Hi

Hello readers. After much highly charged deliberation, I have decided to continue writing here. It is complicated by the knowledge that I have readers who know me personally, and might not only be offended by what I write, but that I could hurt feelings. Also, you may note that two posts in particular were deleted, and that was because my wife requested it, but I feel a sense of loss in their deletion and should have at least kept them as unpublished drafts. The point is, I am not a news reporter and what is written here is not an unbiased, 100% accurate reflection of events, but is filtered through my perception and mood. I have wanted to display the inner workings of my mind like a prostitute in a confessional booth, naked and with candour, but this desire is now complicated by knowledge of my priest's identity. Real people (other than Michelle) can compare my confessions and even fabrications of personality as stated here to my real self as perceived in the real world. This blog is not "me." It presents parts of me, it is a construction of ideas about the world and myself. But if you actually knew me, or if you do, you would probably note a gap in how I portray myself here versus my personality in real life. I always wanted to be a fiction writer, but I am not one. I consider some of my writing here to be fiction in that I am taking liberties, and some of it is real because my stream of consciousness is also real. To create myself as a somewhat fictional character is something I can do. But in any case, what is the true self? Is it what we present to others, is it to be found in our dreams, can we ever be aware of the truth and is an outside perspective or an inside perspective more truthful? I would like to be granted the freedom to remain in denial about my readers, and hope for the mercy of that audience in granting to me the difference I'm trying to articulate. I am writing to discover myself and don't want to be pinned down by the process as here documented. Initially I planned to start a new blog and keep it anonymous, but then I considered the commenter who wrote that she had a girlfriend with BPD, addiction issues, and a Bipolar II diagnosis, and I thought, how can I abandon her?

Last night I had a dream that I was in some third world country and they were rounding up the Americans and killing them. It was like Nazi Germany and as if I were Anne Frank, but the country was more like India or Pakistan. They were hunting us out of our hiding spots and I had to flee. There were two men I recognized in flight, one of them was Jesse, a very quirky and sweet, gay gentleman who was my friend at Razor and Tie, LLC., my first real job in NYC. Both men had bicycles and were going to travel that way, so I was searching desperately for a bicycle to ride also. Jesse disappeared and I was left with the other man. In the next part of the dream we stopped at a gas station for food and I insisted on a can of beans and chicken with cheese over a box of cookies because I knew we needed the protein to stay strong on our journey. I asked, "So we will be safe if we can just get to Bombay, right?" And someone said, "But there are thousands of you and you have to prove that you can work there and get a visa, and it's almost impossible to book a flight." Then I was in a small Midwestern town with my sister Cary and I was complaining that the town was so small there were no guys to date and how could I marry? Then I was in a car and lighting a cigarette with the car-lighter thing that you push in and it heats up. I woke up from this dream and grew increasingly agitated and couldn't go back to sleep for an hour until I took a Xanax. I was thinking about all the people in horrible, violent political situations, refugees who have no freedom, rights, money, means of escape, and all those who finally make it to America.

Then I was thinking that I understand somewhat the point of pain and suffering as a test and an opportunity to become truly human or even Godlike. It seems that human nature is naturally ungrateful, characterized by a victim mentality, and prone to complaining and blaming others for their troubles. We can only appreciate what we have if we have to work and fight for it, if we dream of something better and then we achieve it or at least make strides in the ideal direction. If we are born into privilege, safety, health and wealth, it means almost nothing to us. We all want to avoid suffering, we want to stop working, we want things to be easy. In easy circumstances, we do not have to fight and we do not grow. Just a couple thoughts. I made the mistake of calling someone lazy when so many of us, myself including, are lazy in some respects. What does it mean to even be lazy? Isn't laziness usually rooted in fear? Perhaps those are two separate states of mind though.

I had to do a lot of reading on and by Freud yesterday for my class. Unfortunately, his views on female sexuality and identity development (the Electra complex) are so ridiculously ignorant and inaccurate that it's offensive and makes it difficult to take the other parts of his theories seriously. However, oddly enough, I can somewhat relate to the Oedipus complex. I wish a psychologist would extend that theory in light of the idea that homosexuality and gender identity are largely genetic. That perhaps, instead of homosexuality and queer gender identities being the result of an unsatisfactory completion of the stages (oral, anal, phallic, latency, genital) those factors influence or change the tasks demanded by the phases. I truly think that I may have desired my mother and definitely dreamed of usurping my father's place and to this end even wished for his death in an abstract way. And I know that I never, ever wished for a penis although I didn't have brothers so wasn't in a position to observe them or unconsciously make a connection between their bodies and power or patriarchy. But during so called "latency," which spans the ages 6-11, according to Freud (I don't believe in latency, as I recall playing a lot of very sexual games with my girlfriends during that age), I was made aware of the penis, and I felt very lucky to have my lady parts tucked neatly into a little purse rather than hanging out like a turkey gobbler. In fact I felt sorry for boys, as I thought it must be very uncomfortable and also shameful to be exposed like that.

Lastly, I am happy to report that Michelle and I are back on peaceful, intimate terms. She has been lucid, energetic, and extremely caring towards me ever since our talk on Friday evening of last week. The level of anger that was expressed by me and her extremely defensive maneuvers may have been in part due to the fact that our cycles are almost completely in sync - we began to flow within 24 hours of each other over the weekend - and also, there was that full moon last week.