I'm not dead.

I don't much like the world right now. Having a stalker sucks. I hate a lot of things. But merry fucking Christmas anyway.

... fun with a Sharpie and Emo nailpolish!

I do the DEW! Mmmm ... carbonated sugary caffeine sweetness. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. P.S. Oh, and for anyone who cares, Jay and I broke up a while back. He was a nympho. I just wasn't into that.

Yeah. I did it. I finally broke down and got myself one of those Myspace pages. And now ... I'm hopelessly addicted. God help me.

Heh. Howdy. Missed me! Missed me! Now you gotta kiss me!

I ... am fucking GORGEOUS!!! Worship me! Happy Easter/Ostara/National Rubber Eraser Day.

Once upon a time, back in the days of High School yore, I was walking through a rather intriguing and magical shop owned by an interesting character known as Spencer. He had, appropriately, named his shop Spencer's, filled will gadgets, toys, and nostalgic gifts of wonder. Amongst the shelves, I discovered a variety of enchanted pills, one bottle in particular catching my eye. Fuck-It-All Oh, how I wish these pills were real. Just ... fuck it all. FUCK IT ALL. Many, I'm sure, have been wondering where I've been and I offer a very simple group of answers. First, I felt the time was drawing nearer for me to disappear. Perhaps this was fueled by the fact that David and Shannon filed for divorce and are now in a rather ugly custody battle over Dakota - which, of course, I get stuck in the middle of, simply because I'm the uncle ... and apparently the only level-headed one out of both families, as this seems to have instigated a feud of sorts between the Glovers and the Barkleys. Being trapped inbetween, I am forced to take a side - there can be no neutrality in this argument. And thus, when faced with the option of a flying fist with brass knuckles and the bite of a rabid dog, I chose, quite simply, Dakota. When this decision did not satisfy the angry mob, I left. I packed my things, and I moved. I'm now living on my own in Owensboro and only one person knows where - and she is, most undoubtedly, unrelated to me. This is the first time I've ever lived entirely on my own - it's a little frightening sometimes, being alone, but it does have its perks. Just Lee, me, and an apartment all to myself. It's so quiet. So very, very quiet. And though it can be lonely at times, it is a good change for me. Of course, thanks to all the drama and sudden onslaught of stress brought on by the slamming of financial difficulty brought on by the sudden move out on my own, my health has suffered, my school work has suffered, so I'm taking some time off from school. "But Seth, you're so close. Don't give up." I'm not giving up, I'm just taking a break. If I had the monetary means, I'd relocate to India or someplace where I could have a retreat with a bona fide guru much like the Beatles. But I don't, so I settle for the occasional visit to my second home, the DGTL Buddhist monastery in Bloomington. Is it wrong of me to feel the need to avoid school and friends (save for a select few) like the plague? Maybe it is a bit selfish of me to, you know, disappear without telling anyone where or why I was going ... seems heartless - and I'm sorry. At the time, it felt right, but now I regret having not told several people at least that I was going to be gone for a while. To be honest, I didn't know how long I was going to be gone, or even if I was coming back. I walled myself up for the entire month of February, only emerging from the cave that is my new home on occasion for work or food. This first half of March, well, I started to come out a little more, even went to a party Friday night ... St. Patrick's Day. Me? At a party? It would seem that an old friend from high school had been in town for a while and was trying to get in touch with me, finally, Spiff told me and said there was a party that very night ... and so I took a shower, combed my hair, threw on my green sweater and went. Many drunken folk were there, and I felt like a fish out of water - as if cliche's weren't bad enough already. Spiff couldn't stay long as she had a remote to run at the station, which left me alone to fend for myself in the sea of bodies intoxicated from the mass intake of Irish Car Bombs and Guiness. I had half of a decent conversation with my old high school buddy, as he was quickly on his way to plastered status ... but I did meet at least one other mostly-sober person there. His name was Jay and we hit it off oh-so-well. Especially when we were sitting on the 110-year-old "Harry Potter" staircase, and he was talking about how he'd love to take me out sometime, and I said "You know I'm a guy, right?" Because, you know, I'd seen him drink an Irish Car Bomb earlier, so I wasn't sure. He looked at me with wide eyes and said "NO SHIT, DUDE! YOU'RE A DUDE!? I thought you said your name was Steph, not Seth! Fuck man, my mistake!" Which prompted a laugh from me and his confession that he wouldn't be offering to take me out if I was, indeed, a girl. So now it is that I have an unofficial boyfriend. I say "unofficial boyfriend" because neither of us are fond of the term "significant other" and I've always had issues with the word "lover" ... I don't know why. I still like the term "intimate companions." Nothing intimate beyond a hug and a kiss on the cheek has happened - we've been on one date as he succeeded in convincing me to go out Saturday night to a Flat Stanley concert. Silly me said "okay" - and thus I was reminded of why I left the smokey, cramped, loud bar scene in the first place - but also reminded of my love for the group Flat Stanley. And so it is that we are up to date. Yesterday, I was going through a couple of boxes that I had neglect to unpack (because I kinda just shoved them under the bed), and I found my novel ... and such a flood of memories came ... and suddenly, I realized just how much time had passed since I last had any real contact with the world ... Someone, please, make time slow down. IN OTHER EXISTENTIAL QUANDRIES ... ... why is there no "update" option for my page layout? I want so desperately to change the colors ... but it's rather pointless when you fill out the form and there's no "update" button ... ... WTF, mate? P.S. I know there were a couple really cool pics in this entry, but I had to take them down. Someone had stolen Charlotte's artwork and put it on their Deviant page and that shit just doesn't fly with me. I'll post more at another time - and not just fancy-smancy photography pics, but, like, real pics ... you know, sometime ... when cameras decide to stop stealing my soul.

Dare I even attempt to write a serious entry? A life update, I suppose. I really don't know where to begin. Not much has happened, really. I got my package from Slave Labor Graphics finally. I now have a nice Z? sleeve-less hoodie to wear. I'm so stylin'. I got a new perscription for my glasses. My eyesight is going bad, yes. I blame the internet. I'm getting more to do at work - which is a good thing, you know, since you're suppose to go to work to actually, like, work and stuff, and not just sit around watching Cartoon Network and Law & Order because you don't have anything to do - and it's not your fault if you get all your work done within an hour. I may be getting my own morning show on the Top 40 station. I plan to play some Tatu - espcially their latest "All About Us" because it's been stuck in my head for the last two days. I'm actually going out this weekend. Something NOT band or work related. I'm going with a couple friends to see Narnia ... finally. I've been wanting to see it for quite some time. The last time I actually got out to do something with friends (not work or band-related) was the first weekend of December when we saw Rent - which, I have to admit, is fucking AWESOME and everyone needs to see. I've been a fan of the musical for years, but I have to say: It's the only movie, in all my twenty-three years, that made me openly sob (much less cry) in a movie theater ... in front of people. One of my friends was like, "Seth, it's nice to see you showing a little emotion." ... I can't help it if I get a little too reserved sometimes. I guess I just keep it all bottled up inside, and when I finally let it out, it all comes out at once, and I come off as scary or something. People see me as overly emotional. At work, I'm the funny little gothy metro-sexual guy. (Where the metro-sexual part came from, I'm not sure - but I think that a certain coworker might have something to do with that.) I'm still getting teased by Ted about the whole having a twin whose a model thing. Well, at least they've finally dropped the Yulia Volkova thing ... after three years. (I guess since she had her baby, she's looking fuller and more like a woman than I do. WHEW. Sometimes it really sucks to be rather androgynous-looking. Sigh.) Damn. It's good to look like myself again. Or at least, that's what I thought until Ted saw Elyse. Sigh. Respect seems to be an issue at work, however. I'll have random people barge in to the studio while I'm in the middle of recording something, and I'll just want to smack them and be like "the door was closed, the sign was up, the light was on - WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!" I think it's time for a meeting. The weather is finally starting to return to normal, you know, winter-esque weather. Two days ago, we had a high of 68 ... this, my friends, is wrong, so very wrong for January. The last time the weather was like this was 2000, and we got a couple of happy tornadoes. Joy. Today, I am wearing my plaid Chucks in hopes that I'll have a good day - I've just been so increasingly stressed and I don't know why - things are easier now, but I just have this evil looming over my shoulder - like something bad is going to happen; some major shit will go down, and it just ... everything feels wrong. People around me are filled with either disrespect or animocity - surrounded by so much anger and frustration. I don't know where it's coming from. When the angry people get around me, I think that they're pissed off at me for some reason, and that everyone's attacking me. And at school, I don't know why, but I feel that one of my advisors has antagonized me. Perhaps it's easier to antagonize the person you never see. I mean, I was never able to come in for a meeting with him because of conflicting schedules, but I managed to show up to EVERY class last semester. Granted, he did not teach any of them, but nevertheless. It seems like the only time we ever communicate is to schedule and cancel meetings. I keep saying that I'd rather just discuss it over the phone or through e-mail since we are having so much trouble with scheduling a time together, but he insisted on an in-person meeting and ... well ... he's getting angry with me. The sad thing is, I think that we would have had whatever it was figured out by now if we'd just followed my route. Sigh. I feel like my only safe haven now is the Fine Arts Building - I feel like everywhere else on campus, people are watching for me, and I need to avoid them. It's gotten to the point where I park in certain areas and take certain paths to classes and buildings -long, out-of-the-way obstacle courses - in order to avoid seeing these people. So I've talking about this newfound paranoia with David and Shannon and told them I considered committing myself or getting therapy. They said I couldn't afford it and, alas, they're right. So I'm thinking of taking a semester off. I really think I need it. David, however, is against it completely - but that's him; he thinks I should just get school done and over with. Shannon is supportive and thinks that I could really use one - just so long as I take ONE class so that they can't screw me over in regards to my degree. David is worried that I'll have a taste of what's it's like to take off a semester and not want to go back. On the other hand, this commute of 30 miles to and 30 miles from work to home is starting to take its toll financially and in regards to time. Time for me to move out. Need my own place. Just need a roommate. Any of you guys want to move to Owensboring?

The internet is really, really great. The internet is for porn! ... this song has been stuck in my head since I first heard it three days ago. MAKE IT STOP!

Before leaving work, I took it upon myself to go channel surfing. I land on VH1 and notice that Top Model is on. For some reason, I feel compelled to watch. It's the first episode and I can already sense the tension and the girls that I'll want to hate. And then I discover this girl on there - she's very pretty, her name is Elyse - and a med student! Ted comes in, stands over my shoulder for a while, watching this with me, making the occasional remark (i.e. "Oh my god, they let her on the show with that blatant speech impediment?" and "Jesus! How Militantly Christian can a chick get?!" - I'm not sure that militantly is a real word, but I'm sure it is in his world); suddenly he goes quiet and then pipes up "Hey, look, Baxter! It's your twin!" Referring to Elyse. "No it's not!" I say. "YES IT IS!" he insists. "She looks just like you ... but with boobs." "Nuh uh. You lie. Besides, your flattering will not woo me." Ugh, he still insists now. Every time I walked past him, he called me Elyse. Even heard him mention it on the air while I was driving home. "So, I was watching some old episodes of America's Next Top Model on VH1, and I notice something - one of the models looks just like our very own Baxter ... but with breasts!" Oh dear god ... help me.

On a whim, I created a journal for my new rp character. Danyael. It is conveniently named: Danyael. You can find it at www.sitidiary.net/danyael Joy. Let's see if I can keep this one up as well ... actually, better, than these two. Nevertheless, he IS a fun character to play.

It's the Holiday Season ... ... ... Yeah. More will come later. Work now.

The time has come, my friends. I’ve already sent this message to a couple of people, but I’ll let it be known here as well. I will no longer roleplay as Tanager. It’s been a good run, but it’s time to retire the character. I’m tired of the drama – of people fighting over my time, attention, creative decisions, etc – people telling me how I should play my character. And in the writing that I’ve done with him in the last few months, I’ve realized that Tanager … Vincent Steinway … works best on paper, in story format. I’m happiest with him there – and that’s where he’ll stay. I apologize to anyone involved in Tanager-related storylines. In time, I am certain you will find a way to work him out of your own personal stories – kill him off, send him away, etc. Currently, Tanager is away in Versailles pursuing a career in diplomacy. There will be no visits to the manor, or Germany, or Paris, or wherever. Some of you may say “I’ll give him until summer; he’ll be playing Tan again in no time.” Nope. Vincent is going to stay on the page. When I do go to the manor, I may enter under the name of “Tanager” – but only for a while, that is, until people are accustomed to my new name of “Danyael.” I’ll continue with the Versailles storyline in my Tanager journal from time to time, but that is all. He will remain on the page, where he belongs. Sorry, the Time of Tanager is over … I’m tired. Namaste, Seth.

This time last night, it was 67 degrees. Now, it's 48. This ... is better. Not good, but better. It's November; it's supposed to be around 48 degrees during the daytime. We're getting there, I suppose. It's a beautiful, windy night, though. Makes me feel like reciting The Highwayman while laying on the back lawn. I've discovered this house is haunted ... or that the air currents have somehow manipulated the laws of physics. When I get home, I usually go through the garage. Now, despite the fact that the door leading into the house is sheltered by an ENTIRE GARAGE, the family seems to have decided ... somewhere down the road ... that they needed a storm door in front of the main door. Don't ask me why - they are strange people. Good people, but strange. When opening the storm door this evening, the front door slowly started to creep open, as though a courteous person was opening the door for me since my hands were full with books and dinner leftovers ... It just ... opened. No, there was no one in the hall, or behind it - no, I didn't touch it and no, it wasn't the cat. I just stood there for a bit, then finally managed an "Uhm ... thanks?" before making it inside. ... interesting. Good times. P.S. Sleep is oh-so-nice. And Lee loves my new Velour blanket. White fur + dark green blanket = anal-retentive Seth. P.P.S. I plan on writing some more on my novel tomorrow ... I have been neglecting it due to school work, but now that I'm all caught up - it's like it's calling to me. And ... curse you, Spiff, for getting me addicted to Sims 2. I hope you suffer ... I hope you suffer a dozen roaches!

Why do people suddenly assume that I care whether or not they had Oreo pie for dessert? I have much more important things on my mind ... Like do I bake the cookies without walnuts? Or do I bake the cookies WITH walnuts? "Stop stressing, Seth. It's okay. Everything will be okay, Seth. You'll do fine." ... what the hell? What is WRONG with you people? I am NOT stressing over this - I just can't decide if I'm in the mood for nuts. ... and thus begins the sex jokes. Moo.

I have been memed most foul by Nikki ... AND SPIFF! Curses ... -For Nikki- 1. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. I’m not good with nicknames. Uhm … Bibble Lou? Yeah, Bibble Lou seems fitting. Don’t know why. Just fun to say. 2. Am I loveable? Sure., even in your overly-enthusiastic moments over little things such as Jak or going berserker over why you can’t find your way out of the sewers in FF8 … er … I’ve said to much. 3. How long have you known me? Uhm … 42? 4. When and how did we first meet? Role Playing chatroom. 5. What was your first impression? ”I will take her under my wing.” 6. Do you still think that way about me now? Uhm … 42? 7. What do you think my weakness is? Glossing over issues – being too lenient. 8. Do you think I'll get married? Yes. 9. What makes me happy? Me, art, video games, good rp, good music, no drama, kitties, and … uhm … 42? 10. What makes me sad? The world, absence, people treating you like a teddy bear/doormat without willing to be the same back to you, losing your ink cartridges … 11. What reminds you of me? White and purple things, Kill Hannah, Final Fantasy, Siamese cats, Ellie Mae, Alyson Hannigan’s hair … not really sure why. 12. If you could give me anything what would it be? Company. 13. How well do you know me? Not extremely well – I’d actually like to know you a bit better, but I think I have a grasp on the essence that is Nikki and it smells of Lavender. 14. When's the last time you saw me? Never in person, but … uhm … we talked online for five minutes about two weeks ago. 15. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? Yes. 16. Do you think I could kill someone? If brainwashed by the Bush Administration … sure, but your will is too strong for that. 17. Describe me in one word. Splendiferous. 18. Do you think our friendship is getting stronger/weaker/or staying the same? It’s definitely getting … something. 19. Do you feel that you could talk to me about anything and I would listen? Sometimes – but sometimes I get scared of your reaction, so I keep quiet. 20. Are you going to put this on your journal and see what I say about you? … uhm … 42? -For Melissa- 1. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Spiff – that’s what I call you anyway. Hell, that’s what most everyone calls you. Uhm … Spooky Girl? Cool Spooky Girl? “That Goth Chick?” !!! Please don’t kill me. 2. Am I loveable? Everyone loves you. Except for Lana, but she’s just a jealous and pretentious stupid bitch anyway. 3. How long have you known me? Five and a half years. 4. When and how did we first meet? Ice Cream Social, Freshman year of college. We first started talking to each other in Choir. 5. What was your first impression? Damn, this girl is an Education Major? She’s a fucking Renaissance Woman! 6. Do you still think that way about me now? I’m still amazed that you’re STILL an education major … wait … okay, I know you changed majors a couple of times, but damnit, Melissa, you can be so much more than just a teacher. 7. What do you think my weakness is? The inability to say no or to turn away strays, procrastination, fear of intimacy, acute agoraphobia. 8. Do you think I'll get married? Yes. 9. What makes me happy? Sleep, the band, singing, tea, Cherry Slushies, driving, cats, talking with your brother, intelligent conversation, Chinese and Japanese culture, history, quiet, Autumn, music. 10. What makes me sad? Natural Disasters, friends being hurt, having to leave a stray on the side of the road instead of taking it home, school, things not going as you planned, your novel-in-progress (in certain chapters). 11. What reminds you of me? Green tea, Chinese stuff, Buddhism, chopsticks, clocks, pianos, cats, the house, Spooky things, pretty much everything, the smell of incense, etc. 12. If you could give me anything what would it be? Time – there just doesn’t seem to be enough of it. To quote you: “I’ll be just fine and I’ll get this done just as soon as you discover a way to MAKE TIME SLOW DOWN!” Huff huff huff … 13. How well do you know me? Swimmingly. 14. When's the last time you saw me? At dinner. 15. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? Yes. 16. Do you think I could kill someone? No. You even shoo gnats and spiders outside. If you did kill anyone, it would be an accident, and you would spend the rest of your days in a monastery repenting. 17. Describe me in one word. Delicate. 18. Do you think our friendship is getting stronger/weaker/or staying the same? Stronger every day. 19. Do you feel that you could talk to me about anything and I would listen? Absolutely; I mean, damn, if you can put up with pre-teens and early adolescents spilling their beans to you about the same things EVERY SINGLE DAY, then yeah, you can listen to my randomocity. 20. Are you going to put this on your journal and see what I say about you? Maaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyybbbbbbeeeeeeeeee …

what's your cowboy bebop theme song?

I have … a problem. A moral dilemma, I suppose … I’m not sure it is. But then, I doubt that either of the parties involved will ever read this journal, so I will commence to spilling the beans. I like someone. I mean, I really like someone. Sadly, I didn’t realize this until last night. I’ve known this person for four years, both of us always “involved” with someone else – but this is someone I’ve always liked, I just didn’t realize it until last night. His name is Matt. Yesterday morning, I get a call from Sarah, a high school (and somewhat college) friend – she used to date David, too … oh, the drama … that surprisingly does not exist. But anyway, she calls my grandmother’s, who then calls David, to where Sarah got my current number from Shannon and … yeah, there was quite a goose chase going on to locate me considering Sarah and I haven’t spoken since before I moved in with Spiff. But that’s beside the point. I get a call from her yesterday morning – at first I didn’t recognize her, but she said “Hey, Seth. It’s Sarah.” “Uhm … oh! HI!” “Guess who I have standing in my kitchen right now?” There was a pause as I thought … it had to be someone important enough for her to go through all the trouble of finding me, so who would I think that she had connections to or who did I know that she knew and hadn’t seen in a while? And the first thing that came to mind was … “Steve.” “Ding ding ding ding ding! Good boy! So what are you doing after work today?” “Uhhhh …” “You’re coming to my place to hang out with us!” For those who don’t know about Steve, we were friends in high school … I hung out in his crowd – the Goths, I suppose, we had a couple of parties together, went to movies – I think I even went to his house a couple of times. I’d always thought he was cool – and yes, maybe I had a slight crush on him, but I really would have rather spent my time with Paul at the time, as he was a good and close friend … and not surrounded by drooling, pretentious goth-wannabe-girls … So I, of course, agreed to visit on the fly – as I hadn’t seen him in over five years, since he joined the army and moved to Pennsylvania and all. I get there, and it’s the same old Steve … only now with a fiancé and a three-year-old son named Gabriel … and Gabe, my friends, was really smart for a three-year-old … and quite in a rush to show off his yo-yo. But, kid and fiancé aside, it was the same old Steve … and unfortunately, as I sat there, witnessing his interaction with his fiancé and Sarah … and his son, and the way he treated the other friends who’d come to visit him … I realized “What the hell was I thinking? This guy is just a pretentious ass.” And realized that I’d wasted three years of my teenage life just hanging around him. I spent most of the night hanging out with his son, actually. I had more fun playing yo-yo with Gabriel than even bothering to talk to Steve. And while Sarah was off entertaining Steve and other guests – and then, ultimately dying her hair purple – I spent my time hanging out with her husband … … Matt … With him, I had the most fun that I’d had in a while … and just talking. We talked about pretty much everything from Chris Angel to the word ostentatious … and actually got out the dictionary, looking up random words and trying to incorporate them into our regular conversations … that, and his hair was very soft, I remember … and I complimented him on such a thing … I think … the first time I met him was when Sarah, Matt, and I went with a group of friends to see A Perfect Cricle at the Louisville Garden back in 2001 … we stayed in a Days Inn that night and while Sarah was being one of those moody drunks, he was getting totally smashed and watched TV Funhouse with a completely sober me … and we opened up to each other. I’d always thought of it as a bonding moment. I didn’t realize it until last night that … that night in the Days Inn was when I realized that … I actually liked him. Last year, they were married. She “tricked” him into having a Wiccan ceremony. For some reason, in the back of my head, I could hear a voice saying that this was sooooooo not going to work out. I thought I remembered them telling me on quite a few occasions that they just wanted to live together and never get married … I ‘d always thought they had too many dramatic scenes to want to get married. I guess they thought once they actually did have it done legally, the drama would stop. If that was the case, they were horribly wrong. There’s a reason why that voice was resounding in my head at their wedding, telling me that it wasn’t going to work out. And as much as I love Sarah, I have known for a rather long time that she is, in fact, bisexual. But last night, we’re talking, she asks me if I’m seeing anyone now – I tell her no, there’s no one, but I’m about 80% sure that I’m gay. She confides in me, telling me not to tell anyone, but she’s about 98% sure that she’s a lesbian. I was shocked, yet not. I immediately started wondering if Matt knew. I was about to ask her, that is, until she started telling me about her current girlfriend … that she got engaged to recently – ring and all … even showed me the ring. She told me that she didn’t really want a divorce from Matt … but … I told her that it was actually pretty common for some lesbians not to realize that they were, in fact, lesbians until they were married. I didn’t, however, tell her that it went against every ounce of moral fiber within me to be married to someone and be dating/engaged to another woman on the side. The entire night I was just aching to speak to Matt about it, but I didn’t. Maybe I should have pulled him aside and discussed it … but I didn’t. I never told him that I knew about this, but somehow, deep inside, I knew … I knew that he knew she’d told me, and there was this mutual understanding of each other all night … and I caught a lot of stares from him and smiles, to boot. But we did have fun, I thought. Strange how a couple of young folks like us could actually have more fun with a dictionary than with a case of beer and a bonfire … Then again, maybe what I feel for him is just me confusing infatuation with the feeling of good friendship - as I have been known to do in the past? Why is it … that every time I think I’ve met a soulmate … they’re otherwise taken? Lindsay had Anthony. Rose had James. Matt had Sarah. Guess I really am cursed. … or maybe I should just … pray for a divorce? Sigh. Help?

Your Birthdate: May 3 Being born on the 3rd day of the month is likely to add a good bit of vitality to your life. The energy of 3 allows you bounce back rapidly from setbacks, physical or mental. There is a restlessness in your nature, but you seem to be able to portray an easygoing, "couldn't care less" attitude. You have a natural ability to express yourself in public, and you always make a very good impression. Good with words, you excel in writing, speaking, and possibly singing. You are energetic and always a good conversationalist. You have a keen imagination, but you tend to scatter your energies and become involved with too may superficial matters. You are affectionate and loving, but sometimes too sensitive. You are subject to rapid ups and downs. What Does Your Birth Date Mean? Yeah ... pretty much on the nose with all of that. I stole this from Mandy. HI, MANDY!!!!