I have this ridiculous urge to cry. Not because I'm sad or upset about anything, but simply to feel it. It doesn't make any sense. I've been conditioned to think crying is a weakness. I grow uncomfortable around grown men who cry. Crying would just make me feel awful about myself afterward.

For a while I worried that I couldn't really feel anything intensely. It wasn't that I was unhappy or depressed. I was afraid that I could never truly let myself feel something. Looking back on my life, I realize that I have never given myself completely to anything. I rarely revel in an emotion for long. I don't give much of myself to anyone or anything. I don't feel passionately for any one thing. And I always found it strange that I couldn't feel the way others seem to feel. Especially nowadays, I don't allow myself to get carried away by my emotions. But I want intensity. I crave passion, whether it be for a hobby or a person. They might seem like two totally disparate types of passion, but they both require desire, duration, and utter devotion.

I do love though. :] I laugh a lot; I cry on occasion. Yet it feels as if I lack a fire inside. Or it seems as if I'm holding myself back from fully experiencing my feelings. Perhaps I just need to let my guard down. Maybe I need to stop being so careful with my everyday dealings. For once, I should just smile or laugh or cry without thinking about the consequences.

i need someone
a person to talk to
someone who'd care to love
could it be you
could it be yo-ou
the situation gets rough,
and i start to panick
its not enough
its just a habit
and, kid, you're sick
darling this is it
well you can all just kiss off into to the air
behind my back
i can see that stare
they'll hurt me bad but i won't mind
they'll hurt me bad they do it all the time
yea yea
yea they do it all the time
yea yea
they do it all the time
yea yea
they do it all the time
do it all the time
they do it all the time
do it all the time
they do it all the time
do it all the time
I hope you know that this will go down on your permanent record
oh yea
well don't get so distressed
did i happen to mention that i'm impressed
i take one one one cause you left me and
two two two for my family and
three three three for my heartache and
four four four for my headaches and
five five five for my lonely and
six six six for my sorrow and
seven seven n-no tomorrow and
eight eight i forget what eight was for and
nine nine nine for a lost god
ten ten ten ten for everything everything everything
well you can all just kiss off into to the air
behind my back
i can see that stare
they'll hurt me bad but i won't mind
they'll hurt me bad they do it all the time
yea yea
yea they do it all the time
yea yea
yea they do it all the time
do it all the time
do it all the time
do it all the time
do it all the time
do it all the time
time time time time
timetimetimetimetimetimetimetime
do it all the time






The song is stuck in my head. Ah, well.

I opted out of "debauchery" tonight. Simply not in the mood, especially after work. Most of my friends are at Donna's house, and it isn't very difficult to figure out what they're doing. It involves booze, loud music and karaoke.

Oh, and by the way: HAPPY BIRTHDAY again, Richard! I hope you're having fun.

I feel like today has been in stark contrast to yesterday. Thursday versus Friday, I mean. Thursday was FUN. After my class I drove over to the Press Telegram to hang out with Kristopher Hanson in the newsroom. He writes the ports beat for the PT. I was surprised when the elevator doors slid open and he was already holding the office door open for me. He is much younger than I had anticipated. He's only 29, but looks younger. Kris first gave me a tour of the newsroom and literally introduced me to everyone who was there. Then he decided he wanted to show me around the ports in his old Monte Carlo with the kitchen rugs on the seats. I imagined that the entire ordeal would be fairly one-sided, with me asking all of the questions, but he was genuinely interested in the EC program and what I was planning on doing with my career. The ports tour was actually pretty fascinating. I usually just drive straight on through it whenever I do happen to go to Long Beach, but Kris pointed out a lot of things about the ports. He also gave me some background information. It was originally inhabited by Japanese fishermen, but after WWII and the internment camps, it became heavily industrialized. After the little drive, he started working on a story about liquefied natural gas that was due that evening. I think I'm writing too much detail. I don't particularly like it when I do that. Anyway, a highlight of the evening was when I played football (just catch) in the newsroom with some of the older writers. We had to remain seated while we were catching and throwing, though. Yadda yadda yadda.

On to the late night festivities. I picked up Emily from Gamestop and we went to Sara's house, but first Sara made us buy cheese for her spaghetti. Mmm... spaghetti and chocolate milk. We watched the latter half of "Brokeback Mountain," but all the sentimentality of the movie was ruined by the captions and our various comments. Poor men. They liked it rough. :[ Then David came over and it all went to crap. :P I kid. We played Scrabble, but this time it was Emily and I versus David and Sara. And we owned them. The game was remarkably improved over the last, what with words like "ravish" coming into play. After that... what did we do? We whiled away the time talking. Yes, kids. Talking. It was very nice.

Oh, and FUCK the rain. I love it but it refuses to indulge me. After the dry spell, it rained while I was sleeping. I only knew it had rained when I looked out the window in the morning and saw that everything was drenched. And tonight it rained but I was unfortunately at work. I want to run around in the rain. Not in the nude, mind you, but I used to love just standing in the rain, or twirling when no one was looking. I used to jump into puddles as well, but I always took GREAT CARE not to get my socks wet.

Must quit soon. No offense to you, Boss-man Chris. I just can't stand the place anymore. I spent eight hours there today and I was in the worst mood imaginable by the end of it. And I am usually a very agreeable person. :P (Oz would disagree.) I have another eight hours of Hell ahead of me Saturday and Sunday. Yay. All the time between the end of the semester and the start of the next will be spent searching for a much better job and finishing my college applications. Unfortunately, most of those applications are for out-of-state schools again. I think I'm only applying to a couple of SoCal universities.

I think I will go watch "Spinal Tap" now.