Halloween has come and gone. I took pictures, but apparently there is something wrong with the auto-focus on my digital camera. This is a new problem, and I wonder how to fix it. The camera, alas, is relatively cheap and the company that made it no longer even supports them (hence the reason it was so cheap), and, even worse, doesn't have a MANUAL focus. Still, it has worked fine before, so hopefully some setting just needs to be tweaked. Another on my growing list of new things to learn to pretend I'm familiar with the digital age.

I dressed up. "Gothed out," as I put it to those who asked "Who are you supposed to be?" It was fun. It's been a few too many years since I did that on a regular basis. I forgot how many odd looks people give you, even on Halloween, if you wear a bit too much make-up and cannot even pretend you're anything but male. Of course, I work with young people who are desperate to be cool and people old enough to be my parent. Either group is typical unlikely to appreciate blue fingernail polish . . .

I had a good time. No party, and, in fact, I participated in full goth mode in my group therapy, my "Men's Group," but I enjoy getting dressed up and feeling, ummmmm . . . free, I guess. I don't quite no how else to put it. It feels like "me," and the fact that I can have even one day where no one can say too much negative about it is pleasant.

Of course, I spend a LOT of time worrying if people are judging me, so maybe I just need to get over that.

Speaking of which, I re-adjusted my profile on a free dating site (I mentioned that I was writing "joke" profiles, before) to sound less like a crazed maniac foaming at the mouth and attempted to contact a few women who sounded like they had their shit together.

Not even one response. I'm picky, and I admit that, and out of the hundred-odd profiles I sorted through I found five that I tried to contact. Two didn't even have pictures, but I liked what they had to say. I was willing to accept if only a couple responded, and maybe one continued to email me, but . . . apparently, women are pickier than I am.

A bit of a shame. I might have some astoundingly severe self-esteem "issues," but even I think I'm worth talking to. And, to be frank, I'm a natural hermit but that doesn't mean I'm not rather lonely on some days. Someone nice to talk to, or have coffee with, around my age, would be . . . pleasant.

I have baser desires, as well, and I am too obsessively honest not to admit that, but . . . one step at a time. I say "coffee," and I MEAN "coffee," and face-to-face human interaction ranks WAY above "making flippy-floppy" (gotta give credit to the Talking Heads for that amusing phrase).

OK, HERE'S how obsessively honest I am: I DON'T LIKE coffee. I LIKE tea, but "coffee" just means "find a coffee shop and hang out and talk" in this area, so while I don't mean "coffee" LITERALLY, I mean it in its OTHER standard usage. I can't BELIEVE I felt the need to clarify that point . . . What kind of neurotic weirdo AM I? No wonder I'm being ignored by "Women Seeking Men" . . .

Anyway, I move forward. My next goal is to find some quiet IRC place to converse with people, or maybe some web-based chat room somewhere. Remember how to have an normal, amiable, and benign conversation with other human beings. Maybe that's part of my problem. Frankly, I think it is. I think I . . . am a little "intense," maybe?

Spend a week in my shoes, though, and ask yourself how honest and direct you're willing to be. I tend to be obsessed with how SHORT our time here is, and how often it is interrupted with PAIN, and I can't help but . . . get my thoughts all out while I can. Tomorrow, I might no longer be able to have a connection with people. If I have the opportunity to be understood, or to understand, NOW, what is the value in waiting? It might be too late tomorrow. For me, or for the other person.

Of course, it's thoughts like this that got me kicked out of the Optimists' Club. ;)

Anyone out there have a kind and caring sister around my age (34) with a slightly warped sense of humor and a lot of patience regarding neurotic obsessions? I'm in the phone book . . .

Peace, kats and kittens, and always remember that life is short. Never be afraid to be passionate (in EVERY sense of that word) while you have the time . . .