Ok, this has been something that I have been hesitant to talk about for a while because it may cause others to think that I am a) an idiot or b) insane, but considering that the other topics of my entries have been melodramatic I’m going to die sad and alone bullshit, candle wax and going to mass with a Muslim / melodramatic I’m going to die sad and alone bullshit how much more damage could I do to my nonexistent respectability?
So here is the thing, circles are slowly driving me insane. It all started two weeks ago when I was staring at the table in Cosmos Coffee and realized that it was a circle, and then suddenly came to the realization that that meant if I want to find it’s circumference or area I would use a formula that involved π, and we all know that πan infinite none repeating decimal, what means that any numerical answer that I present using it is would be to a certain extent, inaccurate. This wouldn’t have been a dilemma if it weren’t for the scope of the issue; circles (and other things that require the use of the number π when being dealt with) are everywhere! And I can’t find an accurate numerical value of any of them! I’m I forever to be in the dark as to how big a circle, sphere, cylindered, semi-circle, rotation of a curve around an axis of your choice in the R^2 actually is? Is there no end to the madness?
Circles man, circles, be careful, they’re sneaky little bastards.
Ok, I’m done now.

Ok, I just got back from what is probably one of the weirdest events that has happened to me in recent times. Edgar got me to go to mass with him again (round two), apparently it was bring a friend night or something, but I wasn’t the only person he decided to bring along, for some reason he talked Yusaf into it as well. So here we are, walking to St. August’s, a Catholic, an Atheist, and a Muslim. Considering the odd company, Yusaf and I began to worry that this might be some sort of Catholic conspiracy to kill of all the non-believers and that as soon as we walked in there the doors would be locked and we would get gassed. This discussion somehow branched into a debate about what orifice we would prefer to get “the pear” in (you really don’t want to know, it is a torture device that came out of the inquisition).
When we arrived, a large group of deranged Catholics did not actually leap up to kill us. I actually toughed the holey water this time, and I it didn’t burn me, so far so good. Every thing went smoothly (I didn’t swear this time) except for a small skirmish with the old lady who sat next to me. I didn’t go up to take communion, since I can’t, and realizing this she tried to get me to go up and get blessed instead. I told her that I couldn’t and she persisted, showing me how to cross my arms to indicate that I wasn’t supposed to take communion. I shook my head and told her again that I couldn’t, and finally she gave up and walked away looking confused. I had a slight change of heart later on and wished that I had, after all, what the hell, if the holey water didn’t hurt me that why would that have? Maybe next time, I’m probably going to go again some time, I’ve almost got the moves down.
The topic of the sermon was kind of creepy in a prophetic/coincidental type of way. A bunch of stuff about the trinity’s embodiment being represented through the love that is given in marriage, I, naturally, disagree with this statement, because a) I don’t believe in a trinity and b) I don’t believe, in a semantic sense, in marriage. The theme isn’t the thing that got to me, but the actual content. The priest, kept on this rant about love should not be given for a night, for a year, only when convenient (I inferred that I should assume that the words love and fuck and semi-interchangeable in this statement, or so I assume form the fire explosion analogy). Frankly I think that it’s all bullshit, I enjoy sex to much to wait to love someone, something that I don’t think is ever going to happen anyway, but it still stirred up this strange panky sort of feeling that I get in my stomach some times when this type of subject. I realized that I’ve argued myself into a corner. Despite what I tell myself, despite my reason and despite the fact that it is impossible for me to find someone who would be able to tolerate me (I’ve kind of just chosen to accept that I’m really not a likeable person), I (really)3 want that, or at least I think I do. Someone who is dedicated to me would be great, but I just would feel so weak and complacent. How could I feel unique if I were to just do what every one else on does? But still I go to sleep most nights comforted by the imaginary person by my side, knowing well how baseless and lacking in truth this fantasy is. I think for know I’ll just stick with my old opinion: I don’t believe that love is possible for me, but I would like to be proven wrong.

So my old candle warmer exploded leaving me in a state of devastation as I realized that I would now be denied one of the greatest small pleasures that I am permitted on a regular bases, playing with melted candle wax. The problem was easily remedied by going to buy a new one but being lazy and incapable of organizing my time I was incapable of doing so for a matter weeks.
I have now attained one however and am traveling to new heights of candle wax induced delouse happiness, and my room smells like apples….mmmmmmmmmmm.

So I was board and got quiz happy, I learned so much about myself (not really).

I’ve come to a point recently were I’ve just chosen to accept it, I’ve chosen to accept the fact that no matte how hard I try I am never going to find someone who loves me and who I love in return. It is impossible do to definition, I could never compromise myself or my goals to accommodate another person, and unfortunately I could never respect someone who would be wiling to do so for me, and I can’t love someone I don’t respect. Since no relationship is able to survive without an ongoing series of compromises, and also since equality is impossible in a relationship, I will never have one that goes beyond lust, it is impossible.
Accepting that I am undeniably going to die alone was difficult at first, but as time has gone on, I find the idea to be quite liberating. I will never have to worried about whether or not my actions hurt others, as I know that no one will ever care enough about me to be hurt by me. I don’t have to concerned with being imprisoned by another person, something that has happened in every relationship that I have ever been witness too. I will never know dependence, I will never know loss. Fuck the idea of finding freedom in slavery; the only way to find it is in isolation.