Stupid Blogger. Stupid Sun machine. I have been trying all day to get in here... and now I gotta go home.

I really need a hug right now... or a nice long kiss. Or even a quick fuck. Gimme physical... Don't want yer luv. Don't want yer monay. Just want ya sweet and sour hunnay...

Too many thoughts abound... Age old question. Where do I go from here? I feel so empty again... What's the big problem? Why can't I communicate anymore??

It seems so hard to strike up normal conversations these days... I don't know what to say to get closer to people, and I can't think of something clever to say in the meantime. Not being able to connect the way I want to is disheartening. I want to get to know him, her, and you... not everyone, a select few. Why is it so hard? Maybe I know too much already, and have assumed the rest... Or maybe I want to keep thinking you are the person I think you are, and I shy away from finding out I'm wrong about you. Maybe I just don't know how to give gifts... Or maybe I just need to read a modern-day version of the book How to Win Friends and Influence People.

I have not been reading; I am not learning much these days. The last two books I read all the way through, I read during my trip to China last summer. It's almost been a year since that trip... gosh, so hard to believe that it's been almost a year... One of the books I read during the my flight there was Go Ask Alice. That book has been on my mind lately... even before last Friday! If you haven't read it yet, DO.

Failed to enjoy work. Actually, failed even to try to enjoy it. Still fogged down a bit...

I believe that emotional trauma causes similar types of damage that the use of drugs can cause. It's funny to hear people say that drugs have made it hard for them to focus and remember things, think clearly and quickly, analyze thoroughly, communicate succinctly, and to strive for more than simple pleasures... because I have not had a drug problem so far but have been suffering from all of those exact same symptoms... for some time now. I first noticed the decline in college... during and after the psycho-ex years. My creativity dwindled, and I stopped being able to write. The druggies have finally caught up to me...

I am going to force myself to enjoy work today. Mind over misery. Let's see if I can do it.

Criminy!!! So I decide to look e up on the internet now... AFTER. Stupidass me.... The side effects include such things as paranoia, confusion, insomnia, anxiety, depression... all things I do NOT need a surplus of in my life! The effects last up to 2 weeks... so expect these sorts of blog entries for about that long. Tomorrow, I head out to GNC or the drugstore to pick up that 5HTP (I wonder if I could OD that stuff). I am convinced, finally, that I need to be serious about countermeasures. So much trouble out of one, er two, little pills... Arrrrghhh.

I just came back from a day of playing paintball. I had fun, but could've had a funner time. I dunno... something was kinda unsettling about seeing friends from different places all at once. I've seen it before... but not with people from such different parts of my life. Allie was there, my cousin Doug was there... and there were new people that I had met recently, like Sean, and people I just met today, like Kyle. I felt pressure to make sure everyone was having a good time, but I felt unable to connect with anyone. I haven't had enough sleep lately, and maybe that's why I felt so awkward. Sometimes I just don't have the energy to search for the appropriate words... I don't think I will coordinate anything big again for awhile. Maybe I need to do my own thing for some time... would love to take a trip by myself somewhere. I'm convinced that that's what the doctor would recommend for all that ails me.

Since getting home, I've been feeling depressed. The feeling started to grow on me since during the last paintball games. I just wanna go to bed and experience dreamless sleep for days... or nap in the warm sunlight while listening to the noises the breeze makes as it touches the objects around me. Warmth and those sounds will bring up pleasant items from my memory... I don't like working out some of my issues. I need to put them in the recycle bin and trash them, and move on... There is a moral to this story, and I must remember it.

The more I think about it, the less "should I or shouldn't I do it again?" is the question. I could have perfectly innocent e-pisodes that won't jeopardize any of my valued relationships or significantly bring down my health. And I really should have more faith in myself not to start an addiction to anything so harmful to my wellbeing... I think the real question is, "am I letting repression do me more harm than help?" If I use drugs as a way and excuse to unleash my inhibitions, I think I could actually become more addicted to the release than to the drugs. Not a well-thought-out idea...but deserving of notation nonetheless. I should resolve what to do about the above... Arghh, I'll repress dealing with repression for now. Seems so silly... and I have to get some sleep.

So last nite I finally went out to see why ppl rave about raves and to try e. I had been holding off until now for good reasons... one being that I kinda already knew that I would like e. I wouldn't go to a rave w/o also dropping because the price of admission does not seem worth just the music and environment. I'm not into trance as much as some; I feel as if I could compose/execute that type music myself if I made it my full-time job. Ok, maybe I wouldn't sell any CDs... Anyhow, a tendency toward drug and alcohol addiction/abuse runs in my dad's side of the family. Rather than guess that I have not inherited the tendency, I assume I do so that I can prepare myself against it...

To date, I've not been into recreation drugs, and I don't want to get into them at any point in my life. The ideal scenario is that I achieve a level of satisfaction that would cut out the need for exaggerated states of happiness that come from drugs like e. Whether reaching that level is possible for me, I don't know. But I want to work toward it and fail miserably before I start a reliance on drugs for highs. Drugs could bring me down way too quickly. I might actually fear the indirect consequences of doing drugs more than the direct ones. Yes, I worry about eventual death, but I don't worry as much about what drugs would do to my body as what they could do to my relationships... with Dave, my friends, my parents, etc.

I'm glad I tried e at least once. I'm not sure where exactly it lies on the scale of addictivity. But I think that for me any drug would be close to a 10. My experience... e definitely offered me the opportunity to act upon repressed desires. I counted on being able to attribute whatever I did last nite to e. I knew what I was doing, and didn't do anything that would repulse me if I had to do it sober. e did everything I would want a drug to do. It seems like the ideal drug. And I think that, yes, e heightens the happiness that is already inside someone... For those who didn't seem to revel in rolling as much as I did last nite, I think they weren't as happy because they brought issues to the table that had a limiting effect. I mean, you shouldn't try a drug if you are skeptical, or you plan to fight the effects, or if you have serious problems with the possibility of letting others see a true, uninhibited you.

So will I drop e again? I won't deny that I want to, but I am going to try hard to stay away from it. Having just dropped once, the pressure that my repressed desires place on me to come out has increased. I mean, whatever I wanted before, I want even moreso now that I've had a taste... I can remember the feelings I had on e, and hopefully I will forget soon so I don't end up sabotoging my future...

I experience sudden onslaughts of intense rage too. Something like spontaneous combustion. It almost feels good, though, to be that pumped up and lively. I'm always convinced it's righteous anger; I wouldn't have entered rage stage if whatever tripped me off didn't wholly deserve my wrath. It brings me chills to feel so alive... though there is always a lurking fear that if I did release the fireball, it would be as ineffective as a spark. I mean, I worry that my effectiveness would not match my fervor... just like in my dreams, when I never manage to do any damage to my attackers even though I'm swinging with all my might. I would feel so stupid because I couldn't pull through. Now add my fear of death. I no longer battle cars that have cut me off because now I imagine they all have bats in their trunks or guns in their glove compartments, and won't hesitate to use them on lil ol' ineffective me. I haven't had a bout of rage in the last couple months. Maybe my level of passion in general has decreased a bit since the new year...

I was wondering the other day whether I should work on getting rid of my fear of death, or at least toning it down. My answer was no, because I think that the fear is helping me preserve my life, as well as the quality of it. But I really feel silly always bringing it up as an excuse not to do things...

And people wonder why I don't wanna smoke pot while riding in their cars...

I can't sleep tonite. I think it's 'cuz i went to bed w/ damp hair, around 2 in the morning. My nose is running. When you have insomnia, but aren't really alert, your mind races. I keep thinking about all the stuff I have to do tomorrow... and I feel paranoid. I'm worried I will not do everything I need to do tomorrow in a timely manner, and plans will not pan out the way I want them to. I'm such a control freak. I'm also strangely worried about my death... I mean, my fear of death isn't new, but it's strange that I am actually examining events in my near future for any endangerment to my life. I do this when I am on ski lifts. I always try to have the optimal escape route calculated and ready in my mind to act upon in the event of an accident... If this chair were to fall, what's the most I could do to escape death? What is the best way to fall to incur the least damage? ...as if tucking into a ball and trying to eject myself out of the chair feet first could actually be done in the split second that it takes for the accident to occur... I want to do Friday Nite Skate again in the near future, but I am afraid this time I will die. I was so fearless the first time, having only rollerbladed a couple times, and not knowing how to brake yet. I am going to a rave this Friday... and there are seem to be many random and not-so-random ways I could die during/after the event. I was never before fearful about having large amounts of people around me. But for some reason, I am now. What do I fear? Mostly that I will be randomly selected for sabotoge... or that I will die on the way home. I really don't trust anyone else's driving these days. I wasn't like that in the past... would embrace free rides. Now I want to be designated driver when it's not Dave driving me to and from. I wonder how my driving compares to that of all of my friends... It would be cool if I could take them all to a race track one of these days and compare. I think I drive relatively well, but there is no way for me to be certain about it unless I raced others. I'm talking about driving stick... When you drive an automatic, and don't have to worry about the stick, you focus a bit more on manueverment. I used to weave a lot more when I had an automatic. When you drive a stick, you focus more on speed timing and other efficiencies... I think I have a good handle of those aspects. And I think I am more kinesthetically inclined than some. The one thing I can't really do well w/ my body is dance. I would love to learn how to dance... Need to get myself some of those clear plastic platforms that strippers wear. I love those. Saw 'em at a couple stores on Haight. Gotta get 'em one of these days.

I am going to try to go to sleep now. I have to be at work at 8:30am. Sigh.

"Can you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?"

I would hope so. To date, no one's ever come to me directly and said they couldn't quite. But maybe... maybe I am not very easily understood. I try to say things the simplest way possible. Sometimes I take shortcuts when I feel as if I can do so and still be understood. But I think that my whole perception of how I am coming across might be skewed. I think it might be an nightmarish experience to interact with myself from a third-person point of view.

I mean, either what I am saying doesn't make sense to you, sounds absurd to you, or needs clarification. Let me know which... instead of simply saying "huh?" or "what?" Help me help you understand me.

Tonight we play rollerhockey. I hope that the night doesn't get cancelled for any dumb reason. I can't afford to NOT play once a week. I need to kick up my skills a couple notches. And FAST. Will NOT let *anyone* surpass me. Especially not those competitive frebay folks who organize games w/o including me... Their clandestine games will not help them gain advantage over me.

So many goddamn times I wanna write here... but can't because I don't have a computer at home. Pity. I have so many things I gotta let out. I have badly wanted a laptop for quite awhile. Despite the fact that I'm not going to get to own my own computer for several years, I'm starting a new blog now. I wanna release all my thoughts somewhere... no-holds-barred. My new blog will include irrational rants, forbidden fantasies, and the mundane details of my day-to-day grind.

I have been getting to work past 11 for the last two weeks. That's not normal. I'm going thru something. Doesn't help that the weather keeps on changing unpredictably... I'm repressed, but voluntarily. I feel as I'm being a "good" girl, going down the shortest and straightest path to success and long term happiness. See, now I'm thinking long term. I'm also eating a lot more than before. Why is it so hard to get up in the mornings, even when I have a great motive to do so? I should get up early and exercise before I get in to work. I'm still on a quest to subdue the aging process. I must look good to make you love me. I continuously struggle with work, as I currently know it, being such a fact-of-life... spending so much time doing something that does nothing more for me than pay my bills. I want to do something that involves travel and more interaction with unique people.

I want to be an agent... Have you ever watched an episode of Alias? I would die within the first five mintues of my first mission. I don't have what it takes. But I wish I did. I am drawn to the idea of living a double life. Not because of the deception... but because it would allow me to experience more than one lifestyle simultaneously. I would not stoop to duplicity of lifestyle w/o justification. So many possibilities, so many types of Jennies... each just as interesting as the next. It seems a shame that I can only be one at once.

I tend to watch TV shows that are centered around the subject of death. Lately, I've been watching Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, and CSI. I tried watching Six Feet Under... but it was a bit too morbid for me. I wonder what working with dead people would do to me. Would it help me deal better with the issue of death? Or would it make me even more paranoid and preoccupied with death? Most probably the latter.

I feel sorry for my future kids. I don't know if I could resist the urge to try to make them my puppets. When they're old enough to overpower me, I dunno what I'd do. Maybe by then I'll be worn down and passive, like a neutered animal. Now, I suffer from power-envy. I want you to adore me, to be curious about me, to be impressed by me... I want you to laugh at my jokes, value my opinion... I want to collect you like toys. I would treat you well...

I don't really want to see him or talk to him on the phone;I imagine it would be awfully awkward. I wish there was some way he could just know what I want him to know... that the reason I couldn't be with him back then isn't that he wasn't a good boyfriend or that I'd stopped loving him. He was a near-perfect to me... sweet, caring, thoughtful, smart, funny, cute, forever lovable, and more. It WASN'T him, it WAS me. Maybe he already knows that or doesn't really need or care to know now. I wish I could be sure that if it matters, he knows. It'd be great if he somehow stumbled upon my blog and read all this here.

I logged in to my Hotmail account today to do some cleanup... to check to see there was any email from anyone from my distant past, by chance, amidst all the email re: parties and porn. Nothing but garbage in there. I emptied all the folders... except one, which contains some really old but memorable emails I've received. There were a couple from Brian... and I got blurry-eyed reading them. I wonder when/if I'm ever going to see him or talk to him. I wonder if I will ever stop feeling bad about the way I left him.

What I need to do is go grab my keyboard from my parents' home.