Deep in the bowels of the earth, a sleeping entity, worn and tired, preserved and cast aside, lay at rest. Not all monsters are evil; not all undying are twisted aberrations. Some merely need the right conditions: A little love. A gentle kindness. A tender spark. One day, a bolt descends from the sky: Chance, or fate, whim, or fancy. It strikes the cold, peaceful earth, and sets a heart within it to throb once: The ancient reactions of Galvani pulse through a home, a tomb, a lost soul. One errant twitch: and then another. And another. An eye, long rusted from sleep, opens, shedding the dander and the long seal of crust and exhaustion. The earth churns, and an ancient hunger burns... for salad.

A long, heated wash with steam that mats ancient hair, tangled and pale, falling and patchy. The smell of the Sweet-Earth begins to melt again, and a low, shaking growl pulses through a stomach, unaccustomed to fullness and digestion. Something twitches: An ear? An eye? More shampoo is needed, more soap. More coursing water. The rooms are dusty, unattended for years. The chambers are lonely, the blankets and sheets thick with thick un-use. The garden is tangled with weeds, grass growing among the vegetables that have grown wild and out of control, a battle of nature over years of twisted, uncontrollable slumber, and broken dreams.

No more.

No more.

Into the hot and cleansing steam, a soft-lined brush easing the aching tangles out. A soft tea, to cleanse the sinuses, slowly and without repentance, and to warm the frigid, scratchy throat, thick with rasping breath, until some of the cold of the death-sleep unwinds from the chest and the long passage to the stomach. An unsure testing of the teeth: thus ignored, they have become unruly and unwieldy, bordering on pained. A grinding is needed--thick, hard, juicy carrot, spicy, sharp turnip, crisp, blurring lettuce. A ragged breath, and then another, toasted bread, scrambled eggs, clear, sweet water, the stuff of life.

Not every undying creature is a monster.
Some just need the spark of life, the spark of tenderness.
Some just need a stray moment to live again.

I'm posting this primarily for catharsis, because I'm struggling right now to keep my head on straight. For a long time, I've suffered from a very debilitation obsession that hounds me, troubles me, and eats at me every time I turn around. It is something I fight with constantly, and not something I think my partner understands--or could understand if I talked about it.

I'm obsessed with being perfect. Academically, personally, markedly--or, if not perfect, then somehow 'good' in some intangible way. People who suffer serious addictions are probably rolling their eyes right now at this, but sitting here, staring at the bitemark in my hand that I delivered to prevent myself from howling in frustration at my own incompetence, after coming upstairs from punching the support for the house--a compromise, since my original intent was to bash my skull against it. I took a test, and the VERY FIRST thing I did was lambast myself for my obvious mistake. The 99% on the top of the paper was literally meaningless to me. Later, I actually got 101%--the top score in the entire class--and I still was upset with myself for the questions I missed. So what made me break down to the point where I was willing to inflict physical harm on myself?

I missed a quiz. I can't make it up. At most, the grade I can get in the course is a high B. That pathetic little differentiation is enough to make me reject my well-being and damage myself. If I understood why, I'd do something--anything--about it. I hate these emotional train rides that hit me and overpower me, I hate them very much. I feel worthless, like I don't deserve to live, when I make the slightest mistake--at home, at school, anywhere. It's something that torments me constantly, and it's the primary reason I desperately did not want to sign up for additional courses this semester. I have a very hard time convincing myself--despite the knowledge of my unintentional birth and lousy origin--that I deserve the basic comforts I have.

This is.... not healthy. I know it's not. It's stressful, and frightening, and aggrivating to people who live with me. It haunts me. It's also how I've always lived.

I'm going to cross post this to other journals I own, probably, on a more private setting. I just... need some release, which writing often offers me. Sorry for the angst again.

dear genetic relatives:

there are proper and improper ways to wish someone a happy birthday.

one of the ones that is not proper is:

"Hey [name], happy birthday.

Listen, mom actually asked me to call because grandpa [name] died and she wanted me to tell you."


thanks for the well wishes.

and for ensuring i will in no way, shape, or form feel like celebrating even one god damned day out of the year, not even when i have an excuse even i can't demean or talk myself out of.

god dammit.

sorry for the angst post, folks.

So I have a girlfriend.

It's not a secret--I make sure to make it plain that I'm in a long-term, committed relationship with someone. That someone is *UTTERLY COOL* with what I do on the Internet--namely, her reaction to me mentioning a manbitch of mine was, and I quote: "Would they make a good table? Or footrest? Girl's gotta put her feet up sometimes, y'know. And they'd have to wear an apron." And she's cool with the love I SHARE with those people--the people who help define me, who play with me, who I support and who support me, who I try to reassure that life is going to get better for.

I just don't talk about her.

I don't talk about her because, frankly, our relationship is a nice, even one; because she has her right to privacy, and because I don't want her to find this place on' th googlenets. I put a lot of my more personal thoughts here sometimes, and while I don't really consider them secret--if they were I wouldn't post them--it'd be an embarrassing deal. It's got its problems--some of which I find this place helps me deal with; I won't lie, but overall, I'm not going to stop loving her.

But that also won't get in my way.

I reserve the right to like people. I reserve the right to care about people. She wouldn't love me nearly as much, I suspect, if I didn't have a powerful and driving urge to help people lower their guard, to help them relax, and to keep them happy--and sometimes that makes my friends uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable or not, I love, and am loved. I care, though I am not always cared for.

And I will never, ever give that up.

Last night, I got something of a wakeup call. No, not 'something'... I made a horrible mistake. The other person involved seemed to laugh it off, as is their right, but the truth of the matter is that it took me and profoundly shook me awake. I do a lot of complaining about the days when people promised me they would stay forever, but right now, I wouldn't blame them for leaving me--if they came back, seeing me like this.

I've gotten far too comfortable. I have a circle of friends--the Djynn-clex-ess-haya-chu-kya-peeples--but I haven't tried, actively tried, to break out of the patterns of those friendships in a long time. (Not that you all aren't WONDERFUL people. I love you all.) However, I haven't been exposed in a long time--not to a crowd of people, or to chat rooms, or to groups of people outside that area of familiarity.

It's corrupted me. Not in the 'oh god, here he goes on another six month puritanical I-know-better-than-you' binge way--in the way that I have stopped remembering the most fundamental and important rule there is. Several such rules, in fact--one being to never, ever make assumptions. I've been missing something serious--perhaps it's time to give myself a reminder that things are never universal. Or pleasant, always. Or peaceful. All we can try to do is make it that way.

So a couple days ago, while suffering one of my more insecure moments, asked someone I happen to like a whole lot if I was too vanilla for them. Because it's true, you know: I'm very vanilla when it comes to intimacy. Sometimes, I don't have the creativity or the drive to be able to fulfil some of the more esoteric tastes of some of my friends. And her response touched my heart, it really moved me.

"I thought so, at first. But then I realised that was only because you were so loving and caring."

So this post is dedicated to the people who can't always fulfil kinks, even minor ones, or common ones. It's to the people who worry if their 'mundane' taste in sex might be upsetting their partner. It's to the people who worry if they're adequate, who worry if they're not large enough or small enough, to the people who worry about their waistlines being rejected--for being too slender, or too large. In fact, this post might well be to everyone. I dedicate this post to people, furs and non-furs, fans and nonfans and Donphans alike, who wonder if they're 'right'.

What's the baseline for normalcy when it comes to sex? Some people claim it's between a man and a woman, and some people claim it's what is genetically programmed, but I'm talking about something beyond those fundamentals. What's *normal* for people, during sex? Well, that's quite a question. Orgasm? No, there are orgasm denial fetishists. Let's delve into that word, 'fetish'--on a fundamental level, it suggests a deviation of some kind that's needed to enjoy sex. Consider this, however: The case of a heterosexual male and female, young adults in their twenties, who can't imagine sex as anything beyond missionary position with the male on top.

Are they fetishists? Since they can't enjoy sex in any other capacity, my answer would probably have to be 'Yes'. And that's the most mundane position, the most widely acknowledge position I know of. So, if missionary position can be a fetish, what about, say, doggy style? Or furniture play, or pony-play? These are all existant variations. Let's extend that. What about non-sexual play? Dominance and Submission, when referred to as a lifestyle, could be considered a fetish--even when it's only a matter of comfort, not sexual behaviour. So what can we draw from this?

Every conceivable sexual or possibly even NON-sexual desire can be fetishised. Which suggests, to me, that 'normal' sex doesn't exist--which leaves us with sex. Just sex; between two parties or more, willing or not (unfortunately), delightful or disastrous. Sex with you--be you over or underweight, horned or tailed or mutated or plain, is for you to interpret. So you can *have* normal sex--for you, and it won't be normal for anyone else.

Me, I like vanilla. I like love. I like affection. And while those are hardly restricted to vanilla sexual relations, I find they leak into ANY play I make. Slowly. Continually. I can't be uncaring about my partner... but some can. And they have their own Flavour to be.

So chin up. Smile! You're normal or bizzare, it's up to what you want to see!

Last night, I got blitzed--not drunk, just bombed out and tired and not thinking straight, the way some people get, most people get, at quarter to five in the morning, and I flirted in a very wrong way with someone who didn't want it. I asked their forgiveness today, and got it, but it left something behind.

I've been bothered lately by a memory. It's a memory that comes before anyone I've known on here--before I met Essy, before I came to accept part of myself, before I knew better. It's a memory of the first furry I was ever intimate with over the Internet, and the aftermath that that meeting had.

I remember it pretty clearly. I was playing on Furcadia, and, being a curious young teen, I'd poked into the adults only section--shameful and shocking, I know, right? The statute of limitations is up on that, though, I should think. Anyway... I found my way to a boys-only bar. It was a rave-disco-pulsing-light setup theme, the kind of thing you see in art here, sometimes. I hung out there, for a while--a week, or so, I'd say, just.. taking it in. The way the people talked. The passing-through and the general chatting, and the kindness, and the comfort it had.

Because it was comfortable! it was. Everyone was friendly. No one pushed my limits, no one threatened me, and I could forget about the churning nightmare and the ongoing argument between my parents. It was a home away from home, sort of. And then I met this Otter.

He came in, late one night. Very sweet. Asked me to a private room. We talked for a while--about what, I don't quite remember. How I liked the club. How long I'd been there. How I hadn't been with anyone. And... he made advances. We wound up fucking wildly--I think I scratched into his back, and curled my toes, and felt INCREDIBLE. Someone beautiful, strong, trustworthy, someone wonderful, someone who wanted ME--little broken me, who didn't know what they wanted, who they were... I felt like the luckiest rabbit in the world. I felt like I was untouchable, like I was floating on air. He wound up having to go, and promised me he'd come back.

So I waited.

A day turned into two days. Turned into a week.

Other furs approached me. Offered things. And I told them thank you for the attention, but I was waiting for someone, someone who promised to come back.

One week turned into two weeks.

I began to worry. What if something had happened to them? What if they couldn't get on? I lost my internet at times, what if they had, too? Still, they had promised. And still, I waited.


Two weeks turned into three.

It was three weeks and four days before they showed up again. And when I came to them, when I told them how much I'd missed them, how I'd waited for them...



they told me I shouldn't have. and they broke my heart.

I was a toy to them. Just a one night stand. I didn't know; couldn't have known, some fun was all they wanted. Just some fun with a naive little bunny who didn't know better.


I felt disgusted with myself for weeks. I felt used. Wronged. I felt like everything I knew was wrong. And sometimes, in my darker moments, I still feel that way. So this goes out to all of you... to all the people who promised me 'forever', who swore they'd come back, who I helped and treated, to Serrek and Renton, to the Sparrow, to all the people who SWORE THEY'D STAY--and then disappeared and left me wondering for years if they were safe, if they were alive, if they were thinking of me, if they even remembered me.

Are you happy?

Are you happy, when I feel alone and forgotten and used?

that's the real reason i dissappeared, in november. i didn't want to feel alone and used and forgotten. i thought, you know, the move would make everything better! i'd live my own life. i'd leave my stupid unwanted desires and the sorrows i had behind.


but i couldn't.

i still love my friends. ess, and haya, and chu, and clex, and kya, and all the others who have been too good to me, better than a stupid bunny deserves.

i still have a deep and unspoken fear of being abandoned by people i love.

i still hold my collar away from anyone, anyone but me, because i think they'll only hurt me.

...i swore i'd never tell any of this. but, dammit, the only way to fight a demon is to push it out, right? so there it is. there you go.

sorry for gettin' emo.

I will never be just 'a part' of another person. I am more than a part. I am a whole--my own whole--and no one and nothing can take that from me. I will never yield to the desire or temptation to let that wholeness go--rather, by confronting it, I overpower it. It no longer rules me. I will not yield any more--not to the false desire, nor the real one that lurks under its surface--I have found meaning again. I have found the things that you swore I could not have without you, and I have seen that I can provide them without you. My chains are broken.

So, parasite, what will you do? Where will you go? I gave you the chance to change yourself--you did not. I gave you shelter of the heart, and welcoming of the spirit--you tried to seduce my lines of thought, tried to sway my heart. and never endeavoured to be more than you are now. I cannot slow down forever for you; you can no longer keep pace with me. My soul burns brightly, clear of the haze and the delusion you attempted to cover it in.

Yes, I enjoy that. And that too. But I no longer enjoy you, with your wheedling, half-baked apologies, your promise that I will find paradise over the next dune of the desert you attempted to make my life into. There is more out there than you. You cannot hold me in your blinders, and even a glimpse has broken me free of you.

Did you think I would feed you forever? That I would forget my natural place, my true hidden desires? Ones you, yes, even YOU could not succour, nor ever will be able to, desires that are not of flesh alone, but heart and sweeping soul. My chains are broken. Your blindfold has been torn from my eyes. I leave you here--alone--to burn away, or to evolve. It is no longer anyone's decision but your own.

You think I'm all about you. I'm not. You think you're the driving and primal force behind me, the focus of my life. That's a lie. I was being other before you, and I will continue after you pass. You are me. I am not you.

I don't need to hide behind you. I don't need to pretend because of you. I don't need to lie, to cheat, to pretend that I don't desire, sometimes, because you think it's thrilling or exhilarating or that the world would come crashing down if I enjoyed myself and enjoyed life.

There is joy in the leaves which blow from the trees.

There is laughter in the grass that sways in the breeze, be it an zephyr or a wintry gale.

I have joy.

I have laughter.

I have PEACE.

And I don't need you.

Quick update thing for those in the KNOOOOW.

Need to spend all of tomorrow mathing. Three laptops have had nervous breakdowns just for MEEEE, so I've been unable to do five of my math sections... due the day after today. Fun.

On that note: My keyboard died. I'm on a loaner, which is part of why I've been so scarce. The loaner has been having nervous breakdowns because of a system update; I had a video card failure scare.

Math is HARD for me.

Also, we're all moving out in two weeks.

See, those that know me know I'm in a set relationship. That person's brother is buying a house. We're moving in, that person and I, and each paying rent. Like adults. Scary, I know... I don't own a car and am petrified of driving. It's another obstacle to overcome, that's all.

I want to come back here.

Let Springs = z.

Let z = 0.

(2x^3)(4x^2)(2x)(45)

---

(z)

I am undefinable.

Some nights sex isn't enough. Some nights desire isn't satisfying. Some nights, when I'm tired, when I'm alone. Some nights, I find myself craving something and I don't know what. Some nights I don't feel right. Some nights I feel it's COMPLETELY right. Some nights...


Some nights I don't sleep. Some nights I can't weep. Some nights I wonder if my life is true. Some nights I can't stop obsessing over you.

I know it's not healthy. I know it's not normal. I know if I was sane or even rational, I'd never have nights where I felt so restless.

But no one can take it from me. Ever.

Hello, ladies and gentlemen. This is an associate of DJS speaking. I'm in the same frame, but I'm much, much older. I'm writing today because there's something special in the air tonight that's pulling me out, and so the content here may be slightly different than what you're used to seeing. The tone so far is similar enough, I'm sure, but I'm going to say something you'll never catch that rabbit say.

TO HELL WITH SEX.

I don't care if you're a bondage slave, a bukakke fetishist, a desperate wannabe master, or an aging aficionado of the even more freakish. Sex is pointless, and the only thing that matters to me is rhythm, heartbeat, and the sound of your soul. No one can touch that feeling, that sensation buried deep inside all of us, with sexual stimulation.

Do you remember my name? I remember yours.

I never forget.

I never regret, either.

I just *am*. Even if I show up a lot less these days, even if you don't hear my voice as often. I *AM*, and *I am here*.

Watch yourselves, kids.

In the depths of the rooms of my heart, a haunting melody plays. It is debussy's Clair De Lune, and it pulls me far, far ago to a time distant beyond measure; a place when I've lost all hope, and tried--desperately--to break my body.

I had failed. And, in all my sorrow, I wondered if there was anything worth living for...

and I found this scrap. This tatter of music, which stole my soul from me for a little while, and lifted the heavy mantle of sadness from my shoulders. When I heard this tune, I could cry; when I heard these notes, I was not ashamed to be weakened. There is a beautiful fragility to life, one that should always be preserved.

I never want to break that fragile beauty, any more. I cannot think of it; and am sorrowed beyond measure when it's even hinted at. I just want to find a path with even the slightest hint of that emotion--when I could smile through the tears that fell, and when the pain stopped being chained to my breast.

So if you read this, be taken back. Find that one precious memory hidden in your heart, the one buried past the everyday hustle and bustle and the noise of your routine.

Go off. Be alone.

Remember.

College is HARD. X_X

Also I'm a wussy.

Also, WTF, Konami. My zombies were the only remotely respectable deck I had built, thanks. Ass. (Ban'd some things, limited another I didn't even have yet. Yeesh.)

PS: Clex, sorry I hit and run like that. Classes = pain. I'll write more in the afternoon, night all you happy peoples

As I prepare for classes, I am reminded about a friend of mine..

...he may be in some trouble soon. I won't go into detail... but it's school related.

I can't stop worrying about them...

I'll be frank! I won;t allow one month to go by without a post.

So what has the missing bunny been up to, besides neglecting his loved ones (for shame!)? Well, he's been doing exactly what was in the last post. I have my courses, which begin on the 22nd. I still need to get my books and see if I can sign up for orientation, as well as sort out how I can pay rent if my loans won't arrive until a few weeks into the month.

It... hurts my pride, but I'm no where near the level needed to properly get into the math degree... I won't stop, of course. Odds are good I'll look for weekend work, or work through the winter, or both.

Still planning to move out with Her. However, we need to stay in county, or my school rates will shoot up... it's difficult. I'll post my regrettably lenient schedule later. Erstwhile, messages for those I care about:

The bunny has not forgotten.

Well, back from otakon.

I've already been slammed for four hundred dollar's rent for the next month. Not unreasonable. More than I had been expecting. I should have gone to her, but feh.

I need to tal--

...


no.

I need to sort out my classes, get loans, and go house or apartment hunting with Sarah.

Fuck this. Seriously, fuck this obnoxious fear that keeps writhing in me. Fuck it. I'm going to break free from these shackles, too.

I'm not kicked out (yet). Also unable to find work (yet). Recent financial woes have depressed me so much...

Otakon is coming up soon. This may be the first year I can't afford to by my loved one anything.

I wanted to buy my friends gifts this year. I want to, so badly. They mean the world to me--if you're even reading this, odds are you're one of them and I'm very sorry.

But assuming I am going to college full time, soon, I'll need a loan just to stay afloat--and I do need to build my future.

...why can't I afford to express my love for those who have it with gifts? I hate that. ...I hope they can forgive me..

I went in for a free dental consultation today, as I lost a filling.

I need a root canal and a crown.


With no insurance it'd cost $1000+.

...i'm kinda blown away.

I have until the end of otakon, the one time during the year I can meet... well, some of YOU honestly, you guys who mean so much to me... to find work. After that, I'd have to pay ~300 a month which I can afford maybe, MAYBE, three months of. But I might have financial aid by that point.

I have a hard time smiling under these circumstances. No money offers, all of you lot--you have your own lives to live--but I'm under a heck of a lot of pressure. One way or another, the old is going to die, and I'm not sure what if anything is gonna grow in its place.

Talking to everyone today made me realize how much I love and need all of you as a part of my life to stay happy and healthy and sane--well, relatively sane, at least. Especially Ess, who I've known longest, and Haya, who is MY MAN-BITCH. I wouldn't be the same without Jinjin or Kya to talk to, or that rat to blather at.

People call it real life. I call it bullshit; this life is as real as the other one. People sit on other sides of keyboards, but for as long as I've been alive, people have touched each other from a long way away--stop that snickering, you--and found hope in not being alone.

I'm scared. I'm a very scared bunny, in a way no wolf or coyote could ever scare me, in no way kinky perversions could ever startle me. I'm deep down in-bound bone-scared, genuinely afraid, that Otakon will be the end of the show, so to speak, for me--it's got that 'Finale' feel to it for sure. I'm so scared.

But I'm not alone. Right?...

Quick update:

I'm not dead, kicked out, knocked up (I'm a BOY BUNNY D:) or numb.

I've been working my tail off.

If any of you are worrying cut it out.

I love you all, but I was shot down three times today after three interviews over the week. so yeah. FFFFFFFFFF

I suppose it's only fair that I tell you all the other side of things. One of you knows the rest of the story already, but I didn't want the rest of you to worry. Unless I have a job by this Tuesday--that is to say Tuesday, june 23rd, two days from now--I will have no place to live.

As such, I've been a little busy. I've got no intention of surrendering or doing anything but hitting as many places as humanly possible, which is what I've been doing for the past ~24 hours, online and off. I just scored an interview at Sears; I can do cashiering and sales, having had experience at Macy's before. I also have an interview at amberzombie and flich on the same day. I have to contact the department store I worked at seasonally tomorrow, and later today I intend to go out looking for things in the shopping villages around here.

I might be better off looking for homeless shelters. I've been a fool to take advantage of their generosity, and I regret it to the bone. ...if this works out, Dyzz and I are going to move out once I sort out classes and work schedules.

She needs to be free.

My significant other is five years older than I am--yes, she's 28--and she has lived with her parents her entire life. It's painfully easy to forget that, because she FEELS as young as I do--late teens--though she's got a different brand of maturity to her than most people do. I can't bear the thought of her letting herself be trampled by everyone's needs for another year, and she's fractured deeply about the possibility of losing me.

I'm a low rabbit. I know I'm a low rabbit. But for some unfathomable reason, there are people online and off who depend on me. So, because of those people, if not just for myself, I can't lose here.


I've never told anyone this, but when I was about nine to twelve years old, I was playing Mario Kart late at night (Yes, the first one. Old rabbit is old.) when I got so frustrated af the obviously cheating AI, I thought about selling my soul for a lightning bolt (an ingame item.)


It showed up.

I was terrified, of course. I was young. I thought, and sometimes still wonder, if I did sell my soul for something abstract--skill in games, the bliss of the abstract escapism that books and games and sometimes even music can provide.

I won't wonder any more.

If I sold my soul, I'm buying it back, right now, with interest, through a willingness to work and a hope for a future in which I connect with living people. Yes, Her, but also Haya, and Essy, and maybe someday the others on here. I am a living thing; so I should try and act like one--a person.

But right now?

Right now I need to secure my future.

Today I put in an application for education at a community college near here. I intend to start going this fall as a full time student, and tomorrow I'm taking career placement tests to see what jobs I might enjoy with my personality.

I'm also intimidated out of my ever-loving mind.

I've wanted to go to college, vaguely, since I graduated high school. No, let me be more precise than that: I wanted to learn more. Since I came here, I've been drifting from job to job desperately, and wanting intently to avoid losing my home. I'm tired of being afraid of having no future.

I want to be wise. I want to be learned--not because I want to say 'I know everything' but because I want to say 'How much there is yet to know'. I... I don't want my life to shrivel away, a day at a time, because I was too busy playing video games and goofing around to hold real relationships and reach out to the people I love--including all of you.

Yes, I said it. I love you all.

Every one of you who knows me, fleetingly or intrinsically, I love you. Please stay alight on the earth. I miss connecting with you, playing with you, talking with you.

I'm tired of feeling alone when I know I am not. Right now, though, I need to cement myself as having a genuine, proper life--a long, happy life.

Today, after digging through Craigslist and Careerbuilder and the like, I was unfortunate enough to be scheduled for a 6:30 PM interview with a sales company.

Why unfortunate?

Because, at the time, I found the site suspicious but didn't look into it. When I called to tell the person who I had hoped could take me there, she did a google search.

And, hey, history of legal battles for unclear marketing targeting students, huh? The company in question, Vector Marketing, is a door to door sales rep, despite claiming explicitly not to be in the advert. What's more, they charge for a demokit, have required meetings, don't pay for gas or training, and only pay for actual sales appointments--which are sales pitches for overpriced knives. No thank you.

This morning someone in the house said I 'need to get off my lazy ass' and find a job.

I spent ~20 hours last week looking for work, and attempted to apply at ~40-50 places. Three of them, at most, took my application.

I wanted to kick him in the teeth... but all I *CAN* do is keep trying. *sigh*