Don Mann: Focusing on my Craft

Sunday, Feb. 29, 2004 - 9:24 p.m.

So it's about 9:30 now, and I'm exhausted. I did a lot of reading on psychological illness, and other things of the sort today, along with my usual binge of Graal Kingdoms. I made a comical and almost ironic discovery that most psychological disorders which don't occur during youthful mental development often occur from extended solitary separation from society. Thinking about this a moment, about how I haven't left my house in about a week, I realize the truth in all this. It really is driving me nuts, not having the inspiration to go out, or see anyone. It makes you start to wonder if it's worth it at all to interact with anyone else, or be where there's social interaction taking place. I'm starting to dread social interaction, feeling impartial and indifferent to my solidarity and miserable behaviour.

I almost don't care if I see anyone or do anything. Ever. There are moments where I get so lost in this thought that I begin to wonder if anyone else is even out there, or if I'm on the tongues or minds of anyone at all.

Strangely, being away from everything seems to almost be a tiny death, like a temporary vacation from the realm of the living into something much more existential.

I've begun to get extremely neurotic about things in my room. If my bed isn't made by the time I need to go to sleep I furiously curse myself under my breath for not making it when I woke up and hurredly throw the sheets back where they belong, no matter how exhausted I feel.

Also, it's strange that I haven't even considered playing guitar or any other instrument. I had to pretty much force myself to type this, too.

People will tell me I haven't changed, but I don't feel the same.

Also, I've become extremely masochistic about my workout regimen. I spend a good three to four hours a day lifting weights and doing other exercises, and it pleases me when I feel how sore and exhausted I am at the end of the day, much like I am now. I can't understand it. I'm going to be perpetually working on my fitness, however, because no matter how little I eat in a day or how much I work out, I always seem tubbier and pudgier in the morning, and throughout the day. I have gotten a lot stronger though. Something about going from only 10 pound weights at my disposal to now about 180 lbs is a good thing. Not that it matter much but I've been curling 40 pounds at about 20 reps and 5 sets for a week, and I feel much stronger now.

I guess the reason for my sudden infatuation with body building is the fact that I recently came to terms with my physical being. That sounds retarded, but let me explain. I am a big guy. A HUGE guy. I wasn't built to be the skinny little lead singer of Orgy or Rob Smith or friggin' Moby. I'm six foot fuckin' three. I'm made to be large. Therefore, I figure if I'm going to be big I might as well be extremely strong to back it up. I want someone to make fun of my size, I want some skinny little emo-dweeb to poke fun at my gut. Because I will always know deep down that I could snap him like a twig. Yeah, I know, I have some kind of inferiority complex or something. It's true, I feel like everytime someone looks at me they're secretly noting all my flaws.

Anyways, what else has been going on...oh yeah. I've been eating healthy for a change! Can you believe it? I've been eating nothing but tuna fish and salads, and fresh vegetables for the last few days. I plan to keep this up. It's not making me look any better, but I think it's doing something to my self confidence. I guess I can accept that no matter how many situps I do I'll always have a gut, regardless of diet. I really need to give up on soda now. I've been living off of brisks and hawaiian punch for the last two weeks, and I think my sugar intake is what's keeping me from getting anywhere.

Wow, this is a bunch of useless crap. Ah, and an update on what my heart's feeling right now.

Don's heart says; FUCK YOU LOVE. FUCK YOU HARD, FUCK YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL.

I'm becoming more and more immune to my feelings of loneliness and sadness. When night falls I immediately do everything in my power to pass out, so the loneliness doesn't set in. I won't give in to melancholy. The spot next to me in bed may always be empty, the hole in my heart may always be unfilled. I can fight it until it's no longer a part of me. Not like it's a big loss to anyone else. No one could appreciate what I have to offer, and no one could ever give even a fourth of it back. I'm gone now.

*Amendment*

Wow, my writing makes a lot more sense when I don't type in metaphor constantly. It's a lot more dull and drab, but perhaps that's how it needs to be. I think this change in my writing style could symbolize some kind of internal change in me. I don't know.

*Amendment*

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