Be excellent to each other.

I recently finished my first quarter of my second year of college. It feels strange, as life always does. More and more, time passes, and I wonder whether it really happened at all. Time passes, faster and faster, and I feel like I can no longer hold onto it. I can no longer be spontaneous, do what I want, go out and break the world. I ceased to be superman in the process of becoming stronger, but I miss the days of flying and the feeling of importance.

This quarter was spent in a bustle of studying, working, writing, reading, and just general time-wasting. There is hardly ever a moment when I'm not busy, and even fewer that I can remember as special or interesting. Time passes, faster and faster.

On the plus side, I'm writing. I'm writing well, and I'm writing a lot. It has ceased to be a chore, and becomes something more like a chore every day. I do it for fun, and this I enjoy. Stories are actually capable of finishing themselves, and my mind actually moves in time with the things that I write. As such, I can make real progress.

I also enjoyed my classes this quarter. I picked up French for the first time in three years, and since it's the first time since I discovered my love of learning, it was the first time that I realized that I enjoy it. I enjoy speaking in other languages, I enjoy seeing the connections and differences between my language and another. I may try to learn other languages in the future.

My philosophy teacher this quarter was also the first one I have enjoyed. I may have spoken of him earlier, I do not remember. Regardless, he is the most knowledgeable person I have ever heard to speak on the topic. He speaks clearly and concisely, and he teaches well. I learned more in two weeks of his class than with two semesters of class with my previous teacher, whom you may know that I hated.

This was a breath of fresh air. It is the most comforting thing in the world to know that you are not alone, that there are others like you. I am disgusted constantly, by every person that I run into, who seems to think that they are smart, yet cannot deliver a single intelligent thought. I am even more disgusted by the people who tell me that this material is "difficult", or that they do not wish to try hard at it. I am disgusted by weakness, and I try so very hard not to let it show.

I've also had a much heavier workload this quarter, what with relearning French and everything else. This is what has contributed, in part, to the sudden flight of time. Being occupied, every instant of every day. I spent hours every day in the library, and while I do not regret it, there is something that I am missing. What it is, yet, I cannot say. This is modern alienation; I hurt, though I do not know why.

There is also the issue of my recent trouble with my girlfriend. I feel like she is one of the things that is, well, not holding me back, but contributing to this life-rut that I have become stuck in. I have become less attracted to her, and I begin to feel as if I know all that there is to her. While this is grossly untrue, I know, it is a symptom of a deeper problem.

Worse, my lack of surety about the exact nature of my sexuality has also widened the chasm. She wishes to continue having sex, though I am not so sure that I wish to. We do it less, for certain, and I am less attracted to the concept, but I begin to wonder whether I want to do it at all. Once again, I feel as if I have done all there is to do, and that it is time to move on.

I am currently in the process of writing my final papers, next week being finals week and the last week before a month long break. Hopefully, I'll have time to work on writing more during this break. There is also more news to be shared, yet it is something of which I am uncomfortable speaking at the moment, and the time is late. Goodnight.

Pan-sexuality.

Over the course of this school year, my sex drive has been slowly falling.

I can attribute this to numerous things. Firstly, I was deprived of pornography for perhaps a month as a result of the loss of my laptop. Secondly, while it pains me to admit, I am becoming tired of my girlfriend, at least in a sexual manner.

It becomes harder and harder to sexually satisfy myself. The time I must spend in bed grows longer, and my masturbatory fantasies become increasingly more absurd, exaggerated and gross. The issue is that my taste has refined itself to a point beyond reality, into the realm of the ideal, where it should not possibly go.

Sexuality is becoming a strange thing for me. For the life of myself, I cannot decide whether I am a non-sexual, or pan-sexual man. For most of my life, I have labored under the impression that beauty, in all its forms, is to be revered. I have found beauty in the forms of both women and men, and in the manner in which their minds produce a personality that also factors in. I have had no prejudice. Yet, the conclusion that follows, is that everything is beautiful, and if everything is beautiful, then nothing is.

I once looked upon the world and decided that I would like to have sex with a lot of women. I was not satisfied by the concept of being tied to any one, and acted accordingly. Then, I realized that I would like to have sex with men as well. I adjusted my views. Then, I realized that many women and men are repulsed by this idea, for sex is an important act, and for them it is cheapened by sharing it with too many. As such, I found a girlfriend to share myself with, and was thus taught my first actual and practical lessons in sex, rather than random play. But then, I began to realize that my mind had moved even further. I would not like to have sex with the world, but rather I would like to be intimate with it, an action far more meaningful, intelligent, and fun, than sex. In essence, when I now see a beautiful woman walking down the street, I would rather be close friends with her, and be physically intimate, than to actually have sex.

This arises, in part, from the sort of pan-sexuality that I have in my mind. There is an ideal beauty out there, in the intellect, but not existing in the world. This is what I am attracted to, and can never have. There is an ideal of a beautiful woman, with which I would have sex, and an ideal of a beautiful man, with which I would have sex as well. But you can't put your dick in an ideal. As such, I am required to settle for the things that are actually of this world, things that are imitations of the ideal above. Some women are more like this ideal than others, these are considered beautiful. Some are about as far from it as can be, and these are considered ugly.

But for this reason, I feel as if perhaps it is no longer time to simply settle for less. Maybe sex, as the way I envision it, was not meant for this world. Perhaps, after I die, I will go to a land of ideas, and there I will be pleased. But on this earth, there is little that can do such for me. I am beginning to wonder whether the compromise is necessary, and for this reason, I cannot decide which form of sexuality I truly endorse, pan- or non-.

Certainly, this is a choice, a choice very typical of my philosophy. There are two realities, that of the ideal, and that of the real. I believe that reality is that which should truly be pursued, for the ideal has no place in relation to others, where the nature of ethics and sex lie. Yet, at the same time, in this one thing, I prefer the ideal. I prefer it, though I feel that I should not, though every philosophical belief I hold is one of utility and reality.

I am very uncertain.