"Voices calling to me to get back down"

And of course it's time to post. Because I feel like shit.

The past few weeks have been relatively (except for a few incidents) flawless. I was still high off the epic vibes I got on my birthday, and everything was going right. I got into the Dimple Divers, I got my triple Connection approved, and I got my Independent Study approved. I felt loved, I felt wanted, and I felt protected. Insulated. I felt as if there was nothing that could bring me down--not even the fact that I haven't really been fixing my life like I swore to, or how I'm still dying over these girl issues. But things tend to catch up with you when you're looking the other direction.

I feel like "such is life": it crescendos and crashes down like everything else in this world--music, literature, sex, etc. But I'll try to catalogue the shit that's been going down in my life, and pushing me deep into a rut the likes of which I haven't seen for months.

I feel like I'm being boxed out of my friendships. There are new variables in all of my circles of friends, and these variables don't like me. Maybe because I don't smoke pot, or because I'm an RA, or because I'm too blunt? I don't know. I used to be fine being the sober kid, but around this new element I fucking hate it. Because I feel like I'm looked down upon for not smoking, which is fucking bullshit.

I don't feel like my friends are excluding me. I feel like they're being pulled in different directions, and I'm left behind. I can't really explain how that's not exclusion, but you've gotta trust me on this one. I feel like THEY'RE not leaving me behind, but these new elements are. I want to hang out with my friends, but I don't want to be there when I'm treated like shit by the other people there. I don't need to put up with anyone talking down to me, even if it's sarcastic and thinly veiled by a coating of "joking".

The next issue is potentially (?) resolved. I don't want to discuss it really--it was just about group conflicts with VUJ and Dimple Divers and my having to potentially choose one over the other. I won't share which choice I would have made because it would upset a grand number of people, but I was definitely leaning in one direction.

I guess I feel like the biggest issues are social ones. And I know it's the coward in me pointing towards other people to assess my problems, but I honestly think a lot of my current misery is due to others. Or, my relationship to them. I am so goddamn lonely, and there are so many things I want to say but I can't and never will, and I will never learn.

Maybe I shouldn't say never. But if I don't grow some fucking balls, Never will be inevitable.

This weekend I will be going down to New York. I will be with my brother, I will be with people I love and who love me, and I will feel infinite.

I really fucking hope so.

"So how do I feel about my life?"

It's been a long time coming, but I think it's time to confront a lot of things about me. And I don't want pity, and I don't want sympathy. I want understanding.

I'm not gay, if that's what you're thinking this is about. I'm just a failure with women.

It's been way too long with me fucking up every time I like a girl. I find girls and I pursue, but never explicitly enough and never successfully enough. Girls do not like me back. It's that simple. It's an unbalanced equation and it's totally not in my favor.

I am exhausted from failure. I am exhausted from being the puppy dog who is kicked around by girls who want the pitbull. I know I'm not some delicate little flower or anything, and I don't want that to be the impression I'm giving in this post. I'm just broken from too many failed attempts, from too many wasted opportunities, and from too many close calls. There's only so much rejection a person can take, and I've past that threshold.

So I'm going to rediscover myself. I went to the gym yesterday, and it wasn't terrifying--it was painful, but I felt amazing about myself afterwards. I felt new, refreshed, happy. And what's more is I plan on going back. Often.

I also will quit smoking. I often have a cigarette every "once in a while" (i.e. daily) and that must stop.

But here's the real clincher of the deal, the big revelation of the affair: I'm taking myself out of the game. I'm ridding myself of temptation by becoming celibate. No sex. Maybe no hooking up. I haven't thought that hard about it. But at this point, none. Because if I want to hook up with people, then I'll be pursuing people. And that's just a waste of my time, energy, and self-esteem.
So there it is. I'm going to rediscover myself. I think this has been coming for a while now. All this stuff about the universe and cosmic truth has reminded me of Buddhism, and I need to look deeper into that. It just makes sense. Right? I don't know. Sex isn't for me. Girls aren't for me. I'm just not that desirable. I think I need to like myself and my own truth a little more before anything sincerely happens.

With that said, if something does happen to pop up, who knows? But I'm no longer pursuing.

I hope this, unlike everything else so far, goes well.

Godspeed?

--Will

Wheaton Love Line Presents...

Hey there, boys and girls, ladies and gentleman. It's Will from Wheaton Love Line and I'm here to clear the air about a subject that has plagued mankind--yes, specifically mankind--since the creation of women. I speak of course of the dreaded, insidious cockblock. But I'm here to clear the air about what exactly constitutes a cockblock, or what constitutes a whiny bitch of a man who can't get girls. So, without further ado, I present to you:


THE RULES OF THE COCKBLOCK

First, some ground rules. Before we go into what a cockblock looks like, I'll explain what it is.

Cockblock (n) (CAWK-blAWK) -- The act of intercepting female attention away from a friend who is actively pursuing said female.

That definition may not be quite so perfect, so I'll explain a little more. Because, to be fair to the potential cockblocker, the act of getting female attention away from a friend may not necessarily be a cockblock. This is essential, kids, so listen up: The most important piece to that definition is the idea of active pursuit. If there is no active pursuit, it is not a cockblock. I'll give an example of both cases.

Example 1: Boy A is has a huge crush on Girl D. He has Girl D's phone number--never called--and Girl D's screen name--never double-clicked. Boy A is facebook friends with Girl D, but he doesn't really call her. He mainly checks her pictures. Boy B, A's best friend, is at a party with Girl D and Boy A. Girl D starts flirting with Boy B, and Boy B--clearly--responds. Girl D gives Boy B her phone number, and Boy B responds with a kiss on the cheek before leaving. Boy A freaks out, storms from the party, and vows to murder his friend.

That's the first example. Sick of using letters, I will begin to give names to the characters in our example. This following piece is about Morty, Peter, and Francine.

Example 2: Morty really digs this girl, Francine. All of his friends know. They've been hanging out pretty frequently for the past two weeks. They talk online often, they hang out. But for some reason, his friend Peter is always there when they hang out. Peter begins making his own plans with Francine, but always remembers to send a late invitation to Morty. Moreover, whenever the three of them hang out, Peter never ceases to mock Morty: his appearance, his tastes, everything. Anything, really, to get a laugh out of Francine. Morty can't stand this feeling so he often removes himself from situations that involve either Francine or Peter, and he almost always avoids situations with the two of them together.

Now, boys and girls, I ask you: Which situation do you think is the cockblock? Got it?

That's right. Example 2 is a very common example of the cockblock. It involves a friend--aware of his friend's crush and active pursuit--overstepping the boundaries of both friendship and the unspoken male agreement that you do not play games over women.

I know what you're thinking. Some of this is absurdly barbaric, as it seemingly disregards the identity of woman as human and not object. But I must stress the fact: when a male (friend, enemy, or otherwise) steps into another male's game, or pursuit, he is creating a situation of animalistic, predatory viciousness. This contest is much more aggravated when the "other" male is the pursuer's friend, who most likely knows about the pursuer's feelings towards the girl.

All of that is incredibly dense and incomprehensible. What I'm trying to say is that when a guy likes a girl and someone steps in, it's fucking on. Moreover, if that someone is a friend, then it goes deeper and more vicious than it ever would normally. It breaks any bond of trust between friends, it generally works out against the original pursuer, and it's just generally a dick move, literally and figuratively.

So, all of this raises a question:

What constitutes a cockblock?

It's a good question, and a very important one. How can you speak to a girl that your friend digs without getting him pissed off? Moreover and perhaps more importantly, how do you deal with liking the same girl that your friend has "called"?

A cockblock is any act of flirting with the girl that your friend has expressed feelings about. Generally, if a friend has tried for a long time and has failed, you can step in, but only when your friend has found another crush. And you must give him a little time with that crush, otherwise you look like a douchebag.

But things to keep in mind:

1. Flirting is most certainly cockblocking.
2. Making fun of your friend in front of the girl he likes is most certainly cockblocking.
3. Bragging, depending on the extent and nature of the brag, can be cockblocking.
4. Going around your friend to initiate a relationship with the girl he likes (platonic relationship or otherwise) is pretty much cockblocking. Anything can turn into a sexual relationship instantly.

What should you do as the third wheel in a flirtfest? You have one of the most important roles a guy must play in his life, and if you're good at it you will be greatly rewarded with karma and other such goodies: you must play the wingman.

Now, being a wingman doesn't mean you won't get play yourself. Some of the best wingmen are in relationships, or have been with many girls in their time. To be a good wingman, you must play up your friend without drawing attention to yourself. But this doesn't mean you have to be dry or boring. Just not around constantly. A good wingman does his work and then bolts, onto his own pursuits. If you can't help your friend get girls, then don't be around. It's better to be gone than to be a cockblocker.

So, that's pretty much my answer to cockblocking. It's cruel, it's vicious, and it's uncool. Guys should never cockblock their friends. If your friend has not actively pursued, give him the option to step up his game or move out of the way. It's just plain courteous.

That's all. Any questions?

--Will

Come back for more. Do it again.

So it's been a while.

How're things?

For me, things are kind of shitty. I'm just hanging out in my room listening to () by Sigur Ros and wondering when I'm going to figure anything out. When I'm going to figure out exactly what my hook is, what my downfall is, and what my gray-matter is. I want to figure out how I work, how I fit into all of these other people's lives, because I barely fit into my own.

I've been thinking on a pretty cosmic level recently. Literally. The cosmos, the expanding universe, the space-time continuum, the existence of God and of Man and of Whatever Else is Out There. It's gotten me pretty down, for the most part. I think it's just the knowledge that I, on a large enough scale, amount to nothing. My writing comic books or teaching English will do nothing to stop the galaxy's drift into explosion. And maybe that's the sick joke of it all. Maybe we're tested to move faster and harder, to produce bigger and better, and then it's all cut out from underneath us when the radioactive energy from the sun can't heat the liquid-hot magma under the earth's crust. Or maybe that's just how my life works. Or maybe I'm being melodramatic.

So far, being back is not good. I'll just throw it out there. I miss my friends from this summer, my friends who loved me and called me and wanted me around. I hate the fact that we had such little time and way too much fun. I hate the fact that I feel the only way to have fun here is to drink, or to be in situations when I'm so anxious that I have to remove myself from them. I also hate being judged by people who have spent one year with me, and they think they know me. They think I'm some kind of charicature who can't really "make it" on my own. That I'm impulsive, and naive, and uncreative. I don't know why these people bother me. They just do.

Being an RA is equally frustrating. It's hard to come to terms with the fact that I am a narc. My job is to rat out people for doing the same things I used to do and, often, wish I were doing when I'm busting them. It's not that I want to get shitfaced every weekend. I just don't want to have to feel guilty for the few times I do it. Is that unreasonable? Am I going to get in trouble for writing this? Are the people reading this only doing it to catch me in my huge mistake, my constant error: my confessional?

I want to break down and cry, but I can't. I want to hug someone, but I can't. I want to kiss someone, but WOW I can't. Because there is so much in the way. I miss home. I miss my Mom, and my Dad, but mainly my Mom's fantastic way of putting things in perspective for me. For some reason it doesn't work over the phone. Maybe cuz I can't hug her afterwards. God, I'm such a fucking baby sometimes. I want, I want, I want. I need, I need. All these things overpower that one thing I should be saying: I MUST. I MUST do things for myself, and not to hide from other people in this shell of a person I am at Wheaton College.

Happy Labor Day.

--Me

Closing Time

This is my second entry within a week, and that means one thing: Will is unhappy.

It's not just my perceptions. People are totally pulling away. People have pulled away. And at this point, I have no clue what the hell I'm doing wrong. And it's really upsetting me.

It's the time of year when people should be fixing things with one another, when you should try to get your last minutes in with the people you'll barely be able to live without for 3 months. And as I watch the goodbye hugs and tears, I realize that I'm surrounded by people who will actually miss each other. And although I've given hugs, they were never more than formalities, customs, "what you're supposed to do". I never feel like people will actually miss me, and how am I supposed to feel that way? Am I supposed to believe that their avoiding me is actually a coping mechanism? Or are they just trying to get away from me?

Who am I going to miss? It's pretty clear, or it should be. I'm totally generalizing in this blog, but there are some specific cases where I feel like I'm taking a knife in the heart because I'm being forgotten or ignored for seemingly no reason.

Should I stop caring about the people who dislike me, who hate my presence and make me feel uncomfortable? I want to, but it's hard, especially because their presence is seeping into the groups I felt closest to. I'm just running on empty.

There is also someone who I may never see again. This person is the person whom I've written about before, the unobtainable one. I've wanted so badly to just tell her, to kiss her, and nothing will happen. I'm terrified that I've missed a year of liking her when I should have stopped being a pussy. Like that's ever gonna happen.

Finally, while we're on the topic of being pussies, do me the favor of not being Anonymous when you comment on my Blog. The comment on my last blog was not only hurtful, but it was unfounded and seemed like it came from someone who's never spoken to me. If you want me to care about what you say, tell me who you are. I'd take criticism a lot easier that way. I respect you all enough to tell you how I feel and take you inside my insecurities and fears--do me the same respect and tell me who you are. If you actually care.

Things are ending terribly, and I've never felt worse about college.

That's all.
Will