Y2kk Update: You know, I can still feel how I felt that day long ago, when I was simply walking in the Spring sunshine with the girl I fell in love with at first sight... and it starting hailing... it started healing... like a halo of goodwill... with the sun glistening and glittering through the ice as if they were falling gems, I simply walked across the Elysian fields with this goddess of a women, and simply sighed a silent smile to myself... as we were catching the diamonds, cold as ice and supple as joy, in the palms of our hands, gazing like eager plums of parents as our children grew older and wiser into water... that this was possibly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life... and sigh... God...

Of course, flash forward just one year later, and already I'm rolling my eyes at just how damn ridiculous that whole movement of a moment was. I won't deny that the thought of ice pellets pelting my eyes for no apparent reason whatsoever, in the middle of broad daylight like the sharpest of broad swords, is still vaguely amusing... And I also won't deny that things with the girl I fell in love with at first sight didn't exactly go the way I planned either... But all because that girl turned out to be a biatch who wanted nothing to do with me, doesn't ruin the fact that I still count the hell of hail I saw, fluttering to the ground amongst her fluttering eyebrows, to be one of the most beautiful moments I've ever experienced in my whole life... and considering I'd like to keep that track record up, I was so Snoopy hoping for some sort of similar, fleeting moment with the girl I always talked about this year, only to find that... well... she was never really beautiful. And unfortunately, although I at least have another year to cherish with her, I so far don't have a single moment with her that I would even remotely consider beautiful, sorry as I am to say (and even sorrier I'll be if she ever reads this, but hopefully that'll forever be besides the point)...

This was going to be a Tweakui update long ago... my most-beautiful-things-I've-seen-all-year tribute... But alas, I got too lazy to write about any of this crap during the school year, but after going on my Vancouver trip? And after noticing just how dead this MSN site of mine really is?... well... I decided to pick up an old habit, and simply write about the sights that actually goddam moved me throughout the past year... and the first of the top three was actually one of the most simple things I have ever seen. I mean, we forgot to open the windows that day, and after painting a massive townhouse for seven long hours straight, I'm sure I wasn't exactly feeling like myself at the time... But nevertheless, the prospect still stands. That when night fell, the combination of shadows from the dying trees outside and the blade marks on the rusted windows below, all created a bouquet of a banquet of a silhouette on the sparkling walls that we had just endowed with gloss and emboss... Maybe it was just me at the time or something, considering I was drunk without ever drinking a damn shot. But still, the way the ambient light from the pale moonlight struck the simple, stucco grooves we had painted over, lighting them up like Christmas tree stars, side-by-side with shadows casted like constellations, somehow just moved me enough to take the time to just sit there, gazing at the wall... and yes, it's kind of sad actually. I enjoyed watching paint dry... But there's no denying, that somehow the wailing wall I was watching reminded me of my childhood, of shadow puppets and the simple innocence of knowing when to shine. And there's also no denying, that if I wasn't near the point of unconsciousness, I would've just scoffed at the wall and got on with my goddam job... but I guess, that's a story for another day, considering I can't remember what the hell happened after that...

Watching paint dry is always fun, but somehow, as much as I love a good shadow puppet show, there's just something about the morning Sun that always gets to me... Before we set off on our Vancouver vacation, we had to get up real damn early in the morning just to make the goddam air flight. And when I saw the Sun rising in the sky? I didn't care much for the orange and purple borealis high above the clouds or any crap like that, considering I've seen it all in screensavers of people who were e-high... But I did notice one damn thing: I could see the Sun... I could watch the Sun. I could stare at the Sun, as if it were real. It's such a simple thing - the ability to see the Sun instead of just knowing that it's there... and yet, I had never appreciated such a feat before, to look upon the Sun without turning a blind eye, probably because all I ever do now is sleep in and get goddam woken up by the Sun at noon... but still... there's no denying the fact, that I was simply moved when I could just stare at the closest star to the third rock from the Sun, and not have to glare away in blinding pain... because I had forgotten that in the morning, the Sun still shines no more brightly than the furthest stars in the sky... and of course, it also helped that I was too damn tired in the morning to do anything but dream of sugar plums and fire chariots racing across the stratosphere, stratusfaction guaranteed, but I guess that's also besides the point...

But just watching the Sun - just gazing at the Sun, and realizing that it was allowing me to gaze - has never been enough for me in the end... I've always considered technology to be the most beautiful thing on the face of the planet, which pretty much explains why I love downtown Toronto far more than any of those damn trees in Vancouver... and there was one really special sight I saw in Toronto one crispy, Canadian winter morning. On any normal given day, considering my parents are too damn cheap to order the newspaper, I stroll over the central fields to a place known as University College in the University of Toronto. And every single morning, I steal a newspaper from the poor saps there, and kind of read in it class... if I'm not sleeping, at least... But this one time, just this one time, as I was walking out of the college and back onto the fields, I noticed something... the Sun was shining, but I saw no Sun... instead, I noticed something else... the CN Tower in the background, which can be found directly in front of the college (not literally, but visually at least...)... the CN Tower was glowing. Like an angel, or the apocalypse, it was glowing, hot as fire and red as the flames of the dawn of time... The Sun was either directly behind or underneath the CN Tower, but astrology and physics be damned - all I cared about, was that there was a damn, shimmering pillar of fire right before me, at the most perfect of angles... and I willingly chose to be late for classes (well... I skipped them actually... quite a personal sacrifice...), simply because I just wanted to stand there, and simply hold onto - to grasp - that perfect vision until it would finally fade away... and unfortunately for me, I have yet to see such a perfect moment ever again, even though I steal a newspaper from that University College almost every single damn morning. I have yet to reproduce the vibrance of that magical moment even once more, as the Sun now seems to circle the CN Tower, and not become one with it... and alas, I guess even the hourglass is forced to follow the laws of men... not like it matters whether I ever see this sight again, considering I'd never bother to write about it a second time, mind you... as all good things do come to an end, even when it comes to memory...

And finally, my Vancouver trip... it was simply scenery here and more scenery there, so it was only a matter of time until I finally caught a glimpse of something that would glint my eyes with a masterful glow... and the thing was, the first day of our Canadian Rockies tour, we stayed at a four star hotel in a place called Salmon's Creek or some crap like that, near Vernon BC. And it was absolutely the most beautiful hotel I've ever been in, and the fact that they offered about 60 free channels on their cable television network sort of helped out in the end... But before I wasted the rest of my night watching CNN and CBC crap news, my brother and I went out to the pier just outside the hotel, and just stayed there as the Sun slowly settled into the backdrop of faraway mountains. And although most scenery fanatics may consider the sight of an orange tint, just emanating like an angel in the outfields, from seemingly the burrows of the grandest of mountains, to be one of the greatest sights ever told, I personally didn't think much of it... But I did think much of one thing... the water... yes, the damn water... I've already made several claims on my websites alone just how damn majestic the actually blue water was in British Columbia. But I have yet to mention even once, just how perfectly calm it all was on the most golden of nights... I mean, as I was sitting on that pier, I looked down, locked eyes, and noticed something... the water was still. It was so damn still, except for the occasional burble or ripple or two, that looking down, it was almost like looking into a perfect mirror... it was like looking into perfectly shimmering glass... And when I looked up? I saw two Suns. One in the sky, hovering over the mountains, and one in the sea, just staring right back... and yes, that was beautiful. To see a reflection so damn calm and so damn serene, that it looked more real than the real thing. And to see such water, so glorificus in its magnificence, that it looked like something straight out of a computer simulation or some crap like that... I mean, it didn't look real. It didn't look like water. It was too damn pure to be water. Instead, I felt like I had been surrounded by aether, as if the water were made of the gusts of God's wind... and it's truly impossible for me to even begin to describe how beautiful of a sight it simply was, to see the Sun set as if it belonged in the oceans below... to imagine the fire in the sky becoming once more with the reflections down below... and of course, after the Sun went down, my brother and I scrambled into Defecon 3 mode to avoid all the damn mosquitoes that were sewing our damn necks off, but still... the sight in the backdrop was still just so damn still, that it was almost like gazing at a painting that somehow stares back. A painting that I cannot simply paint a picture for in words.

And yes, I know just how damn cheesy and sappy I'm being, and it's not just because damn Vancouver got me used to the damn sap of trees. The fact is, I'm a sentimental guy... as my crying for no apparent reason whatsoever every damn year seems to announce in full glory... And truth be told, I'm not a nature guy. On any given day, I'd take the worst of the worst video games over the most fetching of fishing trips. But still, I have my moments... I have my three or four moments that truly stand out against the test of time. And now they're immortal - written on this website for me to gaze back upon whenever I deem fit, no matter the sands of time... but alas, even the hourglass is forced to follow the laws of men, as all goods things must come to an end... not like it matters though... My website has now made my memories immortal. But these memories were of the immortal in the first place, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean... Long after I'm gone, and long after these websites of mine are gone, these images will continue to excite and fry the fish of minds of would-be poets for centuries. So as far as I'm concerned, all I've really left... is a footprint... an echo... a grain of sand, and a goddam naturalist's bookmark...

And now my writing is really starting to wane and goddam even make me roll my eyes... I've been at this sired poet crap for too damn long... God, I really do need to get out more, now don't I?...

Y2kk Update: And, well... I just got back from Vancouver, Beautiful British Columbia. And while the natural scenery was so-called beautiful (until I got sick of it all, mind you), the truth of the matter was, I simply didn't care... Truth be told, as long as a man's eyes are open, there is only one thing that we can ever consider a beautiful view:

Women.

And in Vancouver? Well, that was sort of a problem... You see, there was a wide assortment of Western women there who were young, and attractive, with nifty hairdos and what not... but the problem? Well... first of all, you could tell they were all tourists. They were all damn girly tourists who think they're improving themselves by seeing the world and by being social or whatever kind of crap... I know these types of girls. We all do, but I know them firsthand in a different light. I've had crushes on them for a very long time... until I tried talking to them at least... and these so-called Vancouver Sun shine girls? Sure, they locked lips and looked ripe for the picking... until I saw the pick axes they brought and carry with their bare hands, like female yeti or some crap like that... I mean, these girls want nothing else than to hike, to bike, and to party all night long by the Kelowna beaches. And if I was some stud of an attractive and athletic guy, sure I'd be all over them. But I'm not. I'm a worthless no-name writer with wrists and ankles thinner than even my scrawny little sister's, so it's no surprise that I harbour a few ill wills towards those that are the complete antithesis of what I am... whatever the hell that's supposed to mean...

And it's not just that these girls are all young, attractive, and jiggy jocks... but they're jocks with a purpose. The damn purpose - their damn purpose - is goddammit, to save trees. While half the gals dressed up in ugly bikinis and scrumptiously short shorts to show off their male-sized calf muscles or whatever, the other half dressed up in the most trendy of outfits for you know what when it comes to British Columbia... they were all tree huggers. They were all bear worshippers, disgusted at the sight of a Chinese man like me going anywhere near a Grizzly's grisly penis... They all dressed in little T-shirts and little hats that just screamed out that they wanted to save the world. And hell, they thought they were saving the world, by just swimming around the beaches, and by taking pictures of the Banff national park's electrical fences with squirrel feces or any sort of crap. And I was there. I saw all this going on. And even though all the Western girls I saw were young, and pretty, and looked like they rock hard whenever they're given a hard rock on, the problem is... I just don't want these types of women. I just want a gentle girl who's meek and shy, and gracious, and gets wide-eyed hypersexual whenever I stroke her hair and nip her on the neck. Now what's wrong with that?...

And the thing is... I found one girl... one girl that I liked in Vancouver... but why did it have to be her?

You see, I was staying in Richmond, a suburb of Vancouver that's more than half populated by Chinese, fresh off the boat. And you'd think that after seeing so many of my own kind, my own blood, so to speak, that I might end up falling in love with one of those attack-of-the-dyed-hair clones, or with their Calvin Klein obsessed clothing, or with some sort of FOBby crap that I can't stand whenever I see it over here in Toronto... And the thing was, I still couldn't stand seeing the sight of these types of girls. Something just doesn't seem right when I even try talking to one, only to realize that they normally refuse to speak English... but there was one girl who did speak English. There was one girl that didn't dye her hair red like all the rest, or wear the same glasses as all the rest... there was just one girl that I willingly pined over, in the land of evergreen pines, one that I willingly chose, even though I'm still supposed to be infinitely attached by an umbilical cord to the girl I always talk about, and the girl I continue to hope for... but the thing is...

Why did it have to be her?

You see, I was staying in my godparents' house, and of course, they have a daughter... And if I can remember correctly? Oh, the last two or three times my god-family or whatever visited us here in Ontario, I remember just gazing at their daughter, and having little crushes on a girl that I knew would always be too old and mature and distant for meek me... and then there was also that other problem... I mean, I don't know how, but I've somehow been raised with the notion, that lotion is bad, and that the husband must be older, taller, and stronger than the misses... but if I ever considered her? If I ever became one with her?... well, one out of three wouldn't be that bad... but then again... it's not like I'd ever get more than 60% with any girl out there...

But no... I can't consider her! I thought my little crush on her was over, considering she was perhaps my first ever crush. I mean, I was a kid back then! I barely even knew what puberty actually stood for! So how the hell can I be blamed for fantasizing about sex, with this young, attractive, slinky girl that was living in my home?... and after she went away, my crush went away. And whenever she came back, my crush would come back... It's been an endless cycle for something like ten years now, and quite truthfully, by the time I had reached Vancouver, I had forgotten all about my past with her...

But of course, my whole damn crush crap all came flooding back to me with the deepest of blue crushes, the moment I simply laid her eyes on her once more... I mean, I won't bother describing or disputing how damn adorable her glasses are, or how naughty her darling teeth are whenever she smiles her vividly vivacious smile... I won't even talk of how beautiful her hair is when it flocks in the daylight, or how damn sultry it looks when it swings soaking wet with shower water. And I even won't begin to describe how damn delectable her feet look to me, the way she curls up on the couch in her tight fitting pyjamas every single night... But I will describe one thing: her hips. There's just something about her hips, her waist, and the way she wiggles herself around the floor... that I don't know. I just don't know how or why, but I just know... She and her family are just so damn religious. I mean, bloody hell, they were making arts and crafts for kids down in Guatemala while I was watching her breasts in the kitchen a couple nights back. But the thing is... she's such a good girl, but I could just tell from the intent in her glares of stares, and the fruity delight in her laughter... I just somehow know, that if only she got into bed... if she ever gets into bed... I just know... I just know how passionate and pomplemousse she'd be... I just know how sweet she'd taste... I just know, that she'd be a screamer... and just somehow, that makes me squeal in delight...

Except for one thing: she's like my goddam big sister for Christ's sakes! I've known her for God knows how long now, and the thing is... My mother and her mother are best friends! Not only that, but her parents are my bloody hell godparents! And God, I know that I've always been a sucker of a pucker when it comes to the Oedipal Complex, but honestly... whenever I look at her with lust, I just can't help but grind away in disgust, that goddammit... it's like I'm fucking a cousin in my mind! God, it's almost like I'm fucking my own damn sister!... which, um... I've actually, um... sadly dreamt of... in the past... a couple of times or so.... consciously... but, um, hopefully, that's besides the point...

So obviously, I was more than delighted when I went on my bus tour of the Rockies, and noticed right away a girl who was not related to me, and who looked so damn daintiful that I immediately wanted to sweep her off her feet... Her name was Sandy, and it'll be nice to see her again sometime in life. I seriously doubt I will though, considering I've said the same damn thing, for all the women of my past that I've never seen again since I last said goodbye... And it's not like I had anything special with this Sandy or anything. It wasn't love at first sight or any of that crap I've been through before. But it was attraction at first sight, simply because of the way her hair swayed in the Vancouver breeze, the way she smiled a semi-Chinese smile with those perfect shades on her face, and the damn dumbling yet professional way that her clothes highlighted the hints of her hips... And since a) I've been completely e-mailed ignored by the girl I talk too much about for the past month or so, and b) because I wanted any girl to get me off my god-awful, god-sister attraction, I was more than willing to do my patented, no-name, non-flirting flirting with this Sandy girl, if only so that she might eventually talk to me... and the thing was...

She did end up talking to me... well, not to me at first. She talked to my brother, who unlike me, actually is social and willing to say hello. But once Sandy and I were introduced?... well... we didn't talk much... but we did go through all the pleasantries and motions. And through them all, I realized that she was a pleasant girl. She was shy, and meek, and graceful, and not nearly as annoyingly social as my god-sister persists to be... but she didn't seem hypersexual. She didn't seem willing to jump on a car's shift stick the moment she gets the slightest bit horny from the movies, and somehow, because of that... by the end of the trip... She felt like a friend. A short lived and loved friend, but a friend at least, and not an object... not an object... sniff sniff... I almost wished I could still view her as an object. But alas, in the end, I am a sucker for equality and friendship, moreso than I am for ravaging women apparently...

And then of course, I returned back to my godparent's house for the next few days, and banged their daughter in my head some more. Of course, I felt guilty for it every step and slap and spanking of the way... but at least it was better than having wet dreams of my own sister, mind you... which, um... we shall never talk of again...

Or actually, all I've written in this update?... we shall never speak of it again... You hear me? That's right... it never happened... we shall never speak of all this again...

Y2kk Update: A little message from me, that I wrote on my download site today... not like it matters on this site though, considering nobody ever visits... and considering nobody ever writes, especially me anymore, but that's besides the point...

"You know, I was hoping to finish most of my homework before setting off for my vacation... You see, I've wanted to write a lot for my websites: a couple of editorials on my Noname site, a few tweaking updates on my Tweakui site, and an actual, real update or two on my MSN site of all sites... and yet I've accomplished none of the above. Hell, I haven't even read through my past year's archives yet for my annual best and worst IvanFian memories of the year review... even with four months of unemployment education, I still haven't gotten off my ass, and back onto my ass to write... and, well... I guess none of it really matters in the end. I still have time... I'll be leaving for the airport early tomorrow morning to fly with my family to visit relatives in Vancouver, BC. And of course, I can pick up my writing right and write where I leave off tonight the moment that I set foot back in Ontario, but still... just something in me absolutely hates the feeling of unfinished business... I just hate the feeling that I haven't gotten the job done...

And as for unfinished business? I sent one last e-mail to the girl I used to always talk about... it's become ritual for me to send her an obsessive, geek stalker letter every twelfth of every month. The thing is, she responded to me last time... she hasn't so far this time, unless she goes two for two and writes back to me as I'm writing this very update of mine... and about that unfinished business part? I just hate the feeling that relations became strained between us two as the latter months wore down. And it's not like I haven't tried to fix things, or at least try to talk about what went wrong... but as a girl, she's more Victoria secretive than I'll ever be, and thus it's not like I'll be getting anything but mindless rhetoric out of her... but still, even though my love for her has seemingly been lost, I just can't help but feel that... well... I miss liking her... I don't know if I miss her. But I miss being her friend... you know?... I just miss the fact that we once had something. And now we have nothing but a poor slab like me, endlessly e-mailing a pretty girl that pretty much got over me a hell of a long time ago.

I guess that's all I have to write this week... too bad, and faux pas for me then... and, well... simply put, this will be the last update from me for the next two weeks. I don't think I'll do much in Vancouver, but considering I now consider my own websites to be homework, it might be nice to actually take a real vacation off for once, and see if I actually can enjoy the feel of a keyboard once more when I finally do get back..."

Y2kk Update: I guess it's been pretty Y2kk obvious lately that me, Mr. IvanF over here, has been in quite a lull for the past month or so... or two... or three... or probably four, but that's besides the point... And as a result, the amount of updates I've given this useless website of mine have been practically null, or net zero. Because what's the purpose of writing, if you've got nothing to write?... but the thing is, today at least, as embarrassing as it was for me last night, I do have something to write... although not really something that I'm willing to share...

Let's backtrack a few years first. Because, um... I don't know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot, but I can still remember the first time that I... um... ejaculated... I was doing sit-ups in my lonesome hallway the time, simply in the hope that I could build back the abs that almost made me look almost decent back in Grade 9 a year before... The thing was, I didn't notice that my balls kept rubbing against my legs every single damn time I went up and down, down and up. And the thing was, although I felt something grainy going on in my bits and pieces down below, I didn't really think much of it, so I didn't really bother to stop humping myself... and by the hundredth sit-up or something?... um... well...

I sort of felt something wet in my pants... and thinking that I had pissed in my pants... again... I fled in fledgling embarrassment to the washroom, only to find that... um... my piss was sticking to my hands... and it was white... and smelled a bit like cabbage, or maybe that was just me?... It wasn't until later that night when I realized what had exactly transylvanian transpired. At first, I thought I just had some sicko kidney stones or some medical crap like that. But it didn't dawn on me until day met dusk, when I remembered all those Grade 6 sex ads (or, I mean, sex ed...) lessons of mine to realize that I had finally reached the crap that we call puberty... and since then? Ocasionally, once or twice a month, I hump a girl (or a, um, guy...) in a dream, on their ass, and end up having to wake up and change my pants in the washroom... Sadly enough, throughout most of my early crushes (the ILuvYou girl, the Beautifully Minded Girl, and my Obsession), I oddly still suffered most of my wet dreams from, of all people... visions of my sister... It kind of sucks to admit that, but I'm all about honesty, or at least that's what I claim to be...

But since going to university? Even before I developed a crush on her, I've always had wet dreams about the girl I talk too much about, as sad as it is to say. I mean, I had a perfectly good crush on a dazzling girl whom I fell in love with at first sight, and yet still my damn brain was dreaming of a girl that talked my ears off every single time I simply said hello... and the wet dreams just kept on getting stronger and stronger, and more frequent and frequent, as my crush on the girl I talk too much about progressed throughout the past year... until she started ignoring me, at least. Until she started pretending like I didn't exist or some crap like that, which by that point... well... I still had wet dreams occasionally and what not. It was just that, now thanks to her, they were faceless. Now they were meaningless. I would wake up in the middle of the night with underwear that was sticking to my dick, without any memory of what kind of hell dream triggered the whole damn crapping in my pants fiasco. And it certainly didn't help when the girl I talk too much about started ignoring my e-mails as well. Just yesterday on my download site, I reported that she still hadn't replied back to any of the damn letters I've sent her over the summer, and thus, it's no wonder why my dick wasn't happy enough to muster a masturbation of itself for the past few weeks or whatever kind of crap while I was sleeping... but the thing was... the fuckin' thing is...

She wrote back. Right after I uploaded my download site, as if by ironic magic, I found her letter... in my e-mail account... and I couldn't have been more disappointed in my life... I mean, I bust my balls, for her, for this?...

The thing was, she didn't even acknowledge that I was being rude and sarcastic to her in my previous e-mails. She didn't acknowledge any of the honesty that I put forth - that I get jealous of her, that I wish I never made mistakes in the year with her, and blah blah blah. I was trying to be serious, and what did I get back? She didn't just completely ignore every damn word I wrote - she also went on a tangent about how lovely, wonderfully "romantic" her whole summer has been. All she talked about was how damn happy she was with her job and hippy friends, the things that she's always dreamed of having... and things she obviously has without me, at the very least... She never needs me. She never wants me. She never cares about me. Why do I torture myself with letters like so?... I was hoping that the pathetic prose that I sent her a week or two ago would invoke some sort of crap emoticon in her mechanical tear ducts or whatever hell kind of crap, but instead, all I got back was meaningless rhetoric and a firm slap and slash in my face, that simply put, I was not needed... she didn't miss me... she even forgot I existed... I guess I was never really there for her in the first place...

And that must've been it. That must've been the goddam, loaded gun trigger. Because I went to bed that night feeling sick to my stomach, as if the girl I talk too much about had gutted my insides just a little too much... and the thing was... I woke up... but there was no sunlight... It was the damn middle of the night, and thinking back a moment, I remembered what had happened... and looking down, it was not a pretty sight... I had dreamed of having a conversation with the girl I talk too much about. I can't remember what we said... but I do remember her turning away from me. I do remember her saying that she doesn't want to be with me. And for some damn reason, for the damnest of reasons, just as she was ignoring me in my dreams like she does in reality, um... I'd like to say shit happens, but this was kind of worse... I think I exploded...

Normally, my wet dreams result in minimal collateral damage. I get some wet underwear, but nothing much. Hell, sometimes nothing comes out at all while I'm sleeping until I get my ass up and go to the washroom to squeeze it all out (which, um... may or may not spell doom and gloom for my one, two, and three testicles down below...)... but, um... But?... The thing was last night, it was different... very different... because when I woke up? I didn't just have a speck of sticky pansy dust on my dick or any sort of crap like that... but rather... it was all over my pants... it was a blast from my past... My pants were soaked with the rivers of IvanF! Literally, my underwear was stuck to the seams of my pants! It took forever for me to just pry my own pubes from the end of my ass. Literally my dick smelled as pungent as the most pineapples of super glues, and you want to know why? Because when her and I were saying our goodbyes in my dream, I remember just willingly letting it all out... I remember just willingly giving up on her, throwing in the towel, and releasing all my attention, all my tension, and all my frustration in a single, river of tears... but the thing was, in reality, my tears were down below, enough to tear a wake through my pants, to say the least... if on a Richter scale, my usual wet suspect dreams consist of a 3 or 4, then this was a 10, I shit you not... because I myself was shitting when I saw that I had ejaculated more shit than I can ever hope of shitting from my arse... and it was quite a freaky deaky, freeing feeling actually. I felt it all in my dream - I felt everything I was, everything I've ever had, just rushing out in one big gust... I felt like I was going to die... I felt as if my penis had gone in one big bang, and all that was left was this numb feeling of loneliness and holy shit excrement... not to mention the fact that my dick had literally glued itself into some, sick, pretzel spiral of a knot... and when I saw the embarrassment that my dick had caused? When I saw the destruction my penis had caused in her name, as if it were some Crusade or a gust of God's wind?... If anyone had seen the white droplets leaking from my ass?... God, I would've never been able to live down the light of day, not even with Viagra...

Short story short, I don't know what this all means. I didn't even get to experience sex last night in my dreams. But rather, I had the biggest orgasm that I've ever had, simply from watching the girl I talk too much about turn her back and walk the hell away... I don't know what this means, whether I wish she would stay, or whether I get turned on by the fact that she doesn't give a damn... I don't know. All I know, is that she's probably the first girl that my wet dreams have ever really center staged on. I don't know whether she'd find that flattering or not, and thus, maybe it would be prudent to call her the "wet dream" girl or some sort of crap like that from now on?... and I wonder, if I'll ever feel an orgasm like this again, where literally every fiber in my body was weeping out semen, simply for her, in spite of her...

And just to let you know, I washed away most of the evidence last night through toilet paper scrubbing and hell of a lot of toilet flushes... you know, I think I squirted out more cum that night in volume than my entire ball sac could ever hope to hold and handle, like a boiling kettle overclocked to burn, but that's besides the point... because it all sounds like so much goddam fun, doesn't it?... and, well... a guy who wants sex might say yes. But a guy who wants love?... well...

I'd probably still say yes, but only if I dare to dream...

Y2kk Update: Hmm... well then... I've been meaning to write this very Y2kk Update of mine for the past two or three weeks... and yet no matter how much free time I had, no matter how many opportunities I gave myself, I just never could manage to sit my ass down at my keyboard and type this update out... I guess I really don't care about updating this site anymore, now do I?... for all you two readers out there...

Or maybe I just haven't written anything for the longest damn time, because I've been waiting for a message from her, waiting in wings, for the girl I talk too much about to simply say hello... I wrote an e-mail to her maybe three weeks ago. I wrote it, because I care. The last day I saw her, she was trapped with me outside of some door she was scratching and clawing to enter. I could tell she was trying to squirm her way away from me, but she just couldn't find the person with the key to get her the hell through the door and out of my existence... the door to her destiny, I suppose... I mean, she's playing the good girl, school teacher right now... But I remember what she told me that final day, and I know I wrote about it on either my download or MSN site. I had asked her if I could write to her over the summer, and she immediately said yes. I half joked that she wouldn't respond to anything that I'd write... I knew in my heart the truth though, that I wasn't joking... But she seemed so shocked at my reaction, that I didn't believe her when she instinctively said yes. Hell, she almost looked offended... I guess I have that axe effect on her... and she definitely has an effect on me... because I guess she gave me high hopes after that, that maybe she was telling the truth... that maybe she wouldn't harbour any harsh feelings against me and neglect whatever the hell I try to send her... I was hoping that we could talk. I was just hoping that we could talk...

Hope floats, and I suck. I was wrong.

I guess it doesn't mean much in the end... for all I know, maybe she's just been too busy to respond... or maybe she just doesn't check her e-mail anymore... But if the last term has proved to me anything? It's that even though I didn't drop a bloody chopstick on New Year's Eve, the fortune of cookies simply still will not smile in my direction... I mean, all I want from her is a simple reply back, and all I get instead is silence... and a bunch of spam advertisements about penis enlargements, but I digress. Austin Powers would be proud... And I've been waiting. Waiting and writhing in wings for a message, just any message, just any word from the girl who used to talk to me too much. I've waited three weeks, and still not even a hello... not even a Halo... and my, my, my... even the hourglass is forced to follow the laws of her hands... because things sure have changed from the way they used to be, and yet I don't feel any different. I don't want to feel any different... but she obviously does, one way or another... She's the most politely vindictive, vampire of a person I have ever met. I loved that about her when she was treating all the other guys with the most dignitary form of disrespect... but, well... it's just not fun when she finally applies it to no-name me, that's all...

And the bad luck just keeps piling on... or at least, the things I endlessly and senselessly whine about just keep growing and growing and growing into more of a growing pain in my ass... Because honestly, when I failed that damn Electricity course a couple of weeks ago (the day after I sent the girl I talk too much about my e-mail), all I wanted was for her to show some sign that she cared, for her to show some sign that she gave a damn about how I did... I never wrote to her how I fared, or failed to fare, or the farce I could not fix, but the simple fact that she never wrote back to ask, is proof enough for me of where she stands, for one lifetime at least... So where else could I turn for pathos than my friends? I logged onto MSN Messenger, saw some of my friends complaining that they only got about 70 or 80 in their courses, and I decided to steal the spotlight... I decided to steal the show... and without revealing that I am still able to move onto third year, I revealed to them all that I failed a course. I revealed to them all, that I had been telling the truth all along, that I did not lie, that I do not lie, that when I claimed I did badly on the Electricity final, I was not lying... Why is it so hard for anyone to accept that I'm goddam telling the truth?... A few weeks back, they had simply scoffed off my claims. They simply magically waved their hands as proof that I did perfectly fine in all my damn courses. They didn't give a single damn about how I felt, or how I felt I did. Nobody ever trusts me when I whine. I guess nobody trusts anybody when they whine... which only serves to haunt, Helen hunt, and hurt me in the end, considering I may be the only bloody person on earth who actually does tell the damn truth when I whine...

Because I failed. And I told my friends that. And you know what they did?... the same thing they always do... the same thing they do every night... they tried to take over the world... or actually, they did the next worst thing and simply shrugged me off, claiming the obvious that I should get my exam rechecked, and tried to console me that everything will be perfectly fine in the end... they acted as if fate never happened... and, um... um?... no, it won't. No, it won't be fine. Because I failed. Because I bloody hell failed... I had warned them that this could happen. I had warned them that I could get kicked out of school. I had warned them that I was telling the truth. I had warned them that I do not goddam lie...but instead of heeding my warnings, their interests in me simply waned and declined... Because I guess it's not a matter of truth or dare in the end, now is it? It's just more of a matter, of IvanF in the middle, that I was never really one of them in the first place, otherwise one of them would actually care, now wouldn't they?... and, well...

Maybe one of them did. It took a few more days of trying to play them for fools until I finally learned the truth... the truth that at least one of my friends was playing me for a fool... He knew all along that I could pass onto third year, even though I had failed a course. He just never mentioned this fact to me as I kept trying to convince him that I wouldn't be able to move on (although I never literally "lied" that I failed the year... I simply did not openly state that I had passed... so I was telling the truth, just not the whole truth... I guess it's ironic though; I was half lying to them, in hope that they would figure out that I only tell the truth, but I digress...). So when I realized that he knew the truth, I spilled the beans to him and explained that I was trying to get some sympathy out of our friends. I was trying to get some pity out of their self righteous selves. But none of them gave a damn about me. None of them ever seemed to care that I may have failed the entire year, as none of them even asked for my bloody term average (which they should've asked for if they knew that there's still a chance that I could still pass the year)... That's when this friend of mine revealed to me, that he first learned about my failure of a fling from one of those friends who I claimed didn't give a damn. I then argued that it was probably just a news thing, just like when I talk about my friends to other friends just so I could have something interesting to say... but my friend tried to shrug the disconcern off of my shoulders, and claimed that our other friend did sound like he cared about my situation over the phone... but I guess I will never know the truth, now will I? The thing is, my friend now knows the truth, that I wish that my friends, including him, would take me seriously when I'm telling the truth... though I doubt that will lead to any changes... I don't think it's change I want. Just attention. Just a sign that somebody cares. Just the hope that somebody cares.

Or just an e-mail that somebody bloody cares... but I know I'll never get one. Not from her at least... I'll write her another e-mail soon enough, but I know it will never be enough. I will never be enough... the world is not enough. Not for her, at least... and as shiver me timbers as that makes me feel, I know that that's the cold hearted, honest to God truth. And all I can really do now is move onto a different crush, like my stupid libido of a dildo always does, whether I like it or not... but truth be told, right now, I don't want to claim that I love any other girl, or any girl at all... all I care about, is the fact that she seemed like she cared about me just one year ago. And now it's all been lost, lost in cyberspace, for reasons that I can so clearly recall, and reasons that I simply could not avoid... because all that happened, was that I was being me... Over the year, she got a good glimpse just at who I was and who I am. I was hoping that she would fall in love with me... I was hoping that she'd learn to care...

I hate hope.

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