The calendar once again peels away to reveal that "special" time of year--Christmas. And, once again, I will not have anyone in my life to make it feel as special as it should. This month will inevetably zoom by at lightning speed, and I will be left to cough up the dust left drifting in the air in its wake. I'm not sure how things always work out this way--how I'm never really happy. I find it odd that I've dated at least seven guys, and still have yet to know what love really is. I have no happy memories from any of these trysts. All the bad experiences have glommed onto those and swallowed them whole. With Greg, it wasn't a matter of bad or good--it was like we never got past the introduction phase. It was mere physical attraction.

And I'm sick of that. I don't understand what's so horrible about me--how Theo can have wonderful, romantic, sincere memories of his exes, and all I'm left with is recollections of rough breakups, lies, mistakes, deceit, and pain. Do I just go for the wrong kind of guys? If so, what kind of guy is the "right" kind of guy? Certainly not Theo. I'm already certain he will grow tired of my insolence and stupidity and abandon me over the course of the next month. What am I saying? Are we even together? NO. A kiss means nothing to some people. I don't know why it means so much to me.

Perhaps I'm just the wrong guy. Perhaps they were all wonderful, but it was my fault, my wrongdoing.

I love "Lo! How a rose e'er blooming." What a testament of fine musicianship.

I'm so glad I'm not pursuing music as a career. It's really just not made for me...or the other way around. Oh well. My sister is chronically menstruating, I think. Or else, she's just always crabby. I cannot tell. I do, however, know that Goldfish are perhaps the most wonderful snack-esque edibles in existence.

I just returned from an evening with my best friend in the entire world, Erin. I wish I weren't queer sometimes, when I'm with her. I think of how wonderful it would be to truly be one with her on all levels. But the "Will and Grace" relationship is working out splendidly so far. We've determined what we're buying each other for Christmas--sexysexy outfits from Bebe and Structure (Or...shudder...Express for Men....), respectively. I love her.

We did a horrid "Let's quiet down now, kids" activity in journalism "class" today. We took one of those "Seventeen" magazine quizzes, where we learn something about ourselves through deceitful questions. (Durr.) Today's topic was, "How passionate are you?" I received the lowest possible score, putting me in the "insensitive, soul-void" category. Is that true? I sometimes wonder.

Madrigals frustrates me so. I don't know why we cannot simply be GOOD. I don't know why people cannot simply CARE about the group and the goddamn dinner this Saturday. Why must Carla and I be labeled "Madrigal Nazis?" Shouldn't everyone be that passionate about it? We're going to practically mock the composers of these pieces on Saturday, by ruining the notes, rhythms, and meanings of these songs. Jesus.

I just read Theo's journal. He appears to be glad I came into his life, mostly because of my "compliments" and "comments." I don't know. I really don't. And I hate not knowing. And I hate Microsoft, for not making Windows XP compatible with my goddamn modem. I'm very negative.

So, I once again attempt to write in a daily journal--this time, my endeavor may prove to be much simpler, seeing as how this is computer-based, and I am frequently sitting in the same chair I currently occupy. My reason for beginning this journal (of sorts) is two-fold: First, I've always wanted to be able to maintain a journal for psychological reasons. It must be theraputic; some of my most even-tempered friends keep them. Also, I think it will subconsciously bring me closer to TWTD--I'm just unusual like that. It probably won't, but it's worth a shot.

In this "relationship," I decided to do everything I've always done with relationships the complete opposite way. I could hardly call it a relationship, however--we've kissed but once, and this occured after he shared his views on meaningless sex and "hook-ups" with me. I make incredibly risky and dumb moves, oftentimes. I already know where this is going.