I can't say that I have a natural genius for math.  I've always had to work hard to keep up with people in class, and I've had to work even harder to keep up with my dad's expectations.

Although it never came easily, math was something that grew with me.  Every homework assignment and every book made me stronger in the subject and it was something I learned to love.  Once I began to understand how things worked, I couldn't put my books down.  I made it my talent through practice and hard work.

I have struggled to find my voice in writing for quite some time.  Today, I'm going to try something new.  Instead of forcing myself to write in ways I know little about, I'm going to write in the ways that really make sense to me.  I'm going to write a math book.

I'll still update periodically here, but most of what I write for the next few months will be for the book.  I don't want to give up fiction or anything, but I don't want to let the mathematical side of me sit idly by.

I don't understand feminism or egalitarianism as well as I thought I did.

In part, I can see my ignorance stemming from the multitude of definitions different groups of people attach to these words.  I understand that feminism has taken on quite a few definitions over the years and that the goals of one group may be radically different than the goals of another.  The question of how equally people should be treated is a question the egalitarians have been debating for quite some time.  The issues impacting these questions are evolving, meaning that the debate will also continue to evolve.

How should the goals of feminism and egalitarianism be achieved?  Are rights granted to those who have none or are rights taken away from people who shouldn't have them?  Maybe a combination of the two?

How should the differences between groups of people be treated?  What about the differences between men and women?  How did these differences influence current societal behaviors?

I need to understand more about these things.  There are so many factors involved and they keep changing every day.

I've been having trouble writing lately, both at work and on Xanga.  Most everything in my head right now is cluttered and in complete disarray.  My house is a mess; my papers, books, and unfinished project notebooks are strewn about the living room.

The following thoughts are just a few of many that I want to form into a good post at some point or another.

I've come to the conclusion that I don't really like alcoholic beverages at all.  Root beer has never given me a headache, made me dry heave the next morning, or crippled my ability to do anything requiring fine motor skills.  I currently have Coors Light, some microbrews, and A&W root beer in my fridge.  I almost always go straight to the root beer.  The whiskey in my cabinet remains virtually untouched since I opened it weeks ago.  Given this information, I might quit altogether.

I really miss being around my girlfriend.  I miss her so much.

I hate asking for help.  Regardless, I think I still need a little help every now and then.  I don't know what kind of help I need.  Anytime I think about it, I think about my own deficiencies.  If I need help keep my house clean, than I'm a disorderly slob.  If I need psychological help, then I'm weak-minded.  If I need help training or staying motivated, then I'm undisciplined.  Meh.  I don't even care about those thoughts anymore.  Sometimes I just want a friendly person to walk by and lend a hand, saying "You're just a little down right now, it'll be okay."  I feel selfish for wanting someone to focus some real attention on me, since I know how much time and effort that can take when you do it for someone else.

I need to learn to say "no."

I wish I knew what I was doing.  I'm supposed to build myself in whatever way I want.  I should cut my own path and press forward.  I'm doing all of those things, but I have no idea where I'm going.  Blind, fugacious energy, emerging for a moment and vanishing into the void of space.

I spent the better half of today in a panic trying to rehabilitate one of my hermit crabs.  She was trying to molt, but I apparently didn't provide the right conditions and the molt turned out horribly.  I wouldn't be at all surprised if she didn't make it through the night.

I've had that hermit crab for years now.  It kind of goes without saying that I've been feeling pretty down all day.

She's missing some of her legs and her big claw is deteriorating.  There's not much I can really do, but that hasn't stopped me from trying.  I modified an old tank with new bedding, fresh coconut, and shelter just for her.  There won't be any additional stress from the other crabs that way.  She has a heating pad to keep her warm, too.  I even used my glass cutter to modify the tank lid to let air in while still retaining moisture.

I then completely redid the big tank for the other two crabs.  If whatever made the other crab sick was inside the tank, I made sure it was removed.  Cleaning that thing takes forever.

All together, I spent an entire afternoon and evening, plus something like $40, on hospice care for a pet that only costs $5.

But I didn't want to do the economical thing.  I wanted to see this thing through.  It just felt right.

I felt sad during the entire thing because I saw something else in the scenario, something beyond the actual treatment of a sick pet.  If I took better care of the terrarium, or cleaned out their food dishes more regularly, or just examined the crabs more often, this might have been avoided.  I know that animals get sick and old and they all have to die at some point, but it shouldn't have been now.  It was my negligence that was at fault here.

Things just got bad and I didn't even know what to check for.  Is this happening in other areas of my life, too?  I look at myself in the mirror and I look fatter.  I feel slower.  My diet is going to hell and I'm finding more and more of my time being wasted away on stupid Internet stuff.  Sometimes I wake up on the weekends and go back to sleep because I don't know what the hell I'm even doing anymore.  There's so much I need to do and so little time to do anything.  The things I'm required to do by law or by work, I drag through.  The things I need to do to take care of myself I find falling by the wayside.

I seriously need to get it together.  I need the time and I need the drive.  Most importantly, I need direction.  Some days I feel like there's a fire burning inside of me, bright and violent, but the energy is wasted.  The energy dissipates and does nothing.

I'm getting the feeling that a hiatus from the Internet might be a good thing for me.  There's so much to process these days.

I'm just getting tired of it all.  My "culture" is a big joke that's being exploited by people who want to make a quick buck off of a cheap laugh.

I find that it's easy for me to construct an unrealistic view of the "real world" based on my experiences with what I see online.  I judge myself and others against unrealistic standards.

I bolster my own ego by comparing myself to the people that the Internet has chosen to ridicule.  On the same day, I can feel absolutely miserable by knowing that I may never achieve the greatness of the Internet's latest wunderkind.  This kind of thinking is dangerous - a gnawing feeling of inadequacy staved off by a need to feel superior to the dregs.  This kind of whiny jerk is not the man I want to become.

The Internet allows me to live different lives.  The mask I wear is an egalitarian, inoffensive thing.  There are those of you who despise "masks" in personality, and rightfully so.  They hide the man but there is only so long a man can run from himself.  "Be yourself, let the real you shine through!" is the message today.  It's a message too often embraced by people who assume they know what's under a person's "mask" already.  They know what to expect once the façade has been removed.  It's almost like opening an Easter egg - a bright, colorful, but artificial shell is surrounding a piece of candy.  There's variability in the candy, but it's always candy.  What if these people opened their eggs and found something horrible inside?  Something reprehensible and taboo?

Of course, we all have interests that may be seen as socially unacceptable within different realms of society.  That's how things are.  What bothers me is that I too often see myself jumping from two different personalities - the first is a man who tries to fit in with his local culture by carefully gauging their reactions to deviant activities.  This is "normal," I suppose.  The second is a man who says whatever the hell he wants whenever he wants.  Sometimes people are scared away by that, but with the Internet, more like-minded individuals can seep in and create a support structure.  It sounds like a good thing, doesn't it?  Maybe it is, I dunno.  It gets hard when my Internet friends start to merge with people who've actually gotten to know me.  I drift back to the man who has to choose his words carefully again, and the second man becomes silent.

This post was supposed to be short.  Then I started rambling about all of the things I've been thinking about.  Like I said in the first paragraph, there's so much to process these days.