Walking out my front door this morning, I was able to confirm what I'd suspected last night. It was a big tree.

I got pretty lucky, though. The tree barely reached my house.

This section of gutter is toast. I've got a guy coming out to see if there's any damage to my actual roof. He'll also give me an estimate on repairs. This is the same guy who replaced my entire roof a few years ago.

This hole in my yard is going to be a pain to fill, I just know it.

I got lucky.

As it turns out, I have spies everywhere. And I didn't even know that I had them. I thought all I had was people spying on me. Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean I'm wrong about that.

Things aren't as bad as they've seemed. They're still not good. They still suck, actually.

But, thanks to my spies, I feel better about something that's been kind of nagging at me for several months. Not a big problem in the grand scheme of things, but enough to distract me from what's really relevant.

And, speaking of what's really relevant. I feel a little tiny bit better about that, too. Thanks to another spy. I still don't really know what's happened, but I now know that it wasn't this one stupid thing which I'd never even seriously considered except during my darkest moments. So, that's cool. One less thing to worry about.

Anyway, spies are cool. I highly recommend them.

You know what a tree sounds like, when it falls onto your house?

Well, I'll tell you. I'm an expert on the subject, now.

It sounds like a very loud clap of thunder, except that it doesn't rumble on and trail off the way that thunder does. Nope, it's pretty much a loud BOOM! and that's it. Or, in the case of a tree hitting my house, it's a loud BOOM! followed by the sound of three cats hauling ass to the basement.

When it happened, I was trying to take a nap on my couch. I'd just about managed to fall asleep, and the house lost power. Then, the hail started. Itty-bitty little balls of ice, maybe a quarter of an inch in diameter. They were adorable, bouncing across the wood of my deck like spilled Skittles or something.

Then, the BOOM!

I still haven't really gotten a good look at the tree. Or of the damage it surely caused. It's pretty fucking dark outside. It's a big fucking tree, though. One of the tall skinny variety that populates the Northwest corner of my yard.

I'll take pictures tomorrow sometime. And I'll need to get somebody up here to give me an estimate on repairs. I know there'll be some repairs. I could see that much, even in the dark. But, there's no damage visible from inside my house, so it could certainly be worse.

There's this thing that I'm not supposed to write about.

Not that one thing about which I keep writing, even though I'm not supposed to. A completely different thing. One which I've been able to more or less successfully steer clear of for years, except for a couple of minor, trivial, and harmless entries.

I fear all that may change, and that it may change soon.

I really hope it doesn't come to that. I'm really too old for that kind of shit.

This entry, such as it is, brought to you by:

Bluegrass Russian Imperial Porter

(bottle) Pours black, with a minimal tan head that faded quickly. Light aroma of roasted malts and chocolate. Flavor was pretty much the same - roasted malt and chocolate. The finish was a little drying, but otherwise the 11% ABV is hidden very well. A very good beer.

WeirdGirl and I slept until after 10:00. We probably would have slept even later, except my sister called with some disconcerting news. Everything, in the end, so to speak, seems to have turned out well. So that's cool, but it did make for several hours of at least slight trepidation.

After WeirdGirl left, I settled into what's become my normal Sunday routine. Doing laundry. Shooting pool. Watching movies. Glaring at my phone.

But that last thing, I think I did more out of habit than out of any real sense of anticipation. I certainly never expected it to make it's little woo-hoo noise. And, of course, it never did. I was oddly okay with its silence, though. Just like I was oddly okay with the silence than ran through my head all day today.

The silence from my phone was familiar. The silence in my head? Not so much, but still, okay.

See, I don't know what happened, but I have to assume that there must have been a good reason for it. I stated my case, for whatever that might be worth. Nothing changed. So I jumped into my time machine. I was right, it's not so bad.

Anyway, some things are funny to me. They have to be funny, lest they be tragic. And I've got enough tragedy, thank you very much.

The thought that a pretty face, or a sexy body, or a friendly personality - the thought that any or all of these things might be enough for me - that thought borders on hilarious.

There's always something missing, it seems. That thing which is intangible and all-important. That's the thing for which the need permeates me. I've found something to fill that need once, twice, maybe three times. I may never find it again. That would be sad, I think.

Desire is more important than satisfaction. Because you can never really have the latter without the former. If you try, it inevitably feels hollow and empty. It feels like a lie, and for good reason.

WeirdGirl and I talked about this stuff for a while, our breathing still synchronized, in the late hours before sleep took us. We've discussed it before, and it's starting to sink in, the things that I say. She's finally starting to understand me, and her understanding will probably signal the end of this. Whatever this is.

Some of the time, a lot of the time, I imagine that people will read my drivel and figure that I've been drinking. A lot. And on those occasions, I imagine that people will blame alcohol for my drivel.

Perfectly understandable. Usually wrong, but understandable.

Tonight, less than an hour ago, I wrote some drivel. I have been drinking tonight, but I haven't drank very much.

Nope, tonight was a tame night, alcohol-wise.

Now, I'm sitting here waiting for my doorbell to ring. After it rings, I will be able to forget the last several hours, and I will live in the present for a while. Until we awaken in the morning, physically refreshed and emotionally numbed. After some caffeine and nicotine, reality will set back in for both of us.

It will be nice, while it lasts. But, in so many ways, too many ways, it will be a lie.

That's pretty good timing. She's here, and just when I was about to spout some more drivel.

There's a pattern to it, I think. Or at least a series of relationships; one stacked onto another. Towering skyward, but unsteady.

The base is quite stable, thank you very much.

---

Last night, I dreamed of a conversation in which I was asked a question. I've dreamed about this conversation before, and the last time, I gave a decent yet indecent answer for that particular dream moment.

But that time, in that dream, it was someone else asking the question. This time, in this dream, there was a new person asking with both fear and hope in her voice, "What is it you want with me?"

Last night, I awoke thinking that the question itself, coming from that particular person, was flawed. By merely asking the question, she answered it. I wanted what I had at that moment. Which, at that moment, was her presence, and her acknowledgement, and her conversation. I wanted her to ask me that question, just as I'd wanted her to pause a few seconds earlier. Just as I'd wanted her to smile a few minutes before that, and breathe throughout the time we were spending together.

Awake now for several hours, I'm struggling a bit, trying translate these muddled thoughts into words so that I will understand them when I read them later.

---

Whatever it is, as long it's more than nothing. During those wonderful times, when it's more than nothing, I'm perfectly happy. And I'm too busy being perfectly happy to think of anything more. The base is stable.

It's only during those other times, when there's nothing, it's only during those times that my wants start to stack on top of each other. Presence, below acknowledgment, below conversation, always upward. Friendship, below acceptance, below lust, below passion, below love.

The base is stable, but the tower itself teeters. There's an almost constant rain of debris falling from the top. And then, when nothing is finally replaced with something, the entire thing comes crashing down.

But not the base. The base is stable.

What is it that I want?

Sometimes I want exactly what I have, as long as it's not nothing.

It's only when I have nothing that I find myself wanting everything.

The place was pretty freaking packed. I'd been expecting a big crowd. Friday nights are always crowded, plus they were having another art show out in the special people section. The entire place was packed, often standing-room-only, for most of the night.

But that was okay. MusicalYuppieDude gave me a seat on the sofa when I first arrived, so I didn't have to stand. Also at least half of the non-regulars in the crowd were girls in various stages of hotness. Most of them were hippies, but hot hippies. There also seemed to be a very unlikely proportion of blonde girls.

When I first arrived, I waited in vain for a bartender to make his way to me. I ended up going out to look at the art for a while. As in most art shows, there was some good stuff and some bad stuff. It's all subjective. I didn't see any paintings by either MisunderstoodGirl or NotHideousGirl, so that was a little disappointing.

They also had a small beer stand set up at the art show entrance. On the way back to Rich O's proper, I glanced at the labels on the taps.

Cone Smoker!

Yay!

I guess they'd saved some just for the art show.

So, guess what beer I had.

Guess!

Cone Smoker!

Yay!

It was only a 12-oz pour, into a plastic cup, and it took about 15 minutes to pour it, but it was still yummy (3157).

When I got back to Rich O's proper, I had a brief conversation with LaptopGirl, who I hadn't seen before but who was sitting at the kiddie table with some guy I don't like. The conversation was indeed brief. It consisted of her saying, "Hi," followed by me saying, "Hi."

Oh, how the mighty have, once again, fallen.

My next beer, because I didn't want to have to wait so long for another Cone Smoker, was an NABC Flat Tyre (153). In fact, because of some ordering confusion, I was presented with two pints of Flat Tyre at the same time. So that's all I had for the rest of the night (173).

The group in the living room talked about various stuff for a while, and at one point we found ourselves playing euchre. Actually, we all spent the night trying to teach euchre to this one dude. He didn't have a nickname before, and I'm going to pick HairDude for no particular reason. Also playing/teaching was SmooshDude, and PlantDude.

It was a fun night. At one point PlantDude's fiancé, NiceGirl, took his spot in the game, and NiceGirl and I proceeded to win about 7,999,999 of the next 8,000,000 possible points. NiceGirl and I would apparently dominate the Professional Euchre Tour, if such a thing existed.

It was a fun night.

I would say that, if you think you know me at all - even if it's only from what you've read in this journal - then you would be fully justified in being proud of me right now.

Me? I'm not quite so sure. But then, I know more about the situation than you do. I alone, I think, really know what's at stake.

After tonight, I'm certainly not disgusted with myself, as has so often been the case lately. I did a tiny thing, which I felt needed to be done, and so I got to come home with a slight feeling of accomplishment. Instead of that feeling of cowardice to which I'd become so accustomed.

I await any ramifications with a little bit of fear, and a little bit of anticipation. Odds are, there will be no discernable ramifications at all. But I'm the only one who suspects that it was all a waste of time and effort. Others silently applauded me tonight, after only a little bit of encouragement from me.

I'm not sure if I did something good, and I'm not sure if I did something bad. What I'm sure of is that, finally, I did something.

Finally.

I was kept busy, given something important to do. That was a good thing, I suppose. It gave me a little bit of detachment from what was going on. Just a little bit, though. Just enough.

This was in August. My sister, Dina, asked me to use my camcorder to tape her son's funeral. Not because she thought that she might ever actually get up the nerve to watch it again, but instead because she didn't want it to just be over and done with. As funerals usually are so wont to do.

There's a funny thing about that request Dina made. She could have the filled-in the blank in the phrase, "Please __________ Cory's funeral," with anything at all, and I cannot imagine any possible thing that I would have refused, or even hesitated at.

Please streak at Cory's funeral.

Please sing "I Am Woman" at Cory's funeral.

Please smear peanut butter all over yourself, and make a pass at every woman over 60 at Cory's funeral.

Please pretend to be homeless, and beg for change at Cory's funeral.

I'd have done any or all of those things, if she'd asked on that day. But, distracted as she was, she didn't ask me to do anything embarrassing like that. She missed out on that golden opportunity. She just asked me to tape the thing. So that's what I did.

I stood over near a wall, out of the traffic and near an electrical outlet. Lacking a tripod, I put my camcorder in my left hand. And I held it there for an hour. My arm got pretty sore near the end, but that was the price I was paying. That price was, of course, nothing compared to that which Dina was paying, so I stood my ground and I did my favor for my sister.

The chaplain, a cousin of ours, conducted his somber service. Cory's friends from school played songs and sang. Some of them got up and talked for a bit. Relatives that I didn't even know existed - such as Cory's stepsister - got up and talked for a bit.

That, in particular, tore at me. I so wanted to fling my camera to the ground and somehow carry that poor girl away from the terrible new reality in which she'd suddenly found herself. But, I didn't. I had something important to do. I had to tape the thing.

Each time, after someone would speak, the chaplain would wait for a bit to see if there was anyone else who wanted to say anything. The room would be quiet, as we all waited to see if someone would stand up and walk forward.

I don't know if anyone really expected it to happen. I know that I certainly didn't. Someone finished speaking. The chaplain waited. The room was quiet. A couple of soft sobs off to my right, where Cory's closest friends sat. An incongruous giggle way off to my left, at the back of the room. But that was it.

As quiet as it was already, that was nothing compared to what happened next. It was as if silence became a force, a fog that enveloped the entire room in a matter of a few seconds. The same few seconds, in fact, that it took for my sister Dina to stand up and walk to the pulpit.

I don't remember what she said. I could, I suppose, go downstairs right now and watch my recording. My camera hasn't moved since a couple of days after the funeral, when I burned DVDs for those who wanted them. But I'm not ready to watch the thing. Maybe, some day, I will.

I don't remember what she said, because I wasn't paying attention anymore. Not to what was being said, anyway. I'd caught, in my eye, via the screen on my camcorder, I'd caught sight of something surreal and awe-inspiring. A mother, my sister, standing near her son's lifeless body, somehow managing to stay strong enough to breathe, and stand, and walk, and speak.

I have never been so proud of another person. It was very nearly paralyzing to me, the force of emotion that hit me when Dina started speaking. I remember thinking, There's no way I could ever be that strong. No way at all.

I've been through some shit in my life, but nothing compared to that. I would have crumbled into dust.

I've often said, especially since that day in August, that my sister is the strongest person that I've ever known..

And that's why I say it.

I deny this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

Today was, of course, AlliDay.It wasn't too bad at The Pub. A little more crowded than I'd have preferred, and one shithead took my seat while I was outside making a phone call. But I got to talk to AlliGirl in little snippets, and her sunny disposition helped to brighten my mood a little. Also, it was freaking cold today.

---

I refuse this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

I also found out something pretty interesting and a little intriguing. Some little gestures, which I never really paid any attention to at all, back when they were happening. I've always admitted that I have a problem taking hints. This may have just been more of that, but I really think that it was more of a timing problem. Like, six hours earlier, and everything might have turned out quite differently. But, by the time the gestures started happening, it was too late. I was utterly distracted by then. Oh well. I'd have only given us about a week, anyway.

---

I ignore this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

After work, I stopped at Rich O's for a beer and a pizza. I had several insane minutes when I first arrived, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. Just me, being weird. Plus, I had PearlGirl look, and she verified what I'd been babbling about.

The resemblance was really uncanny.

---

I reject this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

I might get to see HatGirl this weekend. It's been a million gazillion years. Seems that way, anyway. I hope hope hope I get to see her.

---

I doubt this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

Tomorrow is Thursday. VacuumLady will come and clean my house and terrorize my cats for a while. I'll come home and immediately start slobbing the place up again. It's the kitchen that I can't seem to keep up with. And my bedroom. Those damn piles of laundry are back with a vengeance.

---

I am riddled with holes, yet I still stand. It's not that I'm particularly strong, I don't think. That's not why I'm, successfully so far, refusing to let myself fall. Again. Over this. It's just that I know that my falling would serve no purpose except to make things worse than they already are. And it would also prove Everyone On Earth right. I refuse to fall and, by refusing, I laugh in the face of Everyone On Earth. The fuckers.

---

I've been having a problem with sleep lately, and I think I've figured out why. Because, waking up to this new reality, that's the worst time for me. This is something that's certainly different, this time around.

My mind still clouded by the fading fog of sleep, only the most powerful thoughts shine through. And I feel myself falling, sliding, de-evolving into that past version of myself that nobody liked very much. That I didn't like very much. So I fight with everything that I have, and it always seems touch and go for those first few minutes while the fog fades away. Then, somehow, so far anyway, I emerge triumphant.

So, I don't think it's really sleep that's the problem. It's the fear of waking up that's getting to me.

---

I accept this new reality, and still, it keeps fucking relentlessly slamming into me.

This entry brought to you by:

Stone Vertical Epic 07.07.07

(bottle) I'm calling this a Belgian because I don't have any better ideas. Cloudy orange when backlit. No foam. An aroma of citrus that was a little bit intoxicating all on its own. Flavor of malts and oranges and light hops. This was a surprisingly good beer, as I usually don't care for citrus. Almost yummy.

Like, I know some girls. I may have mentioned girls from time to time. I look at some of these girls, and I see something indescribably wonderful. But, some people, when they look at the same girls, they see a crazy person, or a whore, or a stuck-up bitch. They see a waste of space.

Sometimes, it's reversed. Sometimes, I'm the only one seeing the bad side of people. It's not very often, though, and I'm probably right about those assholes anyway. It's Everyone On Earth that's wrong, I think.

They see sinister motives where none exist. They see affection where none exists. They see lies and selfishness where none exist.

It's, like I said, fascinating to me. But not in a good way.

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to write about.

For a long time, Everyone On Earth has, at one point or another, told me to get over it and move on.

I envy the people who can do those things. Apparently, they're fairly common abilities. I mean, just look at the divorce and remarriage rates.

Let's ignore for a second the fact that I'm divorced, okay? It's not really relevant.

Thanks.

To review:

Step One - Get over it.

Okay, that's not really a choice, is it? Getting under it, so to speak - that was never a choice, not if it was real. So why should the opposite be true?

Step two - Move on.

Seems obvious to me that step two is doomed to failure unless step one has been accomplished. After all, it hardly seems fair to whoever you move on to. Ask MixedSignalGirl if she thought it was fair, what I put her through. Don't get too close when you ask her though. She bites.

So, the problem is with step one. The whole get over it crap. You manage that feat, and the rest is a cakewalk.

Do cakewalks even happen anymore, or am I just showing my age?

But I digress.

Right off the top of my head, I see three ways to get over it. One way would be, and this would be ideal I think, one way would be to just meet someone new, and be overwhelmed by them. That would be cool, I think. You'd be doing both steps at the same time. It would be all efficient and shit. Maybe you'd get to meet Al Gore, as a sort of bonus, because he likes that efficiency stuff.

Another way would be, and this should really be a last resort only, to just give up. Shut down.

It's weird that you give up but you shut down. There are many more examples like that. Feel free to do your own research. You'll find that up and down have completely cornered the idiom market. You hardly ever hear anything about left or right or sideways. This seems grossly unfair to me. I may vote for the presidential candidate who embraces this issue.

But I digress.

Remember, giving up only accomplishes step one. And step two is going to be pretty fucking tough after you've turned into a robot or a zombie or something else with no emotions or soul.

The third way to get over it is probably the most common method.

Just wait. Hold your breath and suffer and pity yourself and whine all the fucking time, perhaps pour your heart into a blog, and maybe, eventually, things get better. Maybe, eventually, you find that you have indeed gotten over it.

After that, you can feel free to move on. But not before. I cannot stress this enough. Step one must be completed before step two can succeed.

For those keeping score at home, I'm still fucking awake.

Today was, as the entry title suggests, kinda boring.

I managed to impress myself by staying awake all day, despite having only three hours of sleep since Sunday at 7:00. I just got wrapped up in this work bullshit opportunity and, before I knew it, it was time to come home. So, yay for me!

Then I took a short nap, being very careful to keep it short, so that I could have a reasonable chance at getting to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight. We'll see how that plan works. I had really terrible dreams about Everyone On Earth turning Everyone Else On Earth against me.

Also tonight, I spent a couple of hours talking with StupidGirl. She hasn't made up her mind about coming here. I haven't made up my mind about whether I want her to come here. So, basically, nothing has changed.

It would, however, be nice to see her right now. I could certainly use the distraction. But I want her, or any girl, to be more than a distraction for me. It was completely unfair to MixedSignalGirl. It's been completely unfair to WeirdGirl, though she doesn't seem to mind as much as I do. I'm just trying to keep from repeating that same mistake yet again.

Not until I'm ready. And, if I'm never ready, then so be it.

Anyway, maybe by May I won't need the distraction any more. Or maybe by May I'll be dating someone local, and then StupidGirl sleeping over would be awkward at best.

Haha. Dating someone local. Having a real relationship with a real possibility for a future.

Hahaha. I kill me.

There's almost two inches of snow on the ground here now. Weird, but cool. It's a freakin' Winter wonderland all of a sudden.

Every now and then I have a dangerous kind of thought. I don't like it, not even a little bit, but the same theme keeps resurfacing.

My stupid heart tries to convince my brain that maybe I should just strap one on, so to speak.

Be a man!

That's always the underlying charge.

I think that it's a good thing that my brain isn't quite as stupid as my heart.

---

I can't believe that I have to go back to work tomorrow. Furthermore, I can't believe that I'm still awake right now. I forced myself out of bed, after about three hours of sleep, at 7:00 this morning. I'd thought that this would make me sufficiently tired tonight, so that I might get to sleep at a decent hour.

Ha!

It's been a rough last few days off of work. Tomorrow will bring a totally different kind of turmoil.

I hate change.

---

Oh yeah, before I forget. I wrote an entry late Sunday night. In that entry, I made a couple of cryptic references to a couple of girls. Neither of the girls referenced are people I saw over the weekend. I guess there was confusion. I hope I just cleared it up.

---

I guess that's it for now.

The more I hear, the more I think that I know who my real enemy is.

It's not my lovely self, as it was for a very long time. Nope, this time, it's apparently Everyone On Earth.

Because, as near as I can tell, Everyone On Earth has been sticking their noses, fingers, dicks, whatever appendages are available, into things which are none of their business. Meddling. Intervening. Impeding. Trespassing.

Everyone On Earth has had, I'm sure, my best interests at heart. Or at least their perceptions of what my best interests might be. But the thing that gets me is that Everyone On Earth has completely missed the mark about what those best interests really are. Everyone On Earth doesn't know me as well as they think they do. And Everyone On Earth doesn't know her at all, as near as I've been able to tell.

But for some reason, Everyone On Earth has suddenly started acting like some unholy offspring of Albert Einstein and Phil McGraw, thinking that they know everything and that they're qualified, nay, expected to dole out advice.

Wrong.

I want this to stop. I want it to stop immediately. I know that Everyone On Earth reads this blog, so I'm going to make this as clear as I possibly can.

Please. Stop. Fucking. Interfering. With. My. Personal. Life.

I fear that it's already too late. I'm afraid that the damage has already been done. If that's the case, then I hope that Everyone On Earth doesn't try to undo any of the damage that they've done. That would probably only make things worse. If worse is even possible. Which I doubt.

It won't be that bad, this recalibration I may yet have to do. At first, the thought of packing everything that makes me who I am - my thoughts and my feelings, my hopes and my desires - into a sort of a mental time machine, and sending it all back eight months? Well, it was a pretty scary thought.

So I read some of my old entries, from that time. To prepare myself, reintroduce myself with the person I used to be, before.

Wait, before isn't the right word. The right word is during.

During that time, that seemingly endless period that finally ended last May, I seemed to spend almost all of my time digging around inside myself, trying to find some hidden switch that would turn everything off. It was only at the very end that I figured out what should have been clear all along.

On that last night, the night before the night in which during would end, and after would start, I wrote this entry. At the end, I wrote:

I like this feeling of desire and longing. I don't want it to end. I want to want what I want. I don't necessarily want what I want, but I desperately want to want it. Decipher that last sentence, and I think you'll understand me pretty well.

I realized, back when during was about to end, that my life wasn't so bad after all. Because I, most definitely, wanted.

It wasn't that bad, during. It wasn't as good as after, but I could go back. It wouldn't kill me.

I think that my problem is that I think too much. Life would be so much more simple, if only I'd stop thinking.

I'd have a lot more fun, that's for sure.

To be an off the cuff, spur of the moment guy - it certainly has its appeal. Fewer regrets would be one thing cool about it. I mean, it's hard to regret those things to which I'd never given any real thought. Reflexive, instinctive behavior comes with its own built-in excuse.

Also, I wonder, who can handle honesty? I mean, really handle it. Not like that one girl, who claims that honesty is paramount even while she hides behind half-truths and shields herself with unwarranted extrapolations. And certainly not like that other girl who, in her short lifetime, has never faced truth in its most brutal form.

Anyway, I have a problem. I've had it for a while now. I'm in love with two different women. One of them knows without a doubt, and the other, I suspect, only fears what my feelings might be.

These are extreme cases, to be sure. I deal with them the same way that I deal with everything else - I muddle through as best as I can. Usually, this means that I bottle things up and only allow the minimum amount of pressure to escape. Just enough, because exploding, I think, would be gross. And messy.

But that's not what I wanted to write about tonight.

What I wanted: to write about was lips.

I'm not what you'd call a breast-man. Or an ass-man. Or a leg-man.

I've always been drawn to eyes. Windows to the soul and all that.

But sometimes, something else captures my attention. Sometimes, like right now, it's lips that I can't stop thinking about. Certain lips.

The three pseudo-words that I keep coming up with are these:

Fan, Tas, and Tic.

It's weird, I think, to be so fixated on an activity that could fit perfectly well into a PG-13 movie. But that's the way it is, for me, right now. My fantasies stop, abruptly, before they can earn that coveted R-rating. I don't know why they stop. It makes very little sense to me, so I can't even begin to explain it to anyone else. It is, quote simply, what it is. Deal with it, or don't deal with it. I live with those two choices all the time. I can't be the only one capable of it.

I wonder, who can handle honesty?

Because, here it is.

Or, to be more precise, there it was.

I suppose I feel better now. I think that the only real casualty was my myspace account. It can't be retrieved, and I'm pretty sure that I don't care. It was pretty much irrelevant anyway. I did managed to save the facebook stuff, though time will soon tell if that was a wasted effort or not.

I don't think I'm going to write much about what happened. Something certainly did and, to deal with it, I needed to reset some things inside my head. Dial back some knobs, stuff like that. I've tried to find out what caused it, and I did manage to learn a couple of things. Bullshit things. I tried to do some damage control on that. I don't know if it worked or not, but at least I tried.

I just read a blog that I haven't read in months.

Why did I do this?

Because I'm stupid, that's why.

Anyway, hidden among the blather and the drivel and all the other bloggish stuff that one comes to expect - especially if you read the crap that I write - I found this one particular sentence.

I'm not going to quote the sentence. It's nobody's business. But I will respond to the sentence, in a way.

I used to, for a short time, provide that shoulder for you to lean on. I never thought that you took enough advantage of it, but I always figured that you had your reasons. Now, my shoulder is unencumbered and cold, and I miss the purpose that your head used to provide.

The truth doesn't matter if nobody believes it. It's like that tree falling with nobody around thing. It's irrelevant.

---

I've been having a problem lately with dreams.

I've had so many dreams, and of such a vivid variety, that I've found myself confused. I can't always differentiate those things that really happened from those things that only happened in dreams.

If I had seen LaptopGirl tonight, I would have told her how happy I was that she wasn't a little toy red octopus anymore. Because I had a dream this afternoon, and in that dream she'd turned into a little toy red octopus. And I had to carry her around to keep these two asshole kids from throwing her into walls to watch her "walk" down.

If I had seen her, I doubt that I'd have been able to contain my relief. I'd have told her how relieved I was.

Also.

My dream self is so eloquent in his conversations and his explanations. I often wake up overflowing with confidence.

Because I know that I'll be able to say the things that need to be said, should the opportunity or need ever arise.

I mean, if my dream self can say such beautiful things, speaking out of his ass, then my awake self should do even better.

---

Tonight, several times every minute, I imagined something. This one tiny particular thing. Each and every time, several times a minute, I became awash with joy. Just because of that little thing I was imagining.

It was really cool.

Hit the snooze, hit the snooze, hit the snooze.

Okay, fine. Get up, take a shower. Check email. Nothing.

Go to work.

Boring, boring boring, boring, Hey, it's AlliDay!

Boring, boring.

Lunch time, finally. Hi, AlliGirl!

Lunch is over.

Bye, AlliGirl!

Boring, boring, boring, boring.

Yay! I'm off work until Tuesday! Yay!

Nap time.

Hit the snooze, hit the snooze.

Okay, fine. Get up, take a shower. Check email. Nothing.

Go to Rich O's.

Boring, boring.

LaptopGirl is here!

Yay!

She smiled at me!

Yay!

LaptopGirl is gone now.

Boo!

Boring, boring, boring, boring.

TremensGirl is hot.

Boring, boring, boring.

Go home.

Check email. Hey, there's one from HatGirl!

Yay!

Compose a drunken reponse to HatGirl.

Is it too much?

Nope, it's safe. Send it.

Write a stupid entry.

Happy Birthday to RockGirl!

If her stupid work phone had voicemail, I was going to leave a happy birthday song there.

But, noooooooo, it's a phone from the 1950s or something - before voicemail was invented.

Anyway, Happy Birthday!

Yay for RockGirl!

I've really strayed from the original purpose of this blog.

It was supposed to be for me. Hell, I was supposed to be the only person who ever read it. I certainly expected that would be the case, back when I started this thing in late 2003.

Well, it didn't work out that way. Readers have come, and a shitload of readers have gone, but I bet I still get a hundred or so a day, between the two sites where this blog is presented. Not too bad, since I'm not a hot girl. I'm kinda the opposite of a hot girl, I'd say. And most would agree.

A hundred people is about ninety-nine too many, I often think.

Because I keep finding that I'm writing for someone else instead of for myself. Or, as is more often the case lately, I find myself not writing, lest the wrong person read my words.

I used to like it, the thought that others would read, and even enjoy, this crap. It was an ego boost that came at a time when I didn't even know I had an ego.

But then something started happening. And I started using this venue as an outlet to say the things that I was unwilling or unable to say in person. I started writing entries with particular readers in mind.

I started writing entries to certain people. I did that for a long time.

And now, I'm doing it again.

Because I can't say certain things in person. The timing is wrong. Or the vibes I'm getting feel wrong. Or the Moon is in the wrong phase. Or the opportunities are just so rare that I don't want to screw them up by piling my bullshit onto someone who doesn't expect it or need it or want it.

Bullshit like, sometimes I'm just so fucking happy that I forget to be sad. I forget that I want more, and that I will always want more, but that most of all I just want the air to be cleared. I want to somehow convey that I am not satisfied with the way things are, but that neither am I at all ungrateful for this series of miracles by which I've been blessed.

I forget to be sad, and then I sit here alone late at night, and it all comes rushing back to me, and I write drivel like that last paragraph.

And the really funny thing is, I don't think that my intended audience reads me anymore. I don't blame them at all.

Monday, as I mentioned before, I went to Rich O's after work. I got a pizza to go.

What I didn't mention before was that I got a special pizza. Or at least a special pizza box.

The kitchen staff, led by MisunderstoodGirl, all signed the thing.

Then a bunch of other people who were standing around signed the thing.

You can click this image to see a large version.

I've got a pretty strange feeling running through me right now.

It's kind of like I'm not alone.

Weird, but cool.

I went to Rich O's after work today. More out of habit than any particular desire to observe Pizza Day or have a beer. But it's cool that I went in, because after a few sips of Upland Wheat (126), I saw that NABC had tapped their Old Lightning Rod a couple of days early. I traded the rest of my Upland for a pint of the Old Lightning Rod (250) and it was very good as always.

---

Today I counted up the vacation days that I've used since May, when our fiscal year started. I've still got a buttload of days left to take. To help rectify this situation, I'm taking this Thursday and Friday off. So, because Monday is a company holiday, I'll get a five-day weekend. What will I do with this five-day weekend? Probably not a damn thing.

I need to take a week off sometime this Spring and go somewhere. Las Vegas is my obvious first choice, but I'm also thinking about maybe going up to Seattle instead. I haven't been there since 2002, and I find myself thinking about that place, and those people, quite often.

---

Oh yeah, this morning it snowed like a motherfucker for about an hour. Flakes the size of 50-cent pieces. It was quite pretty, and I got a little excited that maybe it would accumulate. But alas, it melted on contact with the ground. I'm not a huge fan of snow, but I detest cold weather, and snow at least makes it bearable for me. They're saying that it might snow here Thursday, but I suspect that's just a ploy to get us to watch the evening news.

---

Funny, I thought I'd have more to write about tonight.

Fine, I'll admit it.

I'm a little bit miffed right now.

At myself.

For managing to be surprised at what's shown itself to be an unvarying pattern.

Maybe I should have this fable tattooed onto my chest.

I wish I could describe what it's like for me.

I wish I had the words to describe it with any accuracy, and I wish I had the balls to describe it with any clarity.

It would be a great entry. I just know it would.

I imagine, sometimes, that it's like being born. For your entire existence, you've been in the dark. Muffled sounds and random pressures and chaotic movements, they are all you know. They are your world.

And then, suddenly, there's light.

There. That single moment, that single instant of time when your retinas register light for the first time. A heretofore unsuspected sense awakens within you. You become more than you were before. You can see.

I have moments like that, every now and then.

Every time, it's like the first time.

I am born during moments like that.

The rest of the time, I wait.

To be born again.

I didn't need to be tried, convicted, and sentenced, at a trial I didn't even know was happening, with a so-called friend as the judge and the jury.

So much would be different, right now, if that trial had never happened. Or if I'd had a chance to defend myself.

For one thing, I'd still have my friend.

For another thing, I wouldn't be sitting here with a million questions, none with answers, all striving to distract me.

For another thing, I wouldn't feel like I was cheating myself, by not paying complete attention to what's really important in my life.

I don't need a fucking distraction, but that's what I've got. Even now, sitting in this chair, I find myself distracted. Wondering why.

It must be nice, I think, to be able to flip a switch and turn feelings off. It must be nice, I'm sure, to be able to yank on a chain and watch emotions swirl down a drain. It must be nice, I bet, to be able to close a door and seal yourself off from happy memories of one of the few people who actually gives a shit about you.

I didn't need this shit. And I didn't need you. So why, I wonder, why do I need you now?

The timing is terrible.

This is something I've been thinking about for a while. Months, even. I've known that it was a subject worthy of an entry, but I just haven't been able to figure out how to tackle it.

This will be my final attempt. I'll either post whatever I come up with, or I'll forget the idea entirely.

Maybe some things just aren't meant to be entry topics.

Anyway, here goes.

---

Imagine a couple of people in a bar at 6:00. Go ahead and imagine a guy and a girl, if you would. It will make things easier.

In your mind, please also position the guy and the girl so that they're in each other's lines of sight. But they're not sitting together. Maybe they're at opposite ends of the room. But they can still see each other.

They each order a beer. Maybe an Upland Wheat for him, and a Guinness for her. Something fairly tame for each of them, but not the same beer. That would give them something in common, and that would just complicate things.

The guy sees the girl drinking her Guinness, and he wonders about her. He wonders if she knows that Guinness has one of the lowest alcohol percentages around, so maybe that's why she's drinking it. Maybe she has to work in the morning, so she's taking it easy. Or maybe she genuinely likes the taste of Guinness. Or maybe it's the only "exotic" beer that she's heard of, and she's a little afraid to try anything more adventurous. Or maybe she's intrigued by the Guinness Advertisements she's seen. Or maybe she's planning to be in the bar for a long time, so she's pacing herself. Or maybe she's going somewhere else later, and this beer is just something to drink while she waits for her friends to come and get her.

Across the room, the girl sees the guy, too. She sees him drinking his beer at 6:00, and she decides that he is an alcoholic and that she's repulsed by him.

At 7:00, the guy drains the last of his beer and moves behind the bar. His shift is starting. He'd heard that there might be something wrong with the Upland, but it tasted fine to him.

The girl pays her tab, barely concealing the look of disgust on her face. She wonders how the bar owner could have such an obvious alcoholic working for him. Then she decides that it's because the owner is an alcoholic, too.

---

Another venue this time. Let's make it a fancy restaurant. Different guy, different girl. They've been dating for a long time. They're having dinner.

Once the waiter has taken their orders, he leaves, and they sit in silence.

The guy looks at the girl, and he wonders why she's so quiet. He wonders if she's angry at him. Or maybe she's had a bad time at work. Or maybe she's contemplating an affair, or maybe already having one. He wonders if she's going to break up with him. He wonders why. He wonders how she'll answer him, if he ever gets around to asking. He wonders if he's just being paranoid - if maybe her silence has nothing to do with him. He replays the last several weeks in his head, trying to figure out if there's a problem or not. He wants tonight to be perfect, and he nervously taps his jacket pocket.

The girl looks at the guy, and decides that his silence is because he's cheating on her with that pretty blonde at his work, and that she hates him.

Finally, the guy breaks the silence. "Are you okay?" he asks. "You seem really quiet tonight."

"I'm fine," she answers. "There just wasn't anything to say."

"Okay," the guy says. He stands up shakily.

"Maybe this will give us something to talk about," he offers. Visibly shaking, he lowers himself to one knee and brings the box from his pocket.

"Sweetie," he croaks. "You are the love of my life. And I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you've made me these past several months. Will you marry me?"

The girl is shocked.

"Why don't you ask your other girlfriend to marry you?" she demands.

And she gets up and walks out.

---

The moral of each of these stories is that people who jump to conclusions suck.

The other moral is that people who cling their wrong conclusions suck hard.

Last night was supposed to be completely different than it was. I was supposed to have a date with WeirdGirl, but it kept getting delayed and delayed and delayed because, well my theory is it's because her boss is an asshole.

So I went to Rich O's after all, at about 7:30. The parking lot was totally packed. I ended up parking on Mars. During the long trek back to Rich O's, I began to really dread the crowd that I was sure waited inside. But I was pleasantly surprised and very relieved to see that it wasn't that bad at all. The special people room was full of PBDs having a party or something - that's why the parking lot was so full - but Rich O's proper was only about a third-full.

I sat on the throne and ordered an Upland Wheat (123) and talked briefly to the makeout couple sitting on the loveseat.

For the next hour or so I kinda vegged out. My phone kept going off about various work emergencies and, because this is my on-call week, I had to respond to every text message that came in. But I got over it. I talked to MusicalYuppieDude. He says he's going to give me some doohickey which may allow me to mess with my electric guitar in my actual living room. Instead of in the far corner of my basement. So that will be cool.

At about the time PearlGirl came in with her hot friend from a few weeks ago, WeirdGirl texted me that she'd been delayed again. I was going to order another Upland, but the keg had blown, so I had a Pyramid Snow Cap (90) instead. It was yummy.

There was some dude at the kiddie table sampling all of the beers that NABC makes, and since I couldn't talk to PearlGirl's hot friend (she was busy talking to PearlGirl) I talked to him instead. It's nice when strangers aren't assholes. It's also quite rare, but that's part of what makes it nice.

At about the time I finished my Pyramid, and ordered a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (2323), WeirdGirl texted me again to say she was going to have to work until closing. So that sucked. I'd turned down an invitation to go to my sister's because of my date, and now it wasn't even going to happen until at least 2:00. But then I remembered that I don't get cell phone reception at Dina's, so I couldn't have gone anyway, because of the being on-call thing.

Anyway, at one point I was wandering around talking to some of the PBD girls. We were talking about traveling the world and stuff like that. I said that I wished I'd done that stuff when I was younger, but that now I was too old.

StoreGirl told me, "You're certainly not any older than 30."

So I gave her a hug and told her I loved her.

Then this other PBD girl, who for some reason doesn't have a nickname (It's OldBob's wife) told me, "Well, you're definitely younger than 40."

So I have her a hug and told her I loved her.

The night became a little blurry for a bit. I was trying to decide if I wanted to go to Louisville to wait for WeirdGirl, or to just go home, or to hang out at Rich O's some more. I ordered a Diet Coke and did some mingling.

At one point I found myself in the special people room. I showed StoreGirl my drivers license. It was funny to see the look in her face when she saw how old I was.

I thanked PearlGirl for bringing her hot friend with her. I'm pretty sure that I talked to UPSDude for a bit. I ate an egg thing that wasn't too bad. A little bland, I thought.

Oh yeah, I told ElPresidente about running into that girl who used to ride our school bus. His first question was, "Is she still hot?"

I said that she was indeed.

At 10:30 or so, I found myself sitting at the island, talking with StoreGirl and some other PBDs about various fluff. I know that it was around 10:30, because it was way too late for LaptopGirl to be showing up.

But that's exactly what she did.

Yay!

This is the part where I have to be careful about what I write.

I'd gone out front to talk to LaptopGirl while she looked at the draft board, and when I went back into Rich O's proper, OldBob's wife had stolen my seat at the island. I said that was fine because I was moving back to the throne anyway.

This was about when the bartenders decided to crank the music up to level 10.

So LaptopGirl and I basically screamed at each other for several minutes. I couldn't hear more than every third or fourth word, though, even after she moved to the Loveseat.

So I asked a bartender, as politely as I could, if there was any way that the music could be turned down a little.

He turned the music completely off.

I'd managed to piss off a Rich O's bartender, and that's one of my rules. I'm not supposed to do that.

Anyway, so I picked up my shit, and I said goodbye, and I left. I sent LaptopGirl a text message to apologize. While I was driving home, PearlGirl texted me 500 times to ask if I was okay. LaptopGirl didn't reply at all.

After I got home, I ended up sending an email to LaptopGirl, apologizing again for my abrupt departure. I also texted WeirdGirl to let her know that I wouldn't me driving to Louisville after all.

Then I ate some chicken and went to bed.

I'm too old for this shit. My tolerance for idiots has been plummeting steadily for months, maybe even for years. And my tolerance levels for loudness and crowding were never very high to begin with.

I'm glad that TallLady was in the throne when I arrived. Otherwise I might have reflexively sat there. That would have been bad, because I'd have lasted about ten seconds before I'd have moved again. And I'd have had some explaining to do.

What I ended up doing was sitting at the kiddie table. I tried my best to ignore the incredible noise level coming from the living room area while I enjoyed an Upland Winter Warmer (280). It was pretty good, but I decided that I just wasn't in the mood for anything strong.

When TallLady left, she offered the throne to me. I declined. No fucking way was I adding myself to that obnoxious mix. I could barely hear myself think as it was.

When PhotoDude left the bar, I moved up there. It was still way too loud in the place, but having all of the noise at my back did help a little.

There's this ridiculous pattern that keeps repeating itself.

1. People tell dick jokes very loudly.
2. The bartenders turn the music up so the entire bar doesn't have to listen to the loud people tell dick jokes.
3. People get even more loud so that others can hear their dick jokes over the music.
4. The bartenders turn the music up even louder, so that people in other states don't have to hear the dick jokes.
5. I wonder what the fuck happened to the quiet place I'd grown so fond of.

Anyway, my next beer was a yummy Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (2296), which I hadn't had in a long time for some reason. It really hit the spot.

I spent a good part of the next couple of hours trading text messages and emails back and forth. I asked MusicalYuppieDude the first question. His answer neither surprised me nor bothered me. Eventually, I expect it to bother me.

UPSDude kept asking me if I was mad at him. He does this all the time, but last night he seemed unwilling to take "no" for an answer. Eventually, he did manage to annoy me by pressing the issue so much.

At about the time I started my second Weihenstephaner (2306), the second question was asked. Then, right after that, MusicalYuppieDude and I got to talking about guitars and amps and headphones, and the third question was asked.

I didn't finish my last beer. It was getting late, and I was in a crappy mood by then, so I paid and came home.

At about 2:30, a fourth question was asked. It was a very welcome question. An invitation, actually.

My answer was, "Try and stop me."

The first question tonight was asked by me.

It was a stupid question.

The answer was, "Wednesday, for a while."

I suppose that a small part of me must have expected such an answer. Otherwise I don't think I'd have ever asked.

But, I did ask.

Because I am a dumbass.

---

The second question tonight was asked to me, in response to a question I'd asked.

I paraphrase slightly.

"Where is she? Is she okay?" I'd asked.

"I don't care," she answered. "I'm mortified," she answered. "What was I supposed to do," she asked, "just leave the bill and the mess behind?"

"Fuck yes," is what I should have answered. "The bill will still be here tomorrow, and the mess will be taken care of. Go make sure she's okay."

Everyone on Earth knew the answer to her question. Everyone except her, apparently. I myself was too shocked to answer at all.

---

The third question tonight was also asked of me, as part of a discussion I was having.

The answer is, "The plugs are exactly the same, but I get no sound whatsoever. I guess you need some kind of power source. It was a good idea, though."

...if I suddenly found myself faced with the brutal possibility that I just don't care anymore? That all of these ups and downs, lifting me up and throwing me down, that they've become boring to me?

The same old news, rehashed and recycled and respun so many times that there's just nothing left.

It's weird, that I'm in this mood tonight. It's certainly not the mood I was expecting. Or even wanting. But there's a calmness about it, this mood of mine. I can't remember the last time I felt this calm.

Like a normal person, if I remember correctly.

I can almost feel a little tingle inside me. A tiny spark of hope, that, maybe, this mood will last for a while. And I won't care tomorrow, either. Or the next day. Or the next day.

Wouldn't it be funny if, after all this time, this roller coaster ran out of track, and I found myself flying through the air?

I feel like people are starting to assume things about me.

This does not necessarily mean that I'm being paranoid. It might mean that, but it's not a rule or anything. It could be that I'm just having regular thoughts, and I just happen to have a lot of similar thoughts at the same time.

Kind of like, or so I've heard, all of the air molecules in a room, bouncing around the way they do, I've heard that it's at least possible that they'll all find themselves crammed into one corner at the same time.

And then anyone unfortunate enough to be in an other corner would explode or something, because nature abhors a vacuum.

The thing is, I've pretty much got one thing on my mind. Or at the forefront of my mind at least. There are other things. Really, there are. Seriously.

Okay, fuck you if you don't believe me when I say that I think about other things. There's no rule for that either.

When I'm in charge of things, there'll be a fucking rule. It'll be right after the "No pain for HatGirl, ever" rule.

Anyway, I try pretty hard to not write about this one thing that's on my mind. Sometimes my abstention is easy, sometimes it's pretty much the opposite of easy.

The opposite of easy would be hard, for those of you having a tough time keeping up.

It bugs me, though, when I don't feel like I'm in control of myself. See, there's all this stuff that happens, all this stuff that I do and think and say, and I hardly ever write about any of it. Because, I fear, once my fingers start their little tappy-dance on my keyboard, I'm liable to type just about anything.

Anything could, by definition, be bad.

---

There was a dude at Rich O's, Tuesday night. I'm pretty sure I never spoke to him before in my life. He told me, "Dave, for what it's worth, I enjoy reading your blog."

So, "Hi, DudeINeverTalkedToBeforeInMyLife! I'm glad you enjoy the blog!"

---

Also present, Tuesday night, was the girl who, as near as I can figure, was my third crush ever. I'm pretty sure that, in some strange subliminal subconscious way, I'm pretty sure that I've had a crush on this particular girl since the second grade.

So, basically, Pangea split into separate continents, and right after that I got a crush on this girl.

I do not believe that those two events were related.

---

Today was, of course, AlliDay. So I went to The Pub for lunch and I talked to AlliGirl for the first time since the New Year's Eve fiasco. She's just so damn cute, no way can I stay mad at her.

---

And now, I can feel my self-control slipping away. So I'm going to stop typing now before I start typing about how much I...

The last couple of nights have been nice. It's been so warm that I've been able to sit out on my swing, enjoy a tasty beverage, and contemplate things for a while. Life and love and the lack of both, mostly.

Things might become interesting here in a few months, around Derby time, as StupidGirl has hinted at making a trip here. But a lot can happen between now and then. I certainly don't want to be pinning too many hopes - or fears - on something that's still in such early stages of planning.

Not even planning, really.

More like thinking about.

Which is totally fair, because that's pretty much all I've been doing for the last couple of hours.

Should I look at this as an opportunity to be saved from this quagmire I'm in, or as more of a temporary distraction? Perhaps I should see it as a giant turd, and my life would be a fan.

Meanwhile, I can't even believe that it's almost 2:00 in the flipping morning. I need to learn how to sleep.

So, I quit my job.

I'm not really sure what led me to make the decision, I just did it. I was in a staff meeting, a meeting no better or worse than the dozens of other meetings I've endured every week for six years, and I'd suddenly had enough.

I got up, and I walked out.

Luckily, I got a new job right away, with a start-up company specializing in outfitting corporate jets for Internet and video conferencing. A couple of my old bosses from Seattle were running the thing, and they were glad to have me. They knew my value, from before. So that was cool.

My first day, I met a few other people. There actually weren't very many people to meet. Only about six of us total. This gave me some cause for concern, but I figured that maybe they were still looking for other hires.

The thing that really freaked me out was when I remembered that I'd left all of my pictures at my old desk. Some of those pictures, I realized, were irreplaceable.

I tried to think of a way that I could go back to my old desk and get my pictures, but I knew there was no way they'd ever let me in. I'd burned that particular bridge too thoroughly. There was no going back.

Anyway, tomorrow I go back to work, after nine days off.

Yes, it will suck. Mainly because my sleep schedule is all screwy, and I probably won't sleep tonight until after 3:00.

My recent absence hasn't been caused by any great drama or anything like that. I've just been busy doing boring stuff. There's this pool tournament that started on Friday. I usually play in the thing, but this year all I did was go watch for a while. On Friday, and on Saturday, and on Sunday.

It's cool to be around pool players for a change.

Anyway, I've gone to the tournament, and then I've gone to Rich O's, and then I've come home. That's been my life for the past three days and nights. Like I said, boring.

Oh yeah, last night after Rich O's I went to this Mac's place that I don't like. I wanted to listen to some karaoke for a while. It was fun I guess. Nobody was any good, though. Also, I think I'm going to stop calling that place Mac's and start calling it Sluttopia. Or maybe Whoreapolis. I haven't decided.

I never said this would be an exciting entry. Or maybe I did, in the title of the thing. Oops.

...will actually not be complete until tomorrow.

But, that's okay.

It's still a good deed.

So there.

Sometimes, usually, I think about things that I'm not supposed to think about. I feel guilty when this happens, but I don't feel that guilty. Because it's not like I really have a choice. Nope, all choices were stripped from me a long time ago. I do what I do. I muddle through.

But anyway, I spend a lot of time feeling a little bit guilty, because of these tracks that my trains of thought like to follow. Often, I almost manage to convince myself that I'm a bad person, because of these thoughts of mine. These hopes of mine. These dreams of mine.

Selfish.

But sometimes, sometimes I manage to do something decent, say something decent. And I surprise myself, because I didn't think that I had any decency left in me.

It's nice to be wrong, sometimes.

---

Beauty is fleeting, or so they say.

But I don't believe them, not even for a second.

I think they're doing it wrong. I think they're using their eyes.

Close their eyes, and they will see the truth.

Beauty is eternal.

This morning, just now actually, I was reminded of something that bugs me.

Let's say I write this in my blog:

It was freakin' cold this morning. Nine whole degrees when I woke up at the crack of 10:00. And yes, I know it's a lot colder than that in other places.

I'm annoyed by this use of the "and yes" segue. It just rubs me the wrong way. It patronizingly presumes that the writer knows what the reader is thinking, then it casually dismisses the reader's thought. It's a little argumentative, yet the reader never gets his say. The reader loses an argument that he was never really in to begin with.

Another annoying use of the same segue is here, paraphrased from Slashdot:

It seems that the New Year's Eve fireworks show in Seattle had to be fired manually, because the software that was supposed to run things crashed. And yes, that software runs on Windows.

Anyway, that's my little rant for now. And yes, I know this was a silly entry.

I was just sitting here at my desk, thinking that I should probably write something tonight. Because I've got all this beer in me and I'd hate for it to go to waste.

I was drawing a blank, though. I'd kinda thought about this one thing, but that subject is off-limits for me, plus it's kinda R-rated. Maybe X-Rated. Then, I thought of this other topic, but I really don't know what the facts are, and I don't want to write about my guesses.

So, like I said, I was drawing a bit of a blank. I decided to give up for the night. I tapped out a quick email to RockGirl and, right in the middle of the tapping, I thought of something.

The year 2007 was a pretty fucked-up year for me, if I look at it objectively. It was, despite the one incredibly wonderful thing that happened and which continues to happen, the year 2007 was a huge net loss for me, overall. As far as relationships go, I mean.

I can think of only one relationship that's better off now than it was at the beginning of 2007.

A few have stayed the same, but several have deteriorated or completely gone to shit. One ascended to new heights and then crashed spectacularly over a few short months.

Most of the time, I feel like I don't care nearly as much as I should. Oh, every now and then I'll catch myself missing a relationship that's either gone sour or faded away completely. But it doesn't happen very often, that I feel this way. Probably not as often as it should, should I ever wish to appear normal to those people who know me.

Good thing I don't care about appearing to be normal.

I forget where I was going with this. I think that I wanted to say that I do miss certain people, and that I am sorry for whatever fault I might have had in the ever-increasing distance between us, but that I don't care as much as I should. And that bothers me at least as much as the original stuff does.

I think, I think that if I were a total asshole, as certain people are so wont to proclaim, then my apathy wouldn't bother me at all. But it does. So maybe I'm not that bad after all. Maybe there's hope for me after all. Maybe there's hope for us after all.

It's not like I'm hiding, I just haven't felt like doing much seeking lately.

In the year 2008, I resolve to...

...drink more beer than is probably healthy for me, but it will only be good beer, so my snobbish ways can continue.

...not lose even an ounce of weight. And, even if I do manage to lower the scale because of illness or some such, I resolve to immediately gain it all back, and then add a few extra pounds just to teach myself a lesson.

...blow minor things way out of proportion, lose sight of what's really important, and just generally make a ass out of myself over trivial bullshit.

...ignore anything that might be considered encouraging. Not that I expect anything encouraging to ever happen, but I resolve to ignore such things, just in case. It's preemptive and stuff.

...automatically assume that most people are idiots or assholes or whores or sluts until they prove otherwise. And, furthermore, I resolve to immediately revert to my initial assessment the first time anyone does something I don't like.

I was about 40 minutes late, but I did have my little year-end ceremony séance tonight. It took place in my garage, because standing outside in that damn wind would have been suicide.

This year, I wasn't nearly as eloquent as I've been in the past. This year, it was too fucking cold, and I was too fucking pissed.

So I basically griped for eight minutes or so before I finally got to the good stuff. The relevant stuff. And, by then, my adrenaline was flowing too strongly for me to speak coherently. So I quit.

Oh, well. Maybe next year.