I went to the infamous Comiket in Tokyo, Japan today.

For those of you unfamiliar with Comiket, it has two main attractions. The first one is doujinshi, which are comics produced by non-professionals. Non-professionals as in they're not famous enough to make a living off their art quite yet. Some of the doujinshi are original works, while others are more like fan comics. Some of them are pornographic in nature, with yaoi (homosexual love stories).

The other main attraction for Comiket are the cosplayers. These are a group of people that enjoy dressing up in their favorite anime, manga, or video game characters. As with all things, the quality of the cosplayers varies a lot. Some of them are very cute, while others are not.

Comiket is the biggest event of its kind in Japan. America doesn't really have anything like Comiket quite yet, but they have anime conventions instead. Having been to both, I would definitely say I find the American variant more entertaining. Comiket offers little besides shopping and people-watching.

I had wanted to take lots of pictures of the cute cosplayers but then realized I didn't have enough film for all of them. So then I thought about taking only pictures of selective ones, but realized that my picture choice would be evidence to the sick and twisted pervert that I am. I decide that perhaps picture taking isn't such a good idea.

I consider myself pretty hardcore when it comes to this fanboy kinda stuff...and even then I was surprised at a couple of things. The booth that was playing hardcore anime porn in the middle of the dealer's room was a bit surprising. The number of skimpy costumes were too (as in way more than I expected). Oh, and I had been told that there was an admission charge, and entrance turned out to be free.

A couple of quick notes...The most popular costume sets were Digi Charat, Final Fantasy X, and Guilty Gear X. Rabi~en~Rose was probably the most cosplayed female character there. There were a lot of crossplayers as well. Scariest crossplayer goes out to the guy who did a male Kris Christopher from Battle Athletes. And the coolest groups would have to go out to the girls who did the Dragon Warrior medley group and the girls who did the Suikoden group. Though I don't understand why they needed so many Templetons.

I am trying to get my life straightened out one thing at a time. I have come a long way, but I still have so far to go.

I think I hit rock bottom about 2 years ago. I was unemployed, smoking 2 packs a day, had no form of transportation, my weight hit it all time high of 250 lbs, my gas was shut off, and I was drinking every day. Not to mention the fact that I was habitually single, depressed, and was suffering from insomnia. My credit was already righteously in the toilet by then, (and I couldn't get a bank account anywhere).

Well 2 years later, I can say that a lot of things have changed. But I am still not where I need to be. I have had the same job for a year now, (I haven't missed a day yet). I rarely drink anymore. I am down to a more respectable 220 lbs. None of my bills are behind, and I have a car. I have cut my smoking down some, (but I still need to quit). I am single, but it is by choice this time. I left the girl I was seeing because I knew she wasn't the one, I was just wasting her time and mine by seeing her. I don't need some random girl hanging around to make me feel good about myself anymore.

But I have so much more to accomplish.

The job I am in is a dead end one. I have already hit the meager salary cap of $9.50 per hour. There is no reason for me to stay there anymore. I can barely afford to eat sometimes as it is. My 24th birthday is only a few days away, but I still have no idea what I want to do with my life. I also have no clue as to what kind of job I could get that pays more than the one I have now, (I don't have a lot of experience with job searching).

I need to buy new clothes. I haven't bought any new clothes in years, (except for khaki pants for work). My wardrobe has degraded to 16 pairs of khakis and a bunch of old shirts. I am not even going to get started on the fact that I only own 2 pairs of shoes, (both of them paint stained).

I need to get in a relationship with someone that I am actually interested in. I have this long history of basically making myself like whatever women like me, (because I don't think that I can get anybody else). The only girl that I have dated in the last 4 years that I was truly interested in was Katie, you can read her story in This Diamond Ring.

I don't own anything but toys! I have lots of computers, a Mame Cabinet, 2 arcade games, a motorcycle, my convertible, and a few scarce pieces of 25 year old furniture. But I don't own any of those normal household items that I should have by the time I am this age. Eventually my two roommates are going to get married to each other. Then I will have to find an apartment of my own. I don't even own a couch, or a television, or a microwave of my own. Not to mention things like dishes. I am going to be in a heap of trouble someday, if I don't start aquiring some of these things now.

I would like to get my weight down to about 200 lbs even. I also really need to stop smoking.

So many things for me to do. One at a time.

So now basically my life sucks.

Maybe I did a bad job. But I always tried to make her happy and do the right thing by her. Whenever we argued, she would use insults and call me names and tell me to fuck off. I tried to never retaliate with personal attacks against her. I could have tried insulting her back, but I kept my upsets focused on her tendency to always have arguments and that I didn't like how she would get belligerent. I never once ever tried to make a personal attack against her. Maybe she got more insulted when I'd complain that she caused an argument, and that I was bothered by herinstability and how it would make her periodically grumpy and complicate things whenever I tried to show her a good time. Maybe she hated how I'd get grumpy too in response to that. But I never told her to fuck off, or go jump off a bridge, or anything. I kept trying to fix things instead, trying as best I could (which wasn't usually good enough) to cope with her mood swings and look for a way through them. I never wanted to hurt her back when she hurt me because I cared so much for her feelings and didn't want her to ever feel bad because of me.

During sex, I always made her pleasure the top priority. I didn't need to seek my own physical pleasure, because the mental pleasure that I derived from her being with me was already my ultimate high.

It's just whenever she needed time, she expected me to just give her time and space absolutely, entirely on her terms, with no concern whatsoever for what it did to me always filling me with fear and uncertainty about our relationship. I think I once managed 5 months of that without bothering her too much. But it was the hardest 5 months of my entire life.

And when I got her back, I guess I suffocated her with my joy and anxiousness to recover from those 5 months. And in my excitement, I always tried too much in the wrong way to establish whatever lacking connection had caused that 5 month split. She felt I didn't listen and I didn't really know enough about her, and that I didn't have enough depth. So what did I do? I always asked her what she was thinking. Always asked her about herself. But I didn't know yet what the right things to ask were. She must have taken that as proof that we didn't connect, and then when she'd say nothing in response to my questions and I tried to foster discussion she'd interpret that as me blurting in with my own stories and not having an interest in hers. I couldn't communicate anything to her.

And perhaps that's why she never really loved me. She never felt she could communicate with me. I think she was attracted to me enough to wish once that she could communicate with me. I think maybe she's decided that it's failed too many times, and that indicates to her it'll never happen.

Or maybe she didn't love me because she never found a passionate roller coaster ride sort of feeling in our relationship. But that was because I respected her and didn't want to presume I could just take her now and then without first ensuring I had her consent. Because I knew she didn't feel right with me, and I wanted to fix that first. It was just because I cared too much and didn't want to take advantage of her, not that I couldn't show passion.

And so I sit here wishing I knew how to communicate with her. And wishing that she could remember her initial desire to do so, because everything leading up until the communication intrigued her. There was an amount of superficial chemistry, but she just never found what she wanted below.

And now I sit here as a fuck up because I missed my chance with perhaps the most wonderful person I'll ever know. I did hear her. I loved what I heard. I just didn't know what to say in return. And now she's given up on me. Any attempts to try honestly to understand what went wrong and how I need to improve are gone along with all hope of being able to try again.

She said that if I kept asking for her to try, or kept trying to understand, or kept expressing hopes of figuring her out that she'd interpret that as a selfish attempt just to satiate myself with no regard or concern for her well being. And I don't like that it seems true, because how can she trust from my past failures that I had good intentions but am just not emotionally developed enough to do so properly without more nurturing than she ever offered me?

It pains me that she flitters through life seeking out what I hoped to have with her, always being disappointed because nothing ever just magically works out right away. She finds the emotional connection, but not the physical. Or she gets desperate enough to stomach a lack of the physical with someone hoping to find enough of the emotional to offset that, only getting disappointed in the end.

I just wish she'd think back to when she cared about me, and reflect on how good I was for her physically and materially. And I wish she'd realize that I'm not emotionally wrong for her, but rather I'm just a blank slate who doesn't know how to fill myself in with what she wants. But that I do recognize what I want to be, and it's what she wishes I was. And I don't know how to get there. And now I can't try. Now she has no respect for me and hates me. And threatens to devastate me further than I already am if I ever express any desire to her for more help.

I don't want to wait a year or something for her to HYPOTHETICALLY give me another chance out of desperation in her own life, only to have me fail again so miserably. I wish she'd compromise and keep me at a distance, but not totally away, to let me: 1) make things up to her however she feels is best for bothering her recently, and 2) slowly and patiently see if she can't teach me whatever it was I was always missing. In the meantime, I wallow. Praying for her to reconsider and give me a very small, carefully controlled chance.

I mean: Yes! I don't understand you! That doesn't mean I never can, though. That doesn't mean I'm incapable of it. I'd be a great guy for you if I ever did, though. I just wish I could try with the proper help.



"so... how's the weather down there?"


Is it dead yet, darling?

Our relationship has been grasping, clutching, clawing for air for months now. I never thought I was going to say this, but maybe it would be best to go ahead and kill it.

It started imperceptively... who knows, maybe it started from the moment we met. I compulsively hide from people, and so do you. We neither of us got the point of trust where we could share everything with each other, but we believed we'd shared enough to breathe with.

It just kept getting pared down. There was a word I couldn't say to you, then there was a word you couldn't say to me. With every new word and every new rule, we tightened the noose.

Then I told you to stop apologizing to me. Upon reflection, I'm not sure I should have done that.

You trained me to stop asking you how you were doing. Since that is how I typically open any conversation... unable, in my peculiar way, to talk to anyone without knowing what mental state they are in beforehand... I was left bereft of an ice-breaker. Speechless.

Now our conversations are a mockery. I hang in a stupor, muzzled, corked, absolutely unable to say a word that will reach you unsheathed by the clingy gauze of hurt between us. The words gather in my chest and press painfully against my breastbone. And you... you... I no longer know what it is like for you. Our relationship is heavy, unconscious, unmovable. I don't know how it gets any air at all.

Maybe it's time to kill it. I was never one for letting things die slowly and in pain.

It bothers me that this conversation will never take place between us. I should have told you this while there was still enough life left to take action.

My heart is screaming and screaming...

Have been awake for days
Seening everything in shades of grays
Let it burn mother fucker
I am ready for the plucker
The grim reaper is here to stay
That fig plucker's son
"My little girl, drive anywhere, do you want, I don't care..." Depeche Mode

I sit here Sunday morning, drinking coffee (with chocolate soy milk..yummy) and smoking State Express 555, my favorite imported cigarettes. After reading the other daylogs sharing todays space, I don't feel so bad about my phucked up love life..seems everyone else is doing just as miserably.

As I glide closer to level three, I take a long look at my writeup list...not many nodes there besides these logs. In a way, I feel kinda bad, but in another, not really. There's plenty in my personal collection I can node, and do plan to, the time hasn't been right yet, and I want to add some content that's worthwhile. The daylogs are a serperate beast for me..as far as I'm concerned, I don't think they should even count torwards level climbing, but I'm only a squid, what do I know? I do appreciate the feedback I've gotten, and I suppose they've been perfect practice for the noding I plan to do. So thank you, E2, for providing this wonderful place for me to keep track of this cumbersome thing we call daily existance.

So, to this weekend. Not much going on, been stuck in the apato, working on a new webpage. Just a point and click jobber off of geocities, we still have some quirks to iron out before we can host off our linux server we have set up here. I've been making plans to start studying for my first Lotus Notes certificate; I'd like to take the test by March if possible. Tired of making this chump change. I got my first real paycheck friday, a measely 700 dollars after taxes for 92 hours of labor. Granted, it's art labor, but still..I can do alot better. Trying to convince Randy to start taking database design projects on the side, so we can get some extra income, and I can have something to learn Lotus by doing it (the only way I can learn). So, we'll see. His thai girlfriend is here this weekend, Yusa. She flies back to Iman, Jordan, tonight. They've been locked in bedroom, giving my shy looks whenever they venture out to the living room (where I usually dwell in my corner of technological solitude, industrial music pumping 15 hours a day...) I'm turning into what I usually detest as an empathic artist type - the techie shut-in, drinking soda, coffee, chainsmoking and contemplating Buddhist philosophy to the sweet strains of stripped down german industrial music...the color of my clothes shifting to neutral greys and blacks, my deep florida tan fading as I slowly forget the heat of the sun and my heart going cold as I slowly lose the memory of flashingeyes and sultry sighs of my girls I left there...

I build this fragile shell around me, wondering what will emerge...

I took my children to the Ohio State Fair today. It was hot but not so much, and the fabulous smells were everywhere. I felt like one of those cartoons when a scent wave floats by, my nose twitched until I was airborne, floating on that wave of delicious right to an elephant ear, fried up, coated with cinnamon and butter and powdered sugar.

I went down the big bumpy slide with Katie and we squealed the whole way, flying smoothly down the track of slick childhood memories, faster and faster for three stories. We would glide our potato sacks right to the bottom and wish like hell the ride was not already over. The best part of that was watching my husband pretend he did not want to go. Katie took him by the hand, “Come ON Papa, this is so fun!”, and soon enough they had climbed the million steps and his smiley face and delighted laugh rolled out, and when they got to the bottom his eyes were all wet.

I watched Katie gripping the pole on the carrousel, kind of nervous when the horse started forward and up and down, then ear to ear smiling, her hair blowing back and her face beamed like I have never seen before. We went on that thing four times, around and around, and it never got old. When it was Jay’s turn to stand with her I waited on the side, watching for Katie’s face to come back around, like the sun coming up a hundred happy times in a row. Every time, every single time, I would wave like a maniac, heart swelled up and eyes all weepy. I think I was watching the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Nails Broken: 1
Loogies Hocked: 1
Earnest Volunteers (not including myself): 5
Wayward Shoppers: 3
Diet Cokes Imbibed: 2
Average Warehouse Temperature: 85 degress Fahrenheit

Another day at the warehouse. Three people were convinced that we were open today. I was convinced that the men's shoes needed to be organized, the vault needed to be cleansed of personal items, the registers needed to be cleaned and checked, the purses needed to be hung on displays, as did the scarves, the kids' clothes needed to be hung up, and the mens' pants needed to be organized by size. Oh yes, and let's not forget the signs.

PC words bother me. The latest one is signage. This is dumb-talk for the signs needed for a specific purpose. It's like closure, although I always felt bad about not liking that one because my favorite teacher used it a lot. You can stick your signage . . . over there, away from me.

Being in the warehouse did bring slight relief from my head cold. I muddled about outside wondering how the hell I was going to clean this up, make it secure, and pull this off. Running around, moving messes from point A to point B really sweated out the congestion. This week we have two TV show appearances and a need for speed, in pill form. I'll be at work Tuesday until 10 PM. The tent arrives Friday, when my head of security will come check out our set up. The toilets should show up some time around then and the drinks from Coke should arrive Wednesday.

This might be the single w/u without discussion of relationships with the opposite sex -- whoops . . .

Wow, I saw some motels that weren't fit for animals to live in today, much less humans. As I walk into this place, I see several guys lounging around outside, shirtless and smoking pot. The 300 year old lady behind the counter hands me a key to go check out the room. When I step into the elevator, the first thing I see is a big pile of cigarette butts floating in a puddle of urine. I try not to vomit and finally found my room. All over the corridors I can see big brown marks that smell as if they might be glops of feces. When I get to my room - the smashed in parts of my door freak me out a little, but that's nothing compared to the fungus growing in my bathroom. I quickly get out of there as fast as possible because. You couldn't pay me to live there, much less $150/week. On the way down I ran into several large garbage bins and nearly pass out from the noxious fumes coming out of them. Oh. My. God.

The next place looked better from the outside - also there was a door that can only be opened by the guy behind the counter to get in. The carpet looks very worn and dirty, but at least it doesn't smell too bad. My room is the only room of the 5 surrounding rooms that has a window. No air conditioning, no TV, no phone, and no bathroom. I have to share a bathroom with 10 other people. That's OK - I don't really need to use it that much.

Then, I notice that my bathroom door doesn't close - much less lock. The ill fitted door is just too big for the door frame. The bathroom also doesn't have a shower - just a tub. At least there's a bathroom down the hall that locks and has a shower. I left long black strands of hair all over it, but I don't exactly see anywhere else to put them... no trash can.

Later on, I was taking a dump when someone knocked on the door. Of course I had my foot and hand on the door so that it would stay mostly shut. What was i supposed to say in response to the knock? "Who's there??" Anyway, I mumbled something and i guess they must not have understood me because they pushed the door but it might have only opened a sliver before they realized someone was inside using the toilet. They apologized and left. But it disturbed my already constipated poo!!

Anyway, there's a dead cockroach or two in the bathroom and skid marks on the toilet seat. I try and put a sheet of toilet paper on the toilet before I have to use it.

All the skanky women standing outside scare me too.

This whole place is very 1930s. I feel as if I've taken a trip back in time. Only two more weeks...

I think I'm already starting to go a little nutty.

When was the last time she smiled in a gas station? I can't even remember seeing her, but I know she was there. It was still raining, but I was wearing no shoes because I liked the freedom. What a sudden thing to happen, blond hair falling, techno on the stereo, midnight now. And who enjoyed our sexual tension? I leave town tomorrow for a whole new thing, don't let that scare you tonight.

I see you, lightning observed.

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