. He didn't say anything for a minute, then he spoke. "Wow B. That's really nice. I'm glad you can identify with something like that. You see? It shows you're not a monster at all. You're a sensitive, intelligent human being." "I'm a sensitive...intelligent...human being," I repeated to myself, quietly. "Okay B, our time is up. I want you to think about the things we've talked about, and further explore the things you've told me about yourself. Especially that last part. And I'd like you to come back again next week and elaborate on these things." I happily agreed, feeling like something had been lifted off of my shoulders. I shook his hand and went home to go play with my kitty, who I've been neglecting lately. I'll pick him up some cat treats and a new squeaky mouse since he lost his old one, I thought. Then I'll go to the Stop and Shop (not the Shoprite) and pick up some veggies so I can make a stir fry. Then I'm going to stop by the gym and finally get a membership. No more feeling like shit. No more hating everything and everyone. I want a girlfriend again. I'm going to make things better for myself.

I did all of those things on my way home. That night I dreamt about the shrink, and his beard, which for some reason seemed very fake in the dream. I woke up feeling very mistrusting. I dont need him, I thought. I'm going to turn things around myself, without his help. That's MY money, not his! Besides, I fulfilled my requirements at work by at least trying to see a psychiatrist for a session. That day I opened up a money market to start putting away money for my dream home entertainment center.

I hadn't been grocery shopping in a while, since I usually eat out as much as possible to feel like a wasteful New Yorker, but I really wanted to get some Jello pudding pops, since they just came back on the market after a long and needless hiatus. Anything that can help bring me closer to the childhood that is slowly eroding away is of much importance to me. Well, I normally go to the Stop and Shop, but for some reason, as I was about to pull into the parking lot, I felt compelled to pull across two lanes and drive into the parking lot for Shop Rite, on the other side of the road. Maybe they could offer me a better produce selection and more discounts. What an adventure. Everything there was all backwards, and I wandered around for like an hour and a half before I found everything I wanted. But being in that new shopping environment made me feel slightly more emotionally vulnerable for some reason. I walked the aisles in a childlike daze, finding all sorts of unhealthy goodies with which to fill my shopping cart. I also found the precious pudding pops, and I let out a small "hooray!' when I saw them, after scouring the ice cream section. This chubby old Puerto Rican lady gave me a strange look and I just held the box in front of my chest and gave her a big goofy grin, as if I were posing for a magazine advertisement or something. I then skipped back to my shopping cart, clutching the box tightly. Maybe that elation made me slightly more sensitive to my surroundings for some reason, because I suddenly found myself extremely upset a few minutes later. I was rolling down the second frozen foods aisle, full of glee, when I laid eyes on a treacherous beast. Just awful. I couldn't stop myself from staring when I saw this monster slowly floating towards me. It was this big fat white lady with a ton of food in her cart, but more than half the food was meat. For some reason it just looked like the grossest thing I'd ever seen. So much red and blood and flesh color, all shrinkwrapped, and stacked on top of each other. Her cart was filled with hamburger meat, chickens, ribs, and a bunch of shit that I couldn't even identify..pig's knuckles or something? And of course there were tons of potato chips and bottles of coca cola in there too. My eyes started tearing up. I couldn't look away. The fat lady drew closer, lumbering behind her death-cart. I stood there trembling, staring at her, a tear rolling down my cheek. She stopped right next to me to get some frozen chicken wings, bending over, revealing her enormous ass, folds among folds. After placing the 100-count bag of chicken wings in her cart, she saw me staring at her, crying gently, and she asked me, rather sweetly actually, "Honey, what's wrong?" and I couldn't speak for a moment, then managed to croak "There's...there's like four chickens in there!" pointing to her cart, and then broke out crying, grabbing my cart and racing off. I was wiping the tears from my eyes and almost lost control of the cart, nearly slamming into a couple of little kids. Luckily I was calmed by the time I reached the cereal aisle, but not after returning the few meat products I had bought and replacing them with bocaburgers and tofu pups. I quickly purchased all of my groceries and left the Shop Rite, never to return again.

On my way home I stopped at McDonald's and got a Big Mac, then went home and ate four delicious Jello pudding pops.

UGH...work's been so hard to deal with lately, especially because of the arrival of a new girl (entry level, right out of college) in the marketing department. She completely embodies everything I could have hated about girls in college. She's really bubbly, blonde, outgoing, and just flat out stupid. I'm not sure why she got hired...I guess she's got good people skills or something. And she's already gotten me in some serious trouble with upper management. I'm blaming it all on that bitch. I refuse to believe that I acted inappropriately. See, on Monday morning (she started last week) I was in the kitchen telling Dan about my plans for Independence day, and how I plan to celebrate my freedom by getting really drunk and lighting fireworks and blowing up all these dolls I've been collecting from thrift stores over the past month. And I was telling him "yo son, me and my crew's gonna get ILL this weekend! Ya heard? I's gonna blow the FUCK oughta these dolls dis weekend...shit, be all celebratin our fo'fathers and shit, muhfucka be all up in the fourth of joo-ly son!" and Dan's laughing his ass off and that's why I like him (he laughs at my jokes and stereotypical impersonations), and this new girl, let's call her "Candy" because she's so fucking blonde and stupid, that may as well be her name, she comes in to get some coffee and and she stops and looks at us and I'm wildly gesturing with my hands and yelling "yeeeahhh boyeee! blow them shits up TIGHT!" and instead of laughing (which she should have done) she kind shifts her eyes to the side of the room and says "ooookaayyyyyyy" really slowly, then backs out of the room. And then she giggled and went back to her desk. And she seemed to think that was really funny. Come on, like what I was doing was that outrageous. She's probably seen/done more outrageous stuff than that...like maybe getting railed by three fratboys at once while being videotaped. I've seen shit like that on the internet. So later that day, I walk by her desk and she's talking to another girl in her department, and I obnoxiously insert myself into the conversation and then start snooping around her desk while they're talking. I'm looking at all these photos she's got framed on her desk and see one that's obviously her and her boyfriend (douchey-looking guy) and I say "THAT'S your boyfriend? Oh." And she stops talking to the other girl and looks at me with this insulted expression on her face (her mouth all wide open, stupid-looking) and I say "He looks...nice." And then I turn my attention to another one of her and her sorority sisters, who are kind of hot, but the picture still bothered me. Her and the other girl are still talking, and then I see a picture of her with her parents and her dad's kind of funny looking and his smile is really awkward, and I say (much louder than I should have, I admit), "Holy Shit! Your dad looks like a child molester! Hey Dan! You've gotta come see this, Candy's dad looks like a child molester in this picture! HAHA!"

Dan never came over. "Candy" cried, and I got in big trouble with both my manager and the big man. I'm now on probation for the next month so I really have to watch my behavior in the office. I gave Candy my best fake-sincere apology, and she seemed to accept it. However, she IS stupid, her boyfriend DOES look like a douchebag, and her father DOES look like he's a child molester.

My boss wants me to consider seeing a psychiatrist. It'll probably help me keep my job, so I guess I have to do it. But it's all for not. No one can fix me.