Greetings, spork-fans. I know you are on the edge of your seat, eyes wide with excitement at the mere thought of a new post by me. Who am I to deny you? Let�s get it on!

I had this great idea for a rambling post with minor comedic setups with a huge finish - and without the help of obscure monkey references no less � but have forgotten what it was. Fear not, I�ll probably think of it as I�m trying to go to bed in a few hours. If so, I�ll try to get it on here in the morning before work. Instead, I figured I�d tell you what I did today, since it mainly involves my friend again. Those keeping up with the plot know that by �friend� I mean �girl I probably love but can�t have�. I say probably love because while I show all the symptoms and by traditional definitions I most certainly do, I personally think that the final ingredient in the mix has to be the other person acknowledging feelings for you. Yeah, its stupid, I know. But to me, I just have to know the other person feels something for me before I can give them my everything*, which one generally does when the whole love thing comes up.

** everything does not include the following: my star wars, lord of the rings, and neon genesis evangelion action figures, my girls gone wild vols. 1- 5, 7-9, and any of my many passwords.

So anyway, I wake up around noon-ish and fire up the Xbox � its time for some serious Knights of the Old Republic action. I�m playing a soldier type character that I am leading towards the dark side whenever I�m given a choice. Some of the answers I can give to this effect are great. I laugh out loud most of the time, especially when killing innocent civilians. Damn, I�m a sick man. About 4:30 my friend (for the sake of simplicity lets call her Lynn) calls and asks me to bring her dinner at work. She�s a life guard and management tends to frown on them leaving the kiddies to drown while they drive to waffle house for some smothered and covered hash browns. I take her food a lot, mainly because I can casually sit down afterwards and get a free 3 hours of conversation with her. Good times. She looks great as usual and we chat for a few hours till she gets off work and we go to Wal-Mart.

Story Interrupt. Prepare for Tangent.

I�m walking down the aisles of the redneck mecca and what do I hear over the speakers? �Attention Wal-Mart shoppers. All patrons over the age of 18 are in for a special treat. Please form a line at the red booth and receive your free kitchen knife.� What?!? Immediately, I want to know why they are arming us. Has Target formed a militia that is on its way here? I don�t know, but if Wal-Mart wants me to be armed, I damn well better get a deadly weapon in my hand as soon as possible. As I turn and walk towards the booth, the same voice comes back over the intercom, except this time it�s not a kitchen knife, it�s a paring knife. I was so sad. You probably couldn�t even make a midget bleed with one of those things. I was so disappointed.

Story Resume.

Having been denied a sharp cutting tool, I met back up with Lynn and she made her purchases and we headed for the door. At least I did. Somehow in the span of three seconds we got separated. Now would be a good time to note that there was a 12 yr old girl there with us, too. Thinking they stopped to look at something or had merely taken another route to the garden center exit, where we were parked, I made my way there. I stood there for just at a minute before I heard my name blaring from the intercom. Instantly embarrassed, I rushed to sporting goods to find two jovial ladies. I was none too happy.

One of the many psychological oddities of mine is I HATE having attention drawn to me. I loathe it. I don�t really like big groups of people, unless the group is HUGE. Example: walking into a classroom, school-sized auditorium, or basically anywhere where I might be noticed � absolutely terrified. Walking around Times Square in NYC where no one gives a shit about you and its obvious, large outdoor festivals � perfectly ok. I cannot speak in front of groups of people unless forced, and I usually find some way to get out of it. I took a D in a speech class for refusing to give my speeches. Stupid core classes. If I�m in public and I hear someone laugh, no matter how far away, I KNOW they are laughing at me. I constantly wipe my nose; my own personal nervous tick. When I walk I stare at the ground, looking up only occasionally to make sure I�m going the right way. I almost feel the world revolves around me, but not in a good way. Everyone waits for me to look like an idiot, to say something stupid, to fail. I know in my head that no one cares, but when I�m there I feel nothing but everyone looking at me. Oddly, I also cannot stand in line anywhere and not talk to the people next to me. I�ll make up something or point to something and comment. I have to. But I digress�.

I�m walking towards them and I�m pissed. I round that last aisle and see them, see Lynn, and I�m instantly ok. I�m not mad at all. It even confuses me. My body didn�t get the message in time and I still had a scowl, so she commented. Just kidding around, I acted the part. We get back to the car and I�m sitting in the back. I tap her shoulder and wink at her in the rear-view. Here is where I learn she�s mad that I�m mad. This is fun! Thankfully, all is good within a few minutes, no damage. At least I know now not to fake anger. It�s not a good move. You can write that down if you want. If you don�t have a pen handy, don�t worry. I�ll put it in the book I�m writing: Stupid Shit I Said to Girls that Keeps Me Single. Look for it this fall.

We traverse back to her house, which isn�t her house at all. She stays with the family of her friend from...somewhere�and�. Actually, I�m kind of confused about it. I know all the circumstances around it, just not so much why she stays with these exact people. I know it�s a friend of hers� family, but I had never even seen a picture of this friend, much less met her. She�s been doing a missions trip thing in Haiti so she hasn�t been around. She got back in town yesterday or the day before, so I got to finally meet her tonight. She seemed pretty cool from the little we got to talk. Not that yall care, but she looks a lot like one of her cousins that I know. So we are all hanging around at Lynn�s, and by we I now include her boyfriend, seeing as how he pulled up at the same time we did. In another time and another place, I wouldn�t be friends with him, but he�s her boyfriend and for her sake I never say anything that shows a dislike. And I don�t hate him, he�s just not what I look for in a friend. Heck, after 24 years of living I only have like 3 or 4 people I call friends, and only two of those can I stand to see everyday. I�m very picky about who I�ll hang around with, which should tell you a lot about how much I like this girl. I have hung out with her every single day for weeks now and I still want more. I feel deprived. I have never in my entire life seen anyone that much or that often except family. And this includes girlfriends, too.

So we hang around. The house is packed. Besides Lynn, her friend, her friend�s mother and grandmother, three visiting kids are there. There�s usually another guy and his girlfriend there, too, so it�s pretty busy most times. So it�s all of us spread around the house. The twelve-yr-old from earlier is doing Lynn�s hair; putting it into ponytails, pigtails, buns and variations. I�m organizing her jewelry making supply box, sitting next to her on the bed while the boyfriend plays around on the computer. Every now and then I glance at her, and every time I�m struck by how amazing she is. I meet her eyes and I smile, but while I am truly happy in that moment, I�m also saddened because I know my role is that of friend. At least I have that.

Obvious statement of the day: Finding the right girl for you is hard. Finding the right girl that�s everything you want and has qualities you didn�t even know you cared about but love and not getting to do a damn thing about it is harder.

Eventually Lynn goes to talk to her friend and I�m left in the room with just the boyfriend. I don�t really know why, mainly boredom, but I start cutting myself with a box cutter. Actually, I kind of know why. It�s not the self mutilation type thing, where I�m an attention whore. It�s like the song says:

I hurt myself today

to see if I still feel.

I focus on the pain,

the only thing that�s real.

It really is like that. I�ll cut myself just to see the blood, to see if I�m alive. I like the pain. I can�t say there�s no weird psychological thing going on since I tend to do it more when I�m in a depressed mood, but I can be perfectly content and still just cut myself. Tonight was odd in that I was cutting the back of my hand. I usually cut my forearms, ankles, thighs, or fingers. Every now and then I�ll slice my chest so I can stand there and watch myself bleed, but that�s rare indeed. I wish I could say it was purely for me, but a part of it is for attention sometimes. Not tonight, though. That�s the only part that bothers me at all. The cuts heal, some scar � so what. I get mad at myself when I do it where other people can see it or when its done when people will notice. Lynn noticed. She seemed upset. I never wanted her to see me do something like that. �Hey, I�ve fallen for you. By the way, check out this cut on my arm. Awesome!� Try explaining cutting yourself until you bleed to someone without looking like an nut. It�s a hard task indeed. I�ve been doing it for years � at least since 7 th grade. It�s usually something small � getting a knife from a drawer, I may run it across my forearm or a random few slices with a pocket knife. I haven�t done anything at all in a month or so. Nothing big for a couple of months. The worst thing recently that I can think of is when a friend shared a secret she should have never kept (but I understand why) and I beat on a wall, splitting open my hand. But even that healed in a week or so. No problem. I guess as a guy with a degree in psychology I should be more worried, but I�m not. I don�t see it as being that bad.

That pretty much ended the night. She did walk me to the door, which isn�t something she always does but is much enjoyed by me. I got one last look into those eyes and headed to the car a with a smile on my face and came back here, where I sit now writing stuff I never meant to. Damn you, Diaryland! It�s ok though. While I never intended to write most of this, I don�t regret it. I got to defend myself to myself for some things, so I actually feel better. Therefore, I rescind the damn you, Diaryland. Instead, I award you 55 house points, enough to put you 1 point ahead of Slytherin house. Oh yeah, I�m talking to you Slytherin. What ya got? Nothing? Eat it up, bitches. Diaryland wins the House Cup! I believe a change of decoration is in order.

**waves arms in a clearly magical way**

**banners change**

**Hagrid cries**

**Hermione is hot. Wait, she�s like 13. Um, Hermoine is a good actress with nice features. Damn, still creepy�**

**post ends abruptly**

Past / Present