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Sunday, Feb. 26, 2006 / 10:54 p.m. ~In the Long Run, It's Not a Good Time~ Oddly enough, I would really like to retract it all, the last two weeks at least. I would never say I am filled with regret, but I don't like that I went against all I've worked so hard to attain, namely emotional stability and coldness. I need to be cold, unfeeling, I need not to be attracted to strange men I meet in clubs, and I especially do not need to spend the night with them, nor do I need to flirt with men on MySpace. I know what I know, what I've known, I am supposed to be alone. It feels right. It feels natural, this is how it should be, should, will, I know this. Any deviation is out of desire and weakness. There is no match, there is no one, and for me to lose sight, to suddenly succumb to some dreamy girlishness, at my age, is insanity at best. Ridiculous at the least. It's not hard to get a man into bed, and it's not hard to take advantage of one either, but to find love is nearly impossible, and to find trust and compassion, these things seldom happen in earnest. And to force it, or to forget that it's more desirable than a one-night stand, is not only losing all self-respect, it's some form of self-hatred. If I'm good at this, I should go into it for the money, for at least then I'd have something concrete for my efforts, a way to earn my living, pay my bills, move out of this fucking barrio. Two days to give notice, again, and I know I'll stay. My karma is fucked all to hell, this much is certain - nothing gets better, it just keeps getting worse and worse. It's comical at this point. But, I want to go backwards, this much I know, and in lieu, recognizing the futility of such a desire, I resolve to learn from this, as all life's major fuckups are excellent lessons to be learned. It felt good, it was fun, but in the long run, it's not either. None of it. Cost of the War in Iraq
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