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...