i have been extremely bipolar lately, and i hereby apologize to everyone who's had to deal with it firsthand. i've been easy to upset and easy to excite; it must be incredibly frustrating to try to encourage a good mood and be met with 'no, i'm pissed at the world again, and everyone in it, including you.' so i do apologize. i'm on an even keel now; you can assume i am when you see me, and i'll try not to bite your head off if it's not the case.

i went driving last night. sometimes it's the only thing that helps. i took route 7 as far as pomeroy, singing loudly to a mixed cd that turned out to be full of mostly depressing music, then chose to obliterate the melancholy with a good dose of james. i know my moods must not mean much if a song or two can reverse them, but they do occasionally give me clarity. sometimes it's easier to listen to the lead singer of a beloved musical group than the friends and family who know me all too well.

i feel particularly alive behind the wheel of my car. and i feel i could die at any moment behind the wheel of my car. it's an exhilarating combination.

i don't know what's been wrong with me lately. and i guess i've reached some level of comfort where i feel i don't really have to know. ambiguous bouts of quasi-depression are to be expected, especially since i have all sorts of unrealistic expectations, the world lets me down, i let myself down, and i do nothing to change any of it.

i know i am solely responsible for my own reactions and moods, and that's why this statement really struck me the other day in my comm of loving class: 'since we all make everything up anyway, why not make it the best damn world and have as much fun as we can?'

i do believe that, that we make everything up. i've always been a big believer in blank slate, i think nurture plays a much bigger role than nature in determining who we are, i think gender and other things are illusions and societal constructs, and occasionally i agree with my buddhist uncle that this entire world 'is all smoke and mirrors.' reality itself could all be an illusion and all i really know is my mind. so i might as well interpret the world as beautifully as i can. i might as well feel as good as i can. there's no real reason not to.

also thanks to comm of loving, i realize there are many different 'styles' of loving, and i'm not going to obsess over mine anymore. this feels a lot like online quiz results, but for these purposes i'll pretend you can sum me up in such a category: i am a 'storgic' lover, a style characterized by long friendship evolving into love and valuing companionship over sexuality. and if i'm 'unnaturally' disinterested in sex, it may be because i think so little of the body i don't think sex is anywhere near the connection intellectual intercourse (sing it, alanis) can give you. sure, it feels good, but i think we're so much more than our bodies. anyway, i'm not going to feel like a freak anymore. i'm just going to do my thing, be happy if i find a like-minded soul, and be happy if i don't. chad says 'think of it more as a philosophy of love, a way of looking at the world,' and i think that's so exactly it.

off to lunch and then a long day of catch-up work. i'm determined to make the most of it.

I'm living in the weirdest dream Where nothing is the way it seems, Where no one's who they need to be, Where nothing seems that real to me. What can we build our lives upon - No wall of stone, no solid ground. The world is spinning endlessly, We're clinging to our own beliefs. Born of frustration...
james