I am in the midst of an anxiety attack brought on by sensory overload. I'm sad, my heart is racing, I want to cry, I'm getting testy. I'm taking every little thing the wrong way. And it's pissing Niky off. I don't blame her, she can't read my mind or see where I am in my head.

Thoughts are getting backed up, I can't focus on anything, the world is confusing and moving too fast and it's TERRIFYING.

Niky's stressed because baby, I'm flipping out because anxiety. It sucks.

All I want to do with this shit is curl into alittle ball and bawl my eyes out.

FML.

So, it's about that time of year when I sit down and try to give some review of the year.

Okay, so I don't actually do that. I do now.

While I managed to lose my motivation to record the entire run, this year has been one absolutely full of intrigue, drama, suspense, plot turns and character development. The past twelve months has thrown me from extreme to emotional extreme. I won't lie, a lot of this year has been dark and miserable; there are times I feel that life has taken from me more than I ever had to give in the first place. Even as the year comes to an end, I find myself sorely dissatisfied with a number of my life parameters - living situation geared for imminent failure with no clear fallback, financial situation as awful as ever despite my struggles to accomplish otherwise... there's more at play than I can really bring myself to recount.

It's not what I'd meant to do with this year.

However, the sky, for once in a very long time, is not all gray clouds. In this year I have also acquired my GED (with Honors), taught myself a sizeable range of new skills, learned more about the art of autonomy in the absence of reliable transportation, and developed a host of new interests. I've had time to investigate myself and the way I work, and I've learned a lot about controling my moods and other processes. I've boned up on my visualization and calming techniques and am happy to say that I'm very nearly back where I used to be re: mind-over-matter. I've had time to sit and ponder my philosophies, flesh out and give voice (or at least words) to my beliefs. I've gotten back into my beloved furry fandom and have made friends locally therein. I've done so many somewhat-more-than little things that I'm proud of this year, proved my resourcefulness in the face of scarcity.

I even, for a brief, shining moment could see my Happy Zero on the horizon.

But very possibly, the most important and influential positive has been my still-somewhat-new mate, Niky. Small and pretty, pleasant and creative, she's so very much everything I've wanted in a primary. Through much of the last four and a half months, she's been the bright spot that's pulled me through the dark patches. In her I've found a friend, a lover, a pet, a playmate and countless other things. It's interesting to me, this development, 'cause this girl I have known for years.

This girl I have wanted for years.

The first time she came into my life I was shy, uninitiated. I was the chivalrous, romantic fool that Becki blessedly helped me kill. The second time she came into my life, I was with Becki, and I got to watch her and wish for her.

Now I've got her.

And I'm thrilled.

More on that later though. I must run.

Coming up:

- My relationship

- Sith Logic

- Christmas

- The *other* girl in my life and why she's so tiny

To be continued,
Damion~!

Hey you guys! Go to this page and help me get stuff I picked.

http://fetlife.com/sit_on_santas_lap

Also, you can enter yourself.

. . .

That came out wrong. Don't enter yourself. That's like dividing by zero.

Unless it's masturbating. Then it's hot.

Cheers,
Damion~!

Hey there folks. If you know me and you're in CT near Clinton, I need you. I'm looking for people for Niky and I to hang out with.

I offer Booze.

IM me on AIM: ReverentSorrow

Edit: Dealt with, was a good time. But always need Options for friday and saturday night. Lemme know if you want to hang!

Goddammit.

I wish I had the stamina to sit and write. At the least to ubild full plot lines again.

I wish I could find the patience to draw again. Such images in my mind.

It would seem I'm coming up from a bit of a pit I've been in emotionally. Or at least, coming up for air. I lost the last of my girls not to long ago, and the lack of companionship, intangible as it typically was, has been killing me. For the moment, however, things seem to be going well:

- One of my longer-standing playmates seems back on my menu for the time being if I can arrange to get her here. She's actually one of my favorite people and definitely has the urge to explore. I find energy and interest in the deviant particularly attractive in a girl :p

- I've met someone local. Well, more adequately reconnected with someone local, an old friend. Someone I've had my eye on for years. She's furry, a tasty little cabbit-girl-turned-mutt. Right now, she sits in the seat of a *potential*, mind you... But we'll see where that goes. I have good feelings.

- I have the opportunity to really help someone very important to me right now. That's vague, yeah. But i think I'd have a hard time explaining it.

- Met a lovely girl in RI who's officially my latest project as far as missionary-work sounds. She's fun. And hungry ::grins::

- I just lost The Game. Thank you Cody. (For those not in the know... I'm so sorry.

Anyway, the point of this is that little things were born in the darkness, and now that I'm coming back up for breath (and 'cause one of the above mentioned happenings seems to be affecting me as a sort of muse), I've got the drive to develop some of them... But grr not the stamina!

Anyhow...

Damion developed, and he acquired a couple new alternate versions. One of my favorites is sort of an Kingdom Hearts fan OC, Damion gone Heartless. I'll have to deal with the Nobody, as I'm a stickler for mechanics... But eh. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. It's more of a visual thing than a story thing anyhow, hence the wishing I could still draw.

I've worked up an alternate fursona who I'm tentatively calling "Rags". He's an anthro coyote with dingy brown fur, dressed always in worn, second-hand clothing. The iconic ensemble at the moment is boot-cut brown corduroys over beaten combat boots; a black hoody with one of those velcro necklines that's always open and a hood that's slightly oversized so it bells; a faded olive green overcoat in the British military sort of style; and a pair of chenille gloves who's fingers have ripped open so they're essentially fingerless. He's what I'm terming an astral bum, able to step through time and reality, visit other plains. I've got a bunch of elements built for this character's storyline, including the "Clockwork Gods", creatures built from the wreckage of the machine that is reality at the end of all being, and their empire after everything.

New powers, new world mechanics, new ideas... So much new!

Why can't I write it down?!? T.T

Also, have had some job stupids lately. But for now just the happies.

Cheers,
Damion~!

I've just finished watching volume four of 'Heroes'.

It started out shaky, but oh dear god the finale.

Oh dear god the finale.

You see, some point during volume three (that's the first half of season three), a couple high-ups got fired. I think NBC did the right thing; suddenly the series has some manner of direction. Jarring at first, as the aforementioned direction was sort of *wrenched* into place... But all and all, it came together nicely. It started as sort of a broad commentary on our actions abroad and ended with the absolute confirmation of Sylar as my favoritest villain ever. It's the first time a character has been so deliciously and perfectly, *perfectly* evil that I he made me squee (sorry Anna) [EDIT: First *live action* villain; See Light Yagami from Death Note]. The the finale's events treated his character nearly made me cry, and the way they lead into the next volume gave me a case of the giddies.

I will say there was one bit that miffed me; a some-what epic final battle was executed via light show from behind closed doors. It sucks and it was rather anticlimactic... But I get the feeling it was due to budgetary constraints rather than planning.

If you've lost faith in the Heroes saga and you've *not* seen the show to-date, I would certainly recommend doing so. It may be a tad soft 'round the middle, but I think it's getting back in shape.

And wicked new plot twists definitely abound. ^.^

Cheers,
Damion~!

So I got a twitter. www.twitter.com/dabigbadwolf

Yeah, I know. But why not right? It's something else to do with my phone.

Hey folks, I've got a question for you:

I know I've got some creative fuckers on my friends list. So I'm wondering, what are some of the ways you get through the occasional bout of artists block? I've had a bad case of it that's lasted for the past few years, and I'm about ready to get out of it.

I'm not looking for titles of books to help me here, I can find those on my own. I want to know what you guys do.

Cheers,
Damion~!

So, ladies and germs, finally on my way getting my GED. This Tuesday, I start going to bi-weekly practice courses. The guidance councilor I talked to told me I could, with my high school transcript as it is, almost certainly take the test and pass... But I want to make sure. When I take that test I want to take it once and only once. No real reason. There's a waiting period, yeah... But that's really only a nuisance. I suppose it boils down to pride and laziness.

Maybe a bit of stubbornness. Dunno.

So things are finally rolling. Job market the way it is, I get the distinct impression that all this'll do is give me a whole new range of jobs to not get hired into. For the immediate future anyhow.

In the meantime, it'll be nice to feel like I've gotten something done. There's a definite lack of that lately.

Also, I may be getting a secondhand laptop in the near future. As per my usual M.O., it's not going to be the pinnacle of technological advancement... but Hey-soos Cree-sto, we all know I don't give a shit about a machine being obsolete. If it's something that works and I can make use of, it's fucking nirvana.

And anyone who does complain when someone's nice enough to give them an expensive piece of equipment they didn't have before ought to have rocks surgically grafted to their sexual organs.

...

Sorry, first thing I thought of.

Cheers,
Damion~!

Happy St. Patty's day, drinkers! May you wake up in places you've never been with people you've never met, and may your rate of clothed-ness be questionable.

Live it up for me, folks!

Hey! Listen! Listen real closely!

No, seriously, this is important! It's *HUGE*!

Okay, everbody, okay... listen!

Pigeon shit.

That is all.

-Damion

Hold onto your hats, folks, I'm gonna whine/bitch.

So, today is the 19th. In about nine days it'll be two months, my being back in Westbrook. I've gotten no response from at

least two dozen Job applications. The reality of things are starting to set in. And I am tired.

I've been hanging out pretty much daily at a local diner, drinking pretty well the best coffee in the area for $1.59 (free

refills). My good friend Val and my some-what new friend Michelle (I'm sure I've misspelled that) have been my only regular

social outlet, bless their hearts. I've just been informed that I have to cut that back because the owner has taken notice

and does not like my loitering about. I am not happy about this.

At home,I am still without hot water, still without heat (save for the single oil heater we've got going). The scariest sound

in my world, as I've told two people already, has become that of rain falling on our roof. It is a sound I used to adore, a sound that used to bring me peace. Now, it's a sound that could mean the loss of our last electrical outlet,the loss of *all* heat and what little luxury we have. It's a sound that could mean the termination of our refrigerator, halving food supply. At the very least, it means that the water has come one downpour closer to being more than just moldy stains all along the walls and ceiling tiles. One downpour closer to being streams of water that drip and run and pool and rot and destroy.

I have not showered since the move. I feel the filth all over my skin, along my scalp, in my most private places. The way things are, cold-or-microwaved sponge baths just don't cut it. Eventually it's just moving the scum around. I have, though, finally found a not-entirely-rusty razor, so I've been able to keep my beard in check for the past two weeks. I must remember to put that on the shopping list.

I am lonely. I am a social creature. I a ma man who needs people, craves them, takes comfort in them. As much as social anxiety *has* started to play a larger part in my life than it has in the past, I still need people. I especially need people to care about, and more and more, everyone is finding new, better distractions than me. The people I love, the girls I adore, are drifting so far away. I suppose, maybe, it bothers me more because the actual physical contact that means so much to me has been absolutely absent for as long as it has... But that doesn't change that it hurts.

What happened? More aptly, what's happening? I had so much. I was proud of that; I had so many beautiful things and beautiful people in my life. I was a father stuggling to make a perfect little boy's life just that - perfect. I was council and lover to the most gorgeous girls I have yet seen. I was happy with where I was going, the world which I was starting to find my way into.

And it... just... stopped. Dead.

And this is terrible, this world of mine. It's empty and it's cold and there's no one real, no one tangible here. I've become this pathetic, dirty little man (despite my stature), living with my mother in a single area of almost-living space put to shame by colonial one-room school houses; A leaky tin box permeated with filth so intense I fear food preparation, for fear that I might become ill and find myself on the floor of a small, dank, light deprived bathroom in front of a toilet that... that I don't even know how to describe. My mood swings are coming back something fierce, and now I have no one to hold onto, to caress, to lose my mind with while the worst of things pass.

Look, I warned you I was going to whine.

I'm trying to make this place better, bag by bag, foot by foot... I found another mouse today. Mostly dessicated, like the last one. A bit less intact. I kept finding little bits of it while I cleaned the area, and oh my *god* the smell of carrion. Cleaning has come to a standstill, however, for need of more trash bags. A box of twenty-five big black trash bags just gone. In a month.

All and all, I look at the world around me, look at myself in the mirror, look at my position, my lack of means and I see a man, a situation, that even I, the king of open-mindedness and magnate of understanding, wouldn't want to touch. I see a filthy little boy who I would turn away from and ignore.

And I despair.

I don't want to be told "I'm going to get through this". I don't want to be told "Things are going to get better". I know that, believe me. What options are open to me? What choice have I got? Things get better or I rot. You, all of you, should know I'm not one to let that happen, as long as it's in my power. The problem isn't that I think things aren't going to get better.

The problem is that they're going to stay this way for a long time. The problem is that they're going to get far, far worse before they do. The problem is that I have no one, no tangible presence in my life beyond my mother-cum-roommate. The problem is that I cannot call, cannot touch, cannot see anyone. The only elements of the outside world that I get are my messages, every Tuesday and Thursday. FaceBook, GMail, MySpace, here... That's the whole of things. And maybe it's just me, but y'ever notice how no one keeps up correspondence anymore? From week to week, I can count on one, count 'em, one message from one person consistently, and thank goodness for sweet, sweet Devon.

However, I *am* willing to believe I'm demanding too much from the world. At any rate, it's not a judgement call; people have lives and priorities and obligations. I'm not so selfish as to expect otherwise. But I remember a time, y'know?

I don't know. I just... I had all these dreams. The helper, the councilor, the alpha, the corruptor, the lover, the what-have-you. I thought I'd gotten so close. When I found the play parties, the scene, I thought I only had a few more steps until I'd gotten into the right groove, caught hold of the path that, even today, I aspire to walk. The carnal missionary, the Big Bad Wolf. Papa Rob.

I've just...

I've fallen so far. And down here, I have no one. At least, no one real.

Ah, but I run the risk of repeating myself, and I doubt anyone's still reading.

I suppose there's more, but I've just lost motivation, and I've still so much to do this evening before I go home.

For all my bitching, I hope all of you out there are making it through. What little I do have I owe mostly to you.

And I thank you.

Cheers,
Damion~!

Two LJ profiles, neither of whom I know and both of whom have identical posts, just added me and a bunch of my friends. I know it had to be through me 'cause most o' my friends here are in no way related to each other.

I is a confused Dami-Wolf! >.<

Cheers,
Damion~!

So, there's this user who posted a comment to my writer's block named suckmyanarchy. "She smiled deviously" on my lust post. She made a post re: wanting love that I wanted to respond to... But it turned out much longer than I intended.

So I'll post it here.

"Love is indeed a wonderful thing, but the pursuit of ought be commenced with caution. How often it is that eagerness spoils so intimate a quest as that for love, that fools the young into expecting longevity from relationships forged in years that yield only impermanence. How easily we let ourselves believe that there is only one sort of "true" love, that it does not fade, and that it will last forever. We trick ourselves and lie to feelings of doubt and notions of unfulfilled needs, we insist to the nagging worries that "Yes, this is the companionship that I *should* want". We hate ourselves and our partners for looking at others, for not finding everything we want in each other.

All to frequently is this so.

I do not disavow the validity and glory of love; it is a beautiful, rewarding thing. So much so that one is hard pressed to believe it sprung from humanity. Love is a powerful, powerful thing.

But there is danger in not being sure what love is."

Anyone who knows me knows I'm a proponent of Lust. I don't, however, so often go into where I stand on love.

Love to me is alot like fire: a dazzling whorl of light and beauty that, unless respected or treated with caution, is very capable of tremendous amounts of destruction. Am I so naïve as to think Lust is happy-happy-fun-safe? Of course not - each burns as brilliantly, and dreadfully, as the other. But the bit that makes love, I think, so much more volatile is (ironically) how we've romanticized the notion.

From childhood, all types of media wants us to believe that Love supercedes Lust in power, intensity or purity. our books, our Religions, our television, our heroes, even our over-peers and upperclassmen talk of true love, of some grand, trancendental force of emotion that somehow nullifies all notions of sexual interaction with members of our preferred sexes. The truth is, at least as far as I've found it, is that neither of the two dominant forces of attraction, Love and Lust, is more powerful or pure than the other. A big problem seems to stem from a concept of a one infallible “True Love”; that there is one type of romantic love and one alone. This love is a very wholesome, esoteric sort of thing, and is entirely dedicated to one person, from who's side you'll never want to stray.

In fact this type of love does exist. I have seen it, I have seen people in it. Trouble is, more often than not, it's been set into us that this is the only type of love there *is* to feel, and that any other sort, shall we say, shade of love we might think we feel is invalid. It's been my experience, however, that there's an infinite number of shades of romantic love, ranging in visceral intensity. Also of a variable nature (though this is becomming a very old topic of conversation to most of the few people who read this journal) is the *number* of people for which one may find oneself posessing of romantic feelings. While it's one of those concepts either you "get" or you don't, believe me, loving one person just as equally as another (and being able to function and lead a fulfilling life thusly) is perfectly plausible. It's not for everyone, polyamoury, but it's still a variety of love that may be felt.

That the world is so eager to feed us the notion of a "True Love" far too frequently leads youth into a dangerous conviction that it is their duty to find such a relationship immediately out of the starting gate. As stated above, there is alot, alot, *ALOT* of denial that goes into young-adult relationships, a refusal to accept the role that hormones play in attraction and attatchments. The imminent failure of young relationships is given far to much sway, and I maintain that anyone under the age of twenty five is a fool to believe that their relationships stand a "Good" chance at being life-longs. It does happen, but it is so rare an occurance that expecting it is setting oneself up for heartache.

Me, I'm 21-going-on-22 and polyamorous. There are a few girls I'm *very* attatched to and, I'll admit, love in some way or another.

But my one, true love is, most assuredly, my Lust.

And so far, we seem to be having a pretty good relationship.

Cheers,
Damion~!

Really? Do I even have to answer this one?

Lust. A thousand, million times over. And enjoy it, every single time.

I strongly advocate you all do the same.

Alright, folks, some bad news. Itlooks like I'm heading back to mom's house.

For those who don't know what that means, I'm moving to a place with no heat, no hot water, no phone, no internet and barely any electricity to speak of - and even that could go at any time. It does, however, look like I might have some manner of work situation set up down in Westbrook at the gas station I used to work at. Night shifts no less. Thank goodness for connections.

So bottom line is I'm going to be very hard to reach for an unknown amount of time. I'll try to do something, I don't know how achievable the local library is anymore. But don't stop sending me e-mail and/or facebook messages. Also, I can get mail and such at

Robert Hazen
One Woodsedge La
Westbrook, CT 06498

So here's to what was. It ws a good run, and I hope I'll resurface someday. Right now things look awfully bleak.

That's it. I hope to talk to you all soon.

Cheers, be well, and all the usual closings I use,
Da Wolf-Man
a.k.a. Damion Ruthers
a.k.a. TheRagingKing
a.k.a. Reverend Wagga T. Nootboy
a.k.a. Rob~!

We have a kickass new president.

I have no job.

The world is better. I am not.

Go world.

Fuh-huck me.

End transmission.

Damion.

Edit: I just realized I already made a zealot post. Sorry for the repeat material... But again. It irked me.

Militant atheists are just as fucking bad as Christian/Muslim/Insert-Theology-Here zealots. Holy fucking Jesus, both of these groups need to fucking back off.

Don't get me wrong, I don't outright hate religion or lack there of. I consider *myself* a fairly religious person (though damned if the people around me get that; the general perception of me is still that of an average hornball, but that's another rant altogether). But zealots piss me right the fuck off. And yes, there are Atheist zealots. And they are just as fucking ridiculous and oppressive as the folk they rage against.

The only mainstream religion that hasn't become downright ass-fuck annoying is Judaism. I have yet to see a Jew screaming about how anyone's going to Hell if [Situation or Group X] doesn't conform to God's divine will. Nor have I seen one blathering on about how anyone who doesn't think like they do is wrong and/or immature. Granted there's the bit about not marrying outside the faith and such, but if there *is* oppression, at least they keep it *inside* the fucking community.

If someone out there knows different, do let me know. But until then, in my book, the Jewish are winning the Faith-off.

That's it for now. No point. Just bitching.

Until next time!

L'Chaim,
Damion~!

Okay folks, It's Saturday!

As promised, I have the results of the “Reclamation Project” survey. A big thank you to everyone you participated; I'll try my damnedest not to let you down!

After counting the votes of Twelve Marvelous people, it looks I'll be working on the “Stain of Faith” story. It topped the bill with a whopping six-and-a-half votes, the next closest being Original Character One-Shots with three and a half, with the Worlds Collide Anime Fanfic holding at third with two and a half, and the Silent Hill Fanfic at the bottom of the pile with a grand half a vote.

As I said before, I will post the first segment (I hesitate to call it a chapter for now) two weeks from now, giving myself room for a week of brainstorming and one for writing. It will be hosted on Fictionpress under the penname Damion Ruthers. As soon as I get my password back >.<

I'll post links, no worries.

So here's to the future, gang. Remember that this will probably suck a good deal at first. May even remain suck for a good time. Or altogether. But it's pointless not to try, eh?

I'll keep you posted!

Cheers,
Damion~!