I really hope I haven't worried anyone; I know when someone disappears on the internet I have a tendency to think the worst. I'm still dealing with my depression, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. I've been through the ups and downs of my strange chemistry. But I guess there's still a glimmer of hope for the future.

I have missed this site, and will be coming back! I'm still in need of your great support:).

Oh, and the most exciting thing happened today. My best friend Rose just told me she was in love. With a GIRL! *does happy dance* It's not me, but who cares; I'm happy she told me. Who she likes is very cute, anyways.

~Sam

People may think living is simple, but it is so complicated (at least for me). Life is a habit, and I've forgotten the steps. I'm still not back in school, because whenever I think of school, do homework, or go on campus I hurt myself. It sickened me when I did it (nail clippers), I felt like I had dirtied myself with a weakness I couldn't get rid of. The school councilor made me sign a contract that if I thought about hurting myself I would tell someone first, and to never do it again. So far it's worked, even though I really want to do it at times. But when I make a promise, it's really hard for me to break it.

The scars are almost gone. I look at them to remind myself not to do it again, how ugly it is. No wonder, I'm a masochist. My sister the other day asked me, "How would you torture someone?" I didn't know, and she said, "You're the type of person more likely to torture yourself." She's amazingly perceptive, and she's only fourteen. Well, almost fifteen now. God, she's getting old.

Anyway, I do feel like I'm slowly getting better; for a while I was really depressed as I withdrew off my last medication, but now I'm pretty much fully onto the new one. Having a good psychiatrist is pretty awesome. My last one was psychotic.

I haven't been doing much, not seeing people much. Every day I go on the net, watch movies, write, read, listen to music; relax. I haven't relaxed in over six years, and I'm not kidding. Every summer it's off to England! Months of misery at the hands of my father and his egotistical girlfriend. I honestly don't consider him family anymore, he's just something I have to deal with. And that's incredibly sad, but it's healthy-when I tried to initiate a relationship with him I fell down deep into despair when I realized my father was not capable of being a father. You cannot choose your parents, but you can learn ways to cope with them.

It's not fair I have to go through this; last time I did I went to school, and I don't want to go through that ever again, because that was the worst time of my life. I don't even like to think about it. I would much rather stay home where no one can hurt me, and watch Miyazaki films.

I've been back to learning manga again. I try so hard, but I can't seem to get it right. Perspective is a bitch, man! Practise makes perfect, though *rolls eyes*. I've even been writing a graphic novel script, but that's a work in progress. For now I'm making sketches upon sketches of heads, arms, necks, everything I can think of. It's fun to finally ink it in and see the result.

Throughout all this, I've pretty much forgot that I'm gay, just like when you're straight you forget that you're straight. I check out women, but somehow I don't care as much. When I first came out I tried to empower myself, asserting myself, but now I present the world with a shrug. So what, I love women; I've got other things to worry about. I don't even want to label myself anymore, I'm done. I just want to be myself, and those who condemn me can do so somewhere else, because I have no time for people like that.

*sigh* I think my new avatar pretty much expresses my mood right now; tired, beaten, and trying to recuperate.

~Sam

When your parent works for a church, religion isn't a hobby or something you do on occasion-it is everywhere. Hell, it is work. And this is what my Christmas Eve usually consists of; waiting around the church campus while my mother works, running the Christmas pagent, working the after pagent party (the only good part is the cookies). I'm used to it by now, so it doesn't depress me as it used to. I just sat around the patio, listening to Momus' Stars Forever (buy this album, I command you!), dancing around and laughing at the ironic funny lyrics as children ran around in angel wings and shepard robes, beating eachother with their crooks.

The pagent was as cute as ever; the mistakes just make it more endearing. Joseph and Mary fought over the mike (we joked that they were having marital problems), one of the sheep ran randomly up the aisle back and forth from her mom to the stage. It always looks like it's going to fail at the dress rehersal but it always works out; the church always loves it.

Afterwards, some parishoners who helped with the pagent invited us over to a party, and we stayed for a couple hours. Mainly I just watched the kids run around with the cat, the boys right behind them. It made me think of when I was little, doing the exact same thing (except to torture the cat I put syrup on her. Don't ask me why). Christmas really is a childrens' holiday, which is why I guess it is so depressing when you get older.

For dinner my mom and I went for Thai food at our favourite place; I had duck noodle soup, which was awesome, and she had yellow curry. We mainly spent it listening to the guy next to us blabber away to his friend about his past relationships with guys and a bunch of other stuff. We're mean and couldn't help laughing at him because he was so pompous and annoying! It's fun to listen to other people's conversations.

I mainly got CD's for Christmas (which I picked out, because I like obscure indie pop/rock), but I felt bad for my mom-everyone gave her religious crap! She said she would prefer a sex toy when I asked her. The worst was this absolutely HIDEOUS cresh that was just...*barf*. I laughed at it for about twenty minutes.

Christmas day was spent cleaning the house (well, Mom did), and I just sat listening to more Momus while drinking coffee, which I found very enjoyable. Check out his site, it's great.

Later we went out to Old Town to see Pride and Prejudice, which was great (Kiera Knightly was gorgeous in it). I think the photography was some of the best I've ever seen, and the acting was superb. I recomend seeing it.

Today we went to the mall to get a Christmas present for my aunt, who's coming tonight from Pennsylvania, but it was so awful and crowded we couldn't find anything. Basically we spent an hour in traffic to get in. I felt like I was transported into Brave New World...*shudders*.

I finally got the second part of my story up: The Painter: Part II. Here you get to meet David, who's hillarious! He's never really had a real relationship before, only with a bunch of younger men whom he thought beautiful, but in the end their shallowness drove him crazy. But! I shall say no more!

Anyways, I guess I'll get back to writing it...my aunt should be here in an hour or so. I just have one word to say though:

Making beds sucks.

Adieu,

~Sam

Oh, and happy boxing day for those in the UK:)

The Painter: Part I

THE DAY THE GREEK BOY LEFT AND IN CAME ANOTHER

“If you would just let me handle the lighting, everything would be fine!

I feel let down by God. Yes, I do believe in God; I've been angry at God so many times that to not believe in God would mean I wouldn't be angry at anything. For the past year I've been happy with God, with life, as much of one as I have. But not now; God has given me a cross so big and so thick that I can't carry it. And yet I've carried it since I was born, because humans are adaptable. Why are we adaptable? Why don't we just collapse under the weight of our suffering and moan? Well, I've already done that, now I'm trying to hoist the bloody thing back up and continue down the road to my ultimate crucifixion. It's a sad thing to be going through lent on Christmas.

My life for the past six years has not been fair or just. I have clinical depression, and feel trapped by the rollecoster that is my hormone levels. Will I suddenly tank again into darkness? Too many times. I can't relate or trust people, because I've been hurt...so badly by my fellow humans. It makes me sick to think of it. My vision has labelled me legally blind. That is a burden in itself. My life is small and blurry.

And this may sound self-pitying, and this may sound egotistical, but I don't care anymore. I don't care what people think of me, I just want out of this hypocritical mind game called society. I want freedom, I want happiness, I want love, and all I keep getting back is the waste of bureaucratic shit. This must not make sense, but I don't care.

But I do care, I care that so many people suffer in the world, I care that my friend Rose is worried about me, I care that my mother is being screwed over by this shitty fucked up psychotic church, and I care that the world is so broken it is sickening to look at directly. Am I an optimist? Yes, or else it wouldn't hurt me so badly.

And I don't care that I'm gay anymore, so what? It's who I am, there is much bigger shit that I have to deal with. And I'm sorry I'm using shit every other word, but that's my mood.

And will melencholy thoughts take over me and turn my skin grey? I don't know, it never has. I've been through worse than this and come out of it, but not whole. Peices of myself lay in the jowls of monsters not worth mentioning.

But am I lonely? Yes, because I am different in so many ways and scared that people will ostrasize me for them. Will they? Some, not all. Does this matter? Not to my unconscious, which is so scarred it can't be found. Many wonder why there are school shootings; I'm ashamed to say I know why. If I make my pain visible will I die, and will they change and cry? A metal detector has no face, but a kind heart does.

Where am I going with this train of thought? Not to anywhere good. I am exponging the tyranny from my soul. I can't write, I don't know how to phrase things delicately in this story. I can, but it's lost within my dreams. Which is why I try to exhaust myself, but then I just get sleepy.

The world is sleepy, and so many people hide their heads in their pillows.

*sigh*

Anyways, I've created two new blogs, one of poetry the other of prose. I hope you enjoy them*meek smile*. My profile

Well, this certainly hasn't been an upbeat entry, but I feel better after venting. Anyways, merry Christmas everyone!

~Sam

Brain Lateralization Test Results

Right Brain |||||||||| 38%
Left Brain |||||||||||| 44%

Left brain dominant individuals are more orderly, literal, articulate, and to the point. They are good at understanding directions and anything that is explicit and logical. They can have trouble comprehending emotions and abstract concepts, they can feel lost when things are not clear, doubting anything that is not stated and proven.

Right brain dominant individuals are more visual and intuitive. They are better at summarizing multiple points, picking up on what's not said, visualizing things, and making things up. They can lack attention to detail, directness, organization, and the ability to explain their ideas verbally, leaving them unable to communicate effectively.

Overall you appear to have fairly Equal Hemispheres

Introverted (I) 71.43% Extroverted (E) 28.57%
Intuitive (N) 69.7% Sensing (S) 30.3%
Feeling (F) 61.76% Thinking (T) 38.24%
Judging (J) 53.33% Perceiving (P) 46.67%

INFJ

creative, smart, focus on fantasy more than reality, attracted to sad things, fears doing the wrong thing, observer, avoidant, fears drawing attention to self, anxious, cautious, somewhat easily frightened, easily offended, private, easily hurt, socially uncomfortable, emotionally moody, does not like to be looked at, fearful, perfectionist, can sabotage self, can be wounded at the core, values solitude, guarded, does not like crowds, organized, second guesses self, more likely to support marijuana legalization, focuses on peoples hidden motives, prone to crying, not competitive, prone to feelings of loneliness, not spontaneous, prone to sadness, longs for a stabilizing relationship, fears rejection in relationships, frequently worried, can feel victimized, prone to intimidation, lower energy, strict with self

favored careers:

psychotherapist, artist, art curator, bookstore owner, freelance writer, poet, teacher (art, drama, english), library assistant, professor of english, painter, novelist, book editor, copywriter, philosopher, environmentalist, bookseller, museum curator, opera singer, magazine editor, archivist, music therapist, screenwriter, film director, creative director, librarian, social services worker, art historian, sign language interpreter, photo journalist, makeup artist, photo journalist, homemaker

disfavored careers:

airline pilot, race car driver, businessman, information technology consultant, executive, administrator, supervisor, bartender, lab technician, restaurant owner, strategist, ceo, bar owner, marketing specialist, business consultant

However, this can also be me....

INFP

creative, smart, idealist, loner, attracted to sad things, disorganized, avoidant, can be overwhelmed by unpleasant feelings, prone to quitting, prone to feelings of loneliness, ambivalent of the rules, solitary, daydreams about people to maintain a sense of closeness, focus on fantasies, acts without planning, low self confidence, emotionally moody, can feel defective, prone to lateness, likes esoteric things, wounded at the core, feels shame, frequently losing things, prone to sadness, prone to dreaming about a rescuer, disorderly, observer, easily distracted, does not like crowds, can act without thinking, private, can feel uncomfortable around others, familiar with the darkside, hermit, more likely to support marijuana legalization, can sabotage self, likes the rain, sometimes can't control fearful thoughts, prone to crying, prone to regret, attracted to the counter culture, can be submissive, prone to feeling discouraged, frequently second guesses self, not punctual, not always prepared, can feel victimized, prone to confusion, prone to irresponsibility, can be pessimistic

favored careers:

poet, painter, freelance artist, musician, writer, art therapist, teacher (art, music, drama), songwriter, art historian, library assistant, composer, work in the perfoming arts, art curator, playwrite, bookseller, cartoonist, video editor, photographer, philosopher, record store owner, digital artist, cinematographer, costume designer, film producer, philosophy professor, librarian, music therapist, enviromentalist, movie director, activist, bookstore owner, filmmaker

disfavored careers:

business professional, manager, executive, administrator, business owner, supervisor, office manager, business analyst, financial analyst, public relations manager, ceo, executive assistant, judge, event coordinator, lawyer, office worker

Am I self-indulgent or what? (Well, and bored.) But that is pretty much me to a T.

~Sam

FROM THE JOURNALS OF ADRIAN MCCARTHY

It all started when I was twelve—no, younger than that even. My uncle whipped me with a belt when he first saw me in my mother’s silk evening clothes, made-up with my young inexperienced hands of ten, the skirts pooling around my feet like pink champagne. It was then they sent me to live in the attic of my father’s household, that old Victorian manor surrounded by the tenements of a big New England metropolis. But that enlightened sunshine never fell upon those dusty Persian rugs, the tarnished dinnerware, the threadbare tablecloths. Only when I came did I put pride into the domesticities of the house, my father being away at the bank. I would pretend to be the lady of the house when he was gone. The servants never said anything.

This journal will never be read.

My stepmother, Morgan, dragged me down to an analyst when she saw me dressed up in her makeup and eveningwear. I sat there, my eyes seemingly drawn to the floor by hidden magnets, hearing the ponderous voice of the man who would decide my fate. I was stripped of my exterior and called a homosexual...but I’ve never felt like one. I’ve never felt like a man before, at least, not while I’m loving a man. I sit by my attic window, looking down through the foggy atmosphere down below, where I imagine the man who will love me is coming, stealthily but valiantly, to come and take me away, like fair Rapunzel in her tower. But it was seldom I ever took the initiative....

They put me in the sanitarium that day; they shaved my head and put me away, somewhere in the mountains where the thin air would choke me. No more wigs of long amber locks, rouge, fox gloves, flowing gowns...I was a lunatic young man, not the maiden I wished to be. They told me I stayed there for a year, but I can’t be sure; I didn’t trust them. Hours passed by like days, and all that’s left now is a sense of eternal numbness half forgotten. I’ve never been strong, and...now I’ve gotten the page wet. Oh God, my heart is aching for him...David, the painter who’s imprinted my image so many times onto canvas I’ve become my own race. Oh, and in so many different guises...all my years of ladylike prowess were put into full force then.

This isn’t my life now, back in this prison under Mistress Morgan, carefully watched and drugged by analysts and exorcists and God knows what else—it’s with him, and him alone I am safe.

Safe, encased in his strong warm arms....

I haven't been sleeping well-my poor body is racked by the emotional winds of the people around me due to my depression. I'm normally VERY sensitive, but this is just extreme. The smallest things can make me cry. And so I've been having very strange dreams, and last night's was a killer.

I dreamed I was a boy in nineteenth century Germany who secretly cross-dresses in the attic where his awful stepmother has put him to live in, thinking him incapable. Now, he falls in love with a painter who lives on the other side of the city, so he dresses up as a woman to "woo" him and models for him. Then somehow the stepmother finds out this secret, and all Hell breaks loose on my poor boy.

Now if that isn't one weird awesome dream I don't know what is. It's inspired me so much I'm writing a story entirely based on it (I'm writing it as we speak...well, actually I'm taking a break, but anyways). The young boy's name is Adrian McCarthy, and the painter he loves is David something or other, I'll get a last name soon. I'm very excited about it, it's going to be cool.

I've also spent the last few days working on my new website showcasing all my writing (if you want to see this construction site, click here). I'm trying to make it better than my last one and more professional looking (it sucked), so hopefully it'll get to be at least functional, if not "spiffy," I dare say.

Today my sister left for Chile to visit my step-mom Lorena's family. I'm not remotely well enough to go, so I was stuck at home alone all day while my mom took her to LAX. Out of fear I stayed, since normally airports stress me out enough, thank you very much. I don't want to have a panick attack and stress everyone out more.

Tomorrow my mom's going to take me to Amoeba (the largest indie music store IN THE COUNTRY! I'm already preparing my list!). That'll be fun, I've been spending some two and a half weeks stuck at home feeling like dog shit.

I was also a real dork yesterday and submitted a question at belleandsebastian.com for their Q&A page, which they answer every day. I'm still waiting for a reply...*laughs*. Am I completely obsessed or what?

Anyways, I hope to post up the first part of my story tonight or tomorrow for ya'll to see. I hope you like it, and it isn't too weird for you*smiles cutely*. LOL

Adieu,

~Sam

I'm not sure what brought on this change; it could be my manic teenage hormones, or it could be one of the drugs I'm taking. Whatever the cause, I feel like a nymphomaniac.

The other day, my mother and I went to the Macy's laungerie section in search of braws and underwear. I walked casually through the arrays of lace panties and push ups, but then starting getting ancy, aroused...I WAS SURROUNDED BY PICTURES OF HALF NAKED WOMEN! My head was revolving, the attractions were everywhere; hot gorgeous models in nothing but Calvin Klein underwear, covering their luscious breasts with their hands!

The worst was when I got off by a maniquan. Now, that is just sad.

But it keeps on getting worse; the other night, while peacefully watching television, specifically Comedy Central, the comercials came up, and it seemed like gorgeous women were popping up every second! I just could barely contain myself, I was practically drooling. The worst was when I began chanting "boobs, boobs!" in my head like some deranged nocturn sex crazed zombie.

Then I had a dream last night. I was sitting in some room with a bunch of other teens, watching television (I think this was at school), and this beautiful girl was sitting next to me. Then, I felt someone running their fingers through my hair, and she leaned over and said, "So, I'm gay, you're gay, want to be my girldfriend?" Then we got all prepared for the kiss, and I WOKE UP. Damn it!

Sorry to burden you with all this, just I have no one to talk to about it.

I feel like such a guy.

Anyways, in other news...

I'm starting to feel better, and I had a meeting with the school, and it seems like they'll support me every way they can so I can come back to school. But I'm switching anti-depressents at the moment, so my mood can be rather eratic. The slightest stress will make me incredibally depressed, and I'll start to cry. But hopefully when I fully get onto this drug (ephexor), I'll start getting better. I still can't go out at night though-I'm one of those people who get extremely affected by darkness, so that also makes me depressed. Sheesh.

Also, I got a quizilla account; you can visit my page here. I got two funny quizzes up, one to determine whether you're socially challenged (I should know, lol), and what kind of girl is for you (six choices, man, and some hot pictures).

Told you I'm a nymphomaniac:).

~Sam

Welcome to my character photo album!

I will constantly be working on this using the Yahoo avatar creator (because I cannot draw for my life), so they will look roughly as they do in my mind, but not quite. This will mainly be updated when I'm bored and have nothing to do, and when it is, I'll link it into my current journal entry.

Any questions? Good. Now enjoy my pictures, damn it!

This is Simon from my current Screenplay

This is Joseph from the same screenplay, Simon's love interest. He kind of looks how I imagined him...well, at least he's happy looking.

Ambeline from the same screenplay. She has the same mischevious punk attitude (I think I've got the hots for her now...)

This is Alan from my short story Exiles of the Establishment

This is Sidney from the same story.

Here is Stephanie, again from the same story.

Alex from That One Word. Of course, he looked even coockier in my head, but the expression is there!

Seth from the same story, Alex's accomplance in crime! ...not really.

I wish I were a little kid again-everything was so simple. Yesterday, after my mom and I had set up a cloth labrynth in the church meeting hall, we discovered (to her dismay), that the airconditioner lifted it up off the floor like a big bulging alveoli. Needless to say, I thought this was awesome, so I crawled under the edge and made my way beneath the cannopy crisscrossed with purple paths. It was so much fun, just taking pleasure in this simple act...I would have loved this when I was little, I'm sure of it. And I still love it now.

My mom and I are rather similar though. As she said, "Simple things amuse me."

Right now I'm listening to one of the albums I got from Tower Records last night-Team Boo by Mates of State (really great cooky indie pop). It was like a music orgy, man; I got Not Toxic by Dolorean, The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner by Ben Folds Five(if you don't have this, get it or die!), Shake the Sheets by Ted Leo and The Pharmacists, and Underachievers Please Try Harder by Camera Obscura. All of it is so great, I was practically salivating while updating them to my iPod (God, I barely have any room left-and not all of my CD collection is even in my iTunes).

I would highly recomend all of them:).

Last night I spent up till one in the morning writing more for Exiles of the Establishment. I'll probably finish it by tonight or tomorrow, but I'm really excited about it. That One Word was more comical, but this is more realistic, in a way (for me, at least. I've got to have some comedy). I just love Alan so much, his feelings for Sidney are so sweet. Anyways, you'll see.

But I thought I was doing better-I could even concentrate enough to do soome homework last night, but this morning I crashed and burned. In Sunday school, when everyone began crowding into that small room, I just got so anxious and chlostrophobic that I just had to get out. Again, I just attached myself to my mom for a while, but now she's doing pagaent rehersal (she works at the church). So, I'm here in her office, and just being alone makes me feel so much better. Even normally crowds put me on edge, especially in dense places, but now I just can't handle it.

I'm such an introvert.

But I will get better. The new anti-anxiety drug I'm taking is much better than my old one-zounds better. Zanyx didn't work for very long, while my colonopin is just right.

Anyways, this is my life. I'm hanging on by the edge of a thread. But most writers seem to do that*laughs*. I swear, me and Kafka were soul mates. If you ever read his diary, that is so me.

Adieu,

~Sam

From Orpheus Alan Lee’s Journal

First of all, what I want is clarity. A way of life that makes sense to me, that brings me satisfaction. I don’t want to half-ass my way through life and content myself with mediocrity. In all honesty, I would rather pierce myself with thick bamboo shoots each morning or stick a tack in my eye.

Okay, maybe not, but this is a time for hyperbole, okay?

The day has finally come when my book collection cannot fit in the house. All five bookshelves were eaten alive in my bedroom, so they insidiously migrated there way into my mother’s. She wasn’t too happy. In fact, she called it the “plague of the mind.