Monday, November 24, 2014

Inside of me, in spite of me.

I've touched very briefly on having depression issues in the past, and I'd like to get into that in more depth. This post was spurred on by Depression Quest, and is going to deal with depression in general. I would like to avoid getting bogged down with any of the associated "scandals" or of any "movement" which may or may not suspiciously rhyme with "Flamer Hate."

As I mentioned in my last entry, I often don't even want to bring up my own experiences with depression because I know others have had it so much worse. I don't want to diminish anyone else's suffering, and I certainly hope that's not how it comes across. I think there's always some value in talking about personal experiences with mental illness, even if they are comparatively mild. A lot of people still don't understand what depression is, and so it follows that there is light yet to shed on the topic.

It's taken me forever to finally get around to playing through Depression Quest, and a large part of the reason is that I was afraid of how much it might hit home for me. I wouldn't call it denial, but things have been good for long enough that my history with depression just kind of floats out of my mind, and I forget that my relationship with depression is ongoing. A few years ago, I was complaining to a co-worker (my boss, actually) about how unaccomplished I feel for someone in my age group, and without missing a beat, she said "It's probably fair to say you've had some wounds to heal from in the past, and that takes time. There's no point in comparing your situation to anyone else's, nobody faces the same challenges." It completely threw me off... as I said, this was my boss... sure, we talked, but I don't think I was any more open with her than I have been with most people I associate with. Am I really that transparent, and more importantly, if someone else can see it, am I still hurting?

Well, the short answer is yes. This is why I call myself an artist and a lot of close friends haven't seen any of my work. This is why I miss social events because I'm "exhausted from work" and other people can manage work, school, and a social life with ease. This is why I'm writing this now and not immediately after Robin Williams died.

My motivation suffers pretty badly, and I tend to be acutely aware of my limitations.
That said, I'm very content with life, and a lot more social now than I was for a great deal of my life. Again, I must re-iterate: I'm doing much better than I have in the past. I don't talk about it a lot because I'm still ashamed of it, but there was a period a few years ago where my self-worth was very low, and I was very close to pulling a disappearing act; just moving away to somewhere that nobody would find me. Not telling family or friends, just leaving and starting over. I guess when you're depressed it's very easy to blame external factors, because there's no logical reason that your brain should be doing this to you. Why do you feel this way? There has to be a reason, right?

Well, the short answer is no.

Getting back to depression quest, playing through it, I related to the protagonist more closely than I had even feared, but at the same time, it was so comforting to have my own thought processes mirrored in someone else's words. Depression is still something that people don't talk about enough, and nothing illustrated that to me more clearly than playing this game. It's important to raise the point that depression is not just sadness; it's not just a reaction to a negative experience, and it isn't easily remedied by positive experiences. One facet of Depression Quest that stood out to me was its portrayal of being depressed in a romantic relationship. When I was younger I used to think that finding love would change everything and make me a happy person. It wasn't until I found myself lying on my bed so I wouldn't faint, on the phone with one of my first girlfriends on the other end of the line, cutting herself, that I realized: Love doesn't fix people.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Dan: The Man?

**Hypothetical Conversation**

Co-worker: "Wow, you look tired."
Me: "Yeah, I didn't get a lot of sleep."
Co-Worker: "Oh yeah. Late night out or something?"
Me: "No, I was just up all night wrestling demons."
Co-Worker: "…so, like in a video game or…?"
Me: "No, just demons."

You know how when artists start being recognized for their work, and they feel like maybe they're fake, or their work is somehow unworthy of the credit it's been given? Well I often find myself with impostor syndrome with regards to the challenges in my life… I'll catch myself saying "well I was hit as a child, but I dunno, it barely ever happened, I'm not sure that's even valid" or "I've been depressed before, but when I hear other people talk about depression it seems a lot more substantial." There is some truth to it, I mean, a lot of my experiences are a lot more mild than the ones other people have shared with me, but the fact that I feel like it's not worth even recounting my struggles is something I'd really like to get over.

Recently a friend of mine came out as trans, and posted some very witty and informative FAQs about the whole thing. This got me really thinking about something I'd already internalized but never felt the need to share. Again, like my feelings and experiences somehow lack the validity to be vocalized. What I'm trying to say is that when it comes right down to it, I'm not all man… no, not that Not-All-Man! I have a lot of femininity to me, and I used to express it a lot, but I think through pressure to grow up and join the workforce--especially living in a small, often closed-minded community--I started repressing it. Looking back I've noticed that my gender expression has waxed and waned profoundly based on how appropriate that kind of expression was at work. For example, when I moved into the city and worked at a thrift store, everything was fair game.

Even then though, when you're an effeminate male, everyone's first assumption is that you're a homosexual. I identify as bi/pansexual, but I don't think my orientation informs my exact gender identity. When you look at hetero or homosexuality, there are all these bold lines that people draw with regards to gender, but when your preference is all-inclusive, the gender binary becomes pretty meaningless; those lines don't just blur, they're simply not present. In that respect I think my orientation has made it much easier to accept the fact that I don't feel entirely male. Gender wiki informs me that I'm Genderqueer, and I'm perfectly happy with that. In the past, I have briefly mentioned wishing I was a girl when I was much younger, but that was a pretty superficial train of thought, and I have otherwise never experienced anything approaching physical gender dysphoria. If anyone had honestly asked me in the past decade if I felt like a woman trapped in a man's body, I would've said "No, probably closer to a gender neutral entity that happens to inhabit a man's body." In other words, if we were to simplify gender into a two-dimensional spectrum, I'd have to say that I'm slightly femme of centre.

Is anyone surprised?

Seriously though, maybe you just want to call me a sensitive intellectual, who is still entirely male. Why do I have to be something different?

Look, I have a hard time even interfacing with highly masculine people, because society tells me I'm the same as them and should act like it! The past couple years I've felt like less of an outsider because when you can grow a beard, people tend to think, "well, close enough."

Why do I have to be something different, well why not? Why should I feel like I have to hide behind a beard? Can't we talk about how fucked up the gender binary is to begin with?

To sum up, there's nothing I've put down here that couldn't have easily been inferred by any keen observer, I'm a girly man, and I'd like to stop being self-conscious about it. On a personal level, I will not be offended if you keep using male pronouns for me, but if you believe as I do that the gender binary is totally bunk, and that gender pronouns are a critical cog in the patriarchal oppression machine, you are more than welcome to refer to me as she, they, or if you want to get really cooky, ze.

I'm sure there are still some of you that think I'm confused, or just taking my personal politics too seriously, and I'll probably never convince you otherwise. If you're willing to humour me but still don't see why I need a new label for myself, I get that… I mean, that's basically why I'm coming out as genderqueer at 29 and not 19. Simply put, it gives a better idea of what can be expected of me, and more to the point, my gender identity largely shapes my relationships, especially when it comes to romance.

In the past I've quipped that the reason none of my relationships have worked out is that I was too much woman for my partners to handle.
Well, I guess that's not a joke.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Long Forgotten Fairytale

I recently made a visit to my hometown, and for the first time in a long while, I went for a walk as soon as I got in. The particular path I took brought up a lot of old memories in me. I passed a lot of places I used to go on a weekly basis, for you see, when you live in Port Alberni as a kid, and go against the grain (or the grain alcohol, as the case may be) you might find yourself bored and intelligent, with little recourse left to you but youth volunteering. I was involved in a weekly youth page in the local paper and helped put together a rather successful youth forum, but what really grabbed my interest was a group then known as YouthQuest. YouthQuest was a youth group for LGBT kids. In a small redneck mill town. I made some friends, learned a lot, and got to watch awesome movies like But I'm a Cheerleader.

I'd kind of forgotten about it, but I spent years going to those weekly meetings with a handful of friends and my sister. Eventually the primary organization disbanded and our group had to become independent and come up with a new name. We went with Wilde Youth, in reference to Oscar Wilde, and on our own, in 2006, we organized the first ever Pride event in Port Alberni, with the City's recognition. My band at the time, Japanese Economy Cars played at the event.

Sometimes I forget I've done anything with my life.

I think it's worth noting how far along things have progressed for LGBTI individuals. (For example, they just added the "I" for Intersex.) I definitely remember in my earlier years being convinced that no one would ever be an LGBTI ally without personally having something at stake, but time has repeatedly proven me wrong on that one, and I'm more than okay with that.

In case you were wondering, the title of this post is definitely referencing this song:

Friday, July 5, 2013

Right about now, I could use a winning streak.

This is probably ill advised, but something very recent has got me down, and I'm going to talk about it now instead of waiting for my head to clear. Tonight, I was supposed to go on a date, but yesterday the whole thing was called off. She's still hung up on someone else, and decided to do the mature thing and let me know before things got messy. An unfortunate circumstance that's pretty much beyond either of our control, and I admire her for being so real about it. I know those feelings, and I'd like to think I would make the same call were I in her shoes.
That said, a little part of me wanted to just say "let's stick it out and just deal with it if things get ugly," but I've listened to that little part before and regretted it every time. I stuttered and stammered just trying to come out with some hope, and settled on "maybe sometime in the future we can try again," which is really all I could hope for.
So yeah,
we'll see.
In all honesty, I'd like for her to be happy, and I don't think conflicting emotions are going to help that along in any way. It's probably for the best to just let this drop off before it begins. It's really hard, though, not saying all I want to say. I typically make it my business to explain myself, but I don't think it will do any good.
I guess my feelings can be strong, and I can be candid, and I am intimately familiar with driving people off in this way. But it's been a while since that was even an issue, and that's kind of the root of things. There's just no way to say to someone "I like you, and before we got to know each other, I was not sure I would ever even like another person." That's a lot of pressure, and I don't want it to be true, but it is. Over the past year or so I've met a lot of beautiful girls who've made obvious their intentions, but I simply cannot be bothered.
Knowing exactly what I want is something I've always striven for, and never thought I'd realize. I'd always been a fool for any girl who showed me much interest, and I had no idea what I was looking for. Before this girl, I can't think of a single time I've tried. Period. I'd never been persistent, or made any effort to be noticed. I'd never tried to get the girl. But this time I did try, I just had a feeling. And then we got to talking, and we have tons in common, and I was starting to believe that maybe somebody would get me the way that I'd always wished I would get somebody else.

And here I am, making it sound like a huge breakup, but it's not. I don't mean to belittle other people and their real breakups.
What I'm experiencing is just disappointment at a vast loss of potential.

let's see how long it takes me to regret writing this.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Real Women: The war on the body

It hasn't come up yet, but I've been meaning, for a rather long while, to talk about my views on women. More pointedly, my views on society's views on women. So it begins...
Body Image.
This subject has always been hard for me to approach. What I mean by that is that as a man, it's hard to express one's adoration for certain body types without coming across as some sort of fetishizing creep. Personally, I've always wanted to have a t-shirt made that says "Yes Fat Chicks" but the veneration of one thing so often translates to the exclusion of another. When it comes down to it, the thing I'm most attracted to in a woman is her qualities, and that means just what it sounds like. I don't have a physical type, because who can settle on one? Red hair? Cool! I love hair! I think you get the picture. Now, some people will read this and think "low standards" but in my words, it's more a priority of standards. Imagine it's you're wedding night. Now, what the fuck are you marrying? Are you marrying a body? Is that really all? If so, I feel sorry for you.
It's generally a universal constant that I am single, and in truth, that is very often, very much by choice. I'm incredibly particular about who I will engage in a relationship with, and by this point it should be obvious that it's all about compatibility and personality for me. Physical appearance is just icing on the cake, and again I gotta say, there's no such thing as a bad icing.
It's kind of funny talking about this, because it's something that seems to have confused a lot of women about me. I identify as bisexual, and in my personal experience, that has been met with a lot of skepticism on literally all fronts. Gay people think I'm faking, and secretly straight, and a lot of girls that I've become involved with seem to think that deep down, I'm totally gay. Now the reason for the latter, is probably because I'm a major fangirl. If we get down to talking about celebrity crushes, mine are just about all male. The reason, though, is pretty simple: why would I idolize an actress for her beauty when in my eyes, just about every girl I walk past is as gorgeous?
Every time I try to explain myself, I feel like I'm alienating more and more people.
I know this viewpoint isn't the most common; it seems that a lot of people know what they like and go after it single-mindedly, and I know a lot of damage has resulted from this societal norm. Sometimes I look at myself and wonder "why does a slender figure matter so much to some people and so little to me?" and I typically end up citing the way I was raised. I remember as a kid seeing ads for Rita MacNeil's albums on TV. One time, I made reference to Rita Repulsa, the big bad from Power Rangers. My mom heard me, didn't get the reference, and tore a strip out of me for being a douche. It was just a misunderstanding, but I still think that was probably a good indicator of how not fucking okay that sort of attitude was to have.

Musical Interlude: Anyone else forget just how fucking metal the theme to Power Rangers was?

Now, I'm not going to pretend that I was some sort of paragon of virtue when it came to body image. If we're being totally honest, I used to call my younger brother fat all the time. He wasn't even fat, I was just skinnier, I guess. This sort of thing kept up until I finally realized how much I was hurting his feelings. Kids can be cruel, but that's no excuse... I remember getting called anorexic all the time at school. I remember thinking I was hideous because I was so tall and emaciated. Thinking how maybe people would like me better if I had filled out more... or if I were a girl... when you're a girl, skinny is attractive. I suppose I developed a bit of animus towards other body types because I was so unhappy with my own. I got over it, of course, as I grew older and realized that a scrawny goth was still totally a hot goth, but that phase came with it's own set of troubles. *shudder*
But still, the crap I got about being skinny when I was younger is no excuse for taking it out on my brother.

Along the same vein, there's no excuse for the way people react towards those who fall within the established strictures of "beauty." I see more and more platitudes being thrown around about how curvy women are a million times more desirable than someone who's rail thin, and while I fully support the celebration of heavier body types, it doesn't have to be divisive. There's a lot of "skinny hate" going around now, and yes, I fully appreciate the well-deserved resentment of the fashion industry, but that's where it ends. I know plenty of people who fit the societal standards of beauty, and that's their healthy weight. We're so prone to comparing ourselves to others, but it shouldn't matter who's thinner or heavier. To some people though, it does, and it breaks my heart every time I think about it.

There's so much pressure put on women, and I don't feel like people think about that enough. Every woman you meet must be so fucking strong from a lifetime of scrutiny and self-scrutiny. The ones who make it out with a healthy view of their bodies are smart, and fortunate, but every single woman is so strong for what they have endured.
Well, those are my thoughts, and I'm not taking them back.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Social Transient.

I think I'm going to have to develop a routine for posting if I ever want to do it more frequently than every two months or something. I definitely don't mean to be this infrequent with it. Truth be told, I had a half-hearted resolution to do more writing this year. Frankly, it looks like I only published two posts last year, so I'm a third of the way to "more writing."

Today, I'd like to talk about the barriers between myself and other people, and I'd like to pretend that this is a wholly unique instance, and it hasn't been the focal point of a handful of previous posts. Well, no time like the present to drop the bomb. My name is Dan, and I'm an introvert.

There, I said it. Boy is that a load off my chest! I've been holding it in so long, but it was time. Time to clear the air, and level with everyone.
Okay, so me being introverted probably doesn't come as a surprise to anyone, but believe it or not, I've often struggled with the concept. For starters, I do very much enjoy social interaction, and in the right setting, I can be a pretty talkative guy. I don't find it hard to discuss pretty much anything, I can be ridiculously candid, and I've been known to confront people and situations with little or no hesitation. All of that seems to be contrary to what an introvert is. I mean, yeah, it's nice to have time to yourself now and then, but I don't even like living alone. I crave social activity... I'm just not that good at it.
How perplexing.

Then, a while ago, I saw this, and it all came together. I know, that's silly, to have someone else explain yourself to you. Is that silly, or is that counselling?
Anyway, there it is; While people around me seem to thrive off of socialization, here I am slowly losing steam... Sure, I get a lot out of being around people, I'm definitely glad for the bonds formed and the memories made, but there's a toll for me that isn't there for everyone. I think I'm starting to get why, too. For most people, interaction is second nature; they're just living in the moment and usually having a good time of it. But me, I'm up in my head the whole time, taking in every word, every gesture, every fucking photon. To be honest, this modus operandi does award me some advantages. Being perceptive and empathetic are both great qualities to have, and I've had many occasions to be thankful for them, but juggling all of that data while trying to maintain any sort of conversation is... vastly challenging. Everyone else is just chilling, and I'm playing Brain Chess... maybe Brain Mushihimesama Futari, depending on whether I'm talking to a girl or not.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't as enlightening for anyone else as it was for me. I know I'm not the only neurotic person around, and my struggles aren't unique... don't worry, that was just the buildup. Now we drop the bass.

So one of the biggest problems I've encountered in recent years that I never thought would happen to someone as awesome as me, is that I've become a drifter. I'm loath to say this, and I'm pretty sure I've only talked about it to one special lady before, but hanging out within a circle of friends (and I have many circles) is always a discouraging experience for me; Everyone in the group seems to have much stronger ties, and much deeper relationships with one another than I do with any of them, and I feel like I'll never get there. I know (and it's been said to me) that it's ridiculous to avoid a group of friends because they're all closer with each other than they are with you. After all, how do you expect to get closer if you're too discouraged to even hang out?
Yeah, I know it's dumb, but there it is. It's just one of those feelings... like knowing that your best friend has a best friend, and it's not you. Not that big a deal, everyone's got their own lives, rich with old friends and memories, and those friendships shouldn't affect your friendship. In truth, they don't. It's just one of those things that's a little uncomfortable to think about.
So back to being a drifter... It used to be that I'd move away, or change jobs, and I'd look back and hope so hard that I wouldn't lose contact with the good friends I'd made. Now, I feel like I rarely even make those close friendships to begin with. I have so many friends in convenient proximity whom I may not see for months. I can't even remember the last time I spent two days in a row hanging out with someone I didn't either live with or sleep with. I like to think I'm a nice, rather personable guy, but somehow everyone I keep around, I keep at an arm's length. I know a part of it is just life. The daily grind. The fact that I'm a night person who works mornings and gets home everyday, fucking wiped. The fact that my metabolism and my income, in tandem, keep me pretty busy... busy eating at home. But being socially fatigued takes a front seat on this one, and there's no denying it. I can say I'm too busy to see people, but at the same time, I just spent a whole day off watching How I Met Your Mother on Netflix.
It's not that I don't care, and I really hope that everyone knows that, because I feel like from the outside it looks like I'm just stumbling in and out of the lives of others, just staying long enough to say "hi" and then sauntering out the door again. In truth, it's a tenuous balance, and I can't stress that enough. I'm blessed with a plentitude of incredible friends, and while it's a shame I can't spend more time with everyone, I've gotta bring home that bacon... and daddy needs his bacon!

Alright, I'm gonna end it off with a rad song, because I said "Balance" earlier, and now the only thing I can think about is a song of the same name. Here you go everybody, some Future Islands!

I highly recommend you all check out the whole album, On The Water, if you haven't already.

Thursday, December 6, 2012


Once again, after an extended and unplanned hiatus, I'm back and posting again. I've noticed that only two blogs on my list have even been active in the past year, so I guess I don't feel so bad for slacking... if I can even call it that. The truth of the matter is that sitting down and writing this blog is a true pleasure for me. It's something I enjoy, and like to think I do quite well. In the past while I got my writing kicks from posting little quips on Facebook, but the status bar was really not designed for extended monologuing, and I've had a lot of things on my mind.

Today, I'd like to talk about the difficulties of changing.

Now, as I'm sure I've mentioned in previous posts, I am a staunch advocate of personal growth and improvement. I've spent the past couple years really looking at myself and trying to make better what I see. I'd like to think I've been quite successful in that regard; I'm happily single for the first time in my life (and not just kidding myself this time), I've made leaps and bounds with regards to my social anxiety, and I've crossed a lot of thresholds in my personal life, that I was never quite sure I could.

That said, I still do have some things to work out. I still have a metabolism that stunts my ability to have a normal social life, and there's really no end in sight where that's concerned. I've been told I don't have hyperthyroidism, but I have a friend who was told the same thing, and we're both displaying numerous symptoms, not just the increase in appetite. I'm considering a naturopath, or maybe just a second opinion would do.

Beyond that, there's another big problem that I've got to come to terms with. It's something that's put me in the not-so-good graces of my current, and previous employer. Now, let me start at the beginning. In 2003, my graduating year, it occurred to Mrs. Smith, the best teacher at my high school, that I was an extremely slow reader. I mentioned how late I was up every night working on homework (usually 2-3am) and we got some tests underway. I was given special leniency when it came to the English provincials, and that was the last I thought of it for many years. Now, I've been considered a pretty slow worker at just about every job I've had; I was let go after a week of dishwashing, I was never called back after a week of labour working for my Dad, and everywhere else, I've just gotten a lot of harassment about my pace. Now, a lot of that, I think, can be chalked up to low energy levels... which has just become a norm for my life. I've had people admit before that they assumed I was perpetually stoned because I'm so chill. Lack of sleep can account for a lot of it, but I think that the lion's share is the result of my day to day lifestyle. I need to push myself to be active if I ever want to be consistently energetic.

But it's more that just the energy thing... at my last job, I was a cashier, and I would always be hounded for processing sales too slowly. However, when it came to the end of the night? Perfect cash-out. Almost without fail. So what's the problem here? I sacrifice speed for accuracy. Do you want the job done fast, or do you want it done right? I've never had the slightest success while rushing a job, and if I can stay within my limits, not only will the finished product be superb, but I will not have stressed, at all. But we all know the world doesn't work like that. Nobody wants to pay you overtime, and no one can risk the liability of allowing you to work off the clock (even if you are okay working for nothing). About a year ago, my old boss called me up to the office and informed me that a customer complaint had been filed against me. I had failed to ask some lady how her day was, and I then had the nerve to neglect to offer her a shopping bag for her things. I was suspended from work for a week. I then came back to 10 hour workweeks, down from 35. I began looking for work, all the while trying to make things work with the job I had... I was a little shocked. What an overreaction! Things continued like this for about a month, when my employer finally figured he couldn't dodge severance with me (a common strategy for the Rootcellar... don't let anyone tell you that a ma' & pa' business will be a better job than a corporate one) and finally gave me the axe. What was I to make of this? For the first while, I was fully content to believe their batshit crazy reason for firing me... poor customer service. Sure.

But now that I'm running into problems at my current job, it's starting to make a lot more sense. My old boss was looking for an excuse to fire his slowest employee.

Here's how the story goes from his perspective: Hiring a new cashier, at about a dollar above starting pay, because as a recent manager, he's clearly overqualified. New cashier picks up the duties and price codes reasonably quickly, so all is well... but after about two years, the cash manager finally gives him his 6 month review (lol) and all of a sudden, everyone notices that he's still working at the same pace as a newbie. This isn't good, get the managers to talk to him about it. That'll work. Okay, we've had a lot of cashier turnover now, and this guy actually has considerable seniority... and we need more supervisors. Maybe if we give him limited authority and hint that a cushier position is available, he'll be motivated to work at it... ah, this isn't working, let's demote him. This is a lost cause... if only I had some excuse to cut his hours and make him quit... what's this? Customer complaint? Bingo!

So there you go... still a little crooked, but truth be told, I'm a problem worker, and a significant part of the problem is my meticulous nature. I work in produce now, and that's an even bigger problem... whenever a display looks bad, or some product is going off, I'm compelled to deal with it. If it's a couple of ratty looking bunches of spinach, I've just gotta go to the back and sort them into better looking bunches. And I don't feel like I'm being unreasonable here... we don't have the freshest produce around. I've definitely had people ask where a product is, only to point it out, do a double take, and then tell them they can have it for half price, if they really want it, otherwise, I'm just going to throw it out, because it's practically compost. I feel like I'm the only person there that takes pride in the quality of the things we sell, but I have my boss and the other produce staff telling me not to be so particular, and to just get the stuff out as fast as possible. I was complaining to a friend about this the other day, saying I'm too OCD to do things as quickly and poorly as is expected of me, and she said I should just be less OCD about it... at which point I thought "Well, if I could be less OCD, then it wouldn't be OCD, would it?"

...and that's when it hit me: People say OCD these days like it isn't even a thing... but it's a real mental disorder... and what if I'm actually diagnosable? You hear about extreme cases, and I don't think I really fit the bill for some of the repetitive action symptoms, but just look at this situation. I can't bring myself to half ass it at work. It takes so much willpower for me to even get through a section without checking every little thing for spoilage, and when I do just go nuts and pull the skin off of every onion, I find a dozen bad ones, and that just reinforces the idea that the way I'm doing it is the right way...
I don't know now... is it that I actually have a disorder, or is it that I'm just so fucking stubborn? Because I feel like that plays a part, too. At this job and my last I justified my sluggish pace with the refrain "I get results!" and became so rigid in the belief that my weakness was a strength. When it comes right down to it, I'm proud of how precise I am in my actions, and I don't want to change something I'm proud of. I feel like I could change if I wanted to.
If I wanted to.

On a side note, it has come to my attention that a friend of a friend of mine knows me as "the guy with that hilarious blog"... now, I don't know if I should take that as a success or a failure. I mean, I'm flattered that someone enjoys the things I write, but at the same time, it sounds like that's all I've got going for me. Maybe I should get out more.