Okay, I just remembered how the conversation shifted last night.

I'd been telling TremensGirl about the crushes I'd suddenly developed on the girl at the island and the cute hippie girl at the bar. And the crush I'd had for a long time on the cute blonde bartender girl.

Those three girls all look very different from each other, and TremensGirl told me that I was weird. Then she was like, "Speaking of you being weird, LaptopGirl blah blah blah..."

Anyway, that's how that topic was broached. Now everyone can go on with their lives. You're welcome.

Got to Rich O's at 8:30 or so. I got to park in the actual Rich O's parking lot. So that was a good sign, but it was a misleading one.

The place was completely packed. With strangers. MusicalYuppieDude was sitting on the throne, I sat at the kiddie table. Neither of us recognized anyone in the place except for each other.

But, at least the strangers brought women with them. So the usual Saturday night sausage fest was cancelled.

My first attempt at a beer was something new to me.

New Holland Black Tulip

(draft) Pale amber, fizzy, good head. All standard for Belgians of this type. Aroma seemed a tad stale to me. Flavor was average but subdued. The finish was very reminiscent of rubbing alcohol. Bitter and drying. I was disappointed with this beer, and I didn't drink very much of it.

Let's see, there was a very pretty girl at the island. She reminded me a lot of LaptopGirl's friend WeatherGirl. She was sitting with a bunch of dorks and hippies though. And there was a very cute hippie girl at the bar with her boyfriend. When I started to explain to the bartender that I might finish the Black Tulip later, the cute hippie girl turned around and looked at me, and I totally forgot how to talk. It came out as something like, "I might sdflhgy sdwoq nnuue lllllllllllllllllllaaaa."

The bartender got the gist though. Then TremensGirl came in and I gave her the rest of the Black Tulip.

We just talked about various crap for a while. Like how I've never thought the simma down now skits on SNL are funny at all. At one point, I don't know how, the conversation shifted to that same old topic. And there were some pretty fucked-up opinions thrown my way. I was, as I said in my last entry, saved from getting all defensive and making as ass out of myself by the unexpected arrival of HatGirl and LuckyFucker.

HatGirl!

Yay!

So I moved up to the island (the strangers there had left) and talked with those two for an hour or so. It was nice.

Once HatGirl and LuckyFucker left, WomanRepellant came and joined me. I'd cut myself off after my second Gulden Draak so I just had a couple Diet Cokes while WomanRepellant and I talked about various crap.

I was going to stop at White Castle on the way home, but I forgot again.

I suppose that I was just - what's a good word? - flabbergasted by the opinion expressed to me tonight.

Not defensive, though it might have come to that before too long. Certainly not angry.

Flabbergasted.

I cannot think of any time in my life when I've been confronted with a more inaccurate series of statements.

Luckily, HatGirl came in and distracted me before I made a complete ass out of myself.

I'm in a much better mood this morning. I got to cross a person off my list. Yay!

People would probably look down on me if they knew just how much value I place in tiny little gestures. And, I know, it is sad that I pretty much base all of my happiness on such tiny things.

But, you know what's even sadder than that?

Basing my happiness on those things, and then they don't happen.

I don't want to go back to those days. It's a fairly constant fear of mine. And fear fuels the funk.

So I got to Rich O's at 8:30 or so, after a quick meal at the haunted Burger King. I should probably have gone to Wendy's or Arby's instead. The meal didn't sit right in my stomach, and that slight nausea only made my mood worse.

The place was packed, and loud. Too packed. Too loud. I wanted to turn around and leave, but for some stupid reason I didn't. I grabbed a Wostyntje (242) and sat on the sofa with MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl.

It was loud.

It was packed.

I should have left. I wanted to just get up and leave. I told myself that about every ten seconds.

But I didn't leave. I guess I still held out some hope that something would happen to renew my faith in humanity. If I could only hold out for just a little bit longer, then something would happen and I could go back to being happy.

I eventually moved to the throne, and I had a couple more glasses of Wostyntje (278).

My mood never got any better. Those poor souls around me, to their credit, did a fantastic job of resisting my attempts to suck all of the life out of the room.

I'm sure that everyone was very relieved when I finally left.

I know that I was.

It's a weird feeling. Happy and irritated at the same time.

Happy because, well, I'm still happy from what happened in May.

Pissed because...

I guess I'm irritated because, as a general rule, people suck.

Tonight, I emailed to RockGirl a list of people I'm irritated with. It was a long list. In fact, if you read this entry, and you wonder if you're on the list, then you probably are.

I'm both irritated and irritable. This is a bad combination for me. It basically means that everyone is fair game. It means that, if you haven't managed to piss me off yet, just wait a while and it's bound to happen before too long.

I've done some calculations. And my life is 142.6755 asstillion times better now that it was three months ago. I'm pretty sure that's all that's holding me together tonight. I can still look back at the fairly recent past, and I can appreciate the difference between then and now. It is, not literally but metaphorically, like the difference between night and day.

Anyway.

I was going to say that it wasn't anyone's fault that I'm so irritated. I was going to say that it was all my own doing. But I've thought about it, and I've decided not to say that. I've decided not to lie.

This mood was thrust upon me from external sources. One tiny little thing somehow joined forces with a thousand other tiny little things. And they created one great big giant thing, the sole purpose of which was to wipe the smile off my face.

Well, it worked. I'm frowning now.

But I'm still smiling on the inside.

So fuck you, giant thing.

You might have won this battle, but the war is mine.

You ever find yourself surrounded by a group of people, people who you kinda know, but not really? I mean, they're acquaintances, but not much more than that?

You ever listen to them rambling on and on and on, and then suddenly you're struck with the realization that they're all idiots? Or even worse, mindless sheep?

Yeah well, me too.

It's a very revealing realization, and not a particularly good realization.

This is why I remain convinced that talking to and/or listening to people is, generally, a pretty bad idea.

I was just out on my swing, drinking a yummy Koningshoeven Quad (522) and I managed to get excited about writing something. Not anything in particular, though, just a mish-mash of subjects.

I don't like the mish-mash entries. I know that I'm only using them as placeholders. Just so it looks like I'm an active blogger. And I use them to touch upon subjects which really deserve their own entries, but which I'm unable and/or unwilling to write about at length.

For example: Today somebody was somewhere undergoing something. We were a little concerned, but everything turned out okay.

And that's all I can say about that, because it's nobody's business.

Anyway, on with the mish-mash.

---

This morning I was subjected to an interrogation. I evaded the questions as well as I could, but I didn't fool my questioner at all. There are answers that I'm going to have to provide before too much more time has passed. Just to ease some potential concerns if for no other reason. But I need to be able to answer my own internal questions before I can answer any external ones.

Things are complicated, and confusing, and convoluted.

I like it.

---

The ignore game champion of the universe has, apparently, challenged me to another match. I don't know why - her supremacy is undoubted. But I guess I'll play, because I've got nothing better to do.

---

When I was out on my swing just now, that one cat that I call Pete Jr. was there. He was scared of me on the swing, though, so I couldn't get him to come to me.

---

The other night MixedSignalGirl called to let me know that she was moving away Monday morning. Now, she's been gone almost four days. I'm pretty sure that I'm in deep deep deep denial about this. Otherwise I'd be a lot more sad than I am.

I told her everything. About how she's the one. About the rings. She still left. She's still gone. I'm still not as sad as I should be.

---

You guys hear about DeathCat? That cat in that nursing home that predicts when people are about to die?

Pretty creepy stuff, if you ask me.

---

The other day I was accused of being someone's best friend. This was a bullshit accusation, I thought. But, more than that, it put an awful lot of pressure on me to keep doing what I'm doing, and not change a single thing. This pressure is in direct opposition to some other pressure that I'm undergoing. Life is fun.

---

I've been on-call this week for work. This is always a pain in the ass, but this week it's been especially irritating because most of the problems which have arisen have been problems that I can't do a damn thing about.

---

Being on-call also means that I can't go to this dealie that my sister is having on Saturday, because I don't get any signal on my Blackberry at her house. This is annoying enough under normal circumstances - I feel like a caveman or something, being all cut off from the world like that. But when I'm on-call, I must be able to get text messages at all times or I'm screwed.

---

I spend about 33% of my time worrying about one thing, and about 33% of my time worrying about the exact opposite thing. For the remainder of my time, I'm free to worry about whatever suits my fancy.

What the fuck is a fancy, anyway? Sounds dirty to me.

---

I guess that's it for now.

I've used the mosquito metaphor before here. Hmmm, almost exactly a year ago. Weird.

Anyway, I suppose that's a lot of what's going on with me now. Just a bunch of little things, and no overshadowing big thing to occupy my mind.

One thing that I thought about today, as I sat at Rich O's - Rogue Chocolate Stout (2136) - after work, my brow still furrowed, was that I'm starting to see some disturbing parallels. Disturbing because parallel tracks quite often lead to the same destination. And I certainly don't want to go to that place again. Ever.

So that's part of it, certainly. But I also think there's something else. Along with the obvious (to me anyway) similarities, there are also quite a few glaring differences. Problem is, I think, that I don't really notice the differences except every now and then. Just once in a while, I'll remember something. And it kind of hits me harder than it should. Just for a second though.

For example, say you're lying on your back, with a book on your belly. No big deal, right?

Now have someone pick up the book and drop it onto your belly. A little uncomfortable, isn't it? But it only lasts for a second.

Now have that same somebody pick up and drop that book every ten seconds for hours and days at a time.

Well, that's a really horrible analogy. Maybe I should have used the Chinese water torture instead. But you readers are smart. I'm sure you get the gist.

It's not that the differences are bothering me. The differences will probably be what keeps me safe when it's all said and done. The differences don't bother me, but they try to bother me so suddenly and so unexpectedly. That's what's really irritating. Not the differences themselves, but the surprise that they arrive with.

I can't seem to keep any of these things in my head. So I forget. And I start wondering about the similarities. Contemplating the parallels. Sometimes I even catch myself getting excited about the parallels. Then the differences hit me. Repeat ad infinitum.

To summarize, I'm weird.

Kind of a wasted day for me. Went to work with hardly no sleep. Somehow managed to stay awake all day. Came home after work. Slept fitfully for a couple of hours.

Something is bothering me, and I'm not really sure what that thing is. Nothing in particular seems to stand out in my mind. But there's clearly something that's eating away at my subconscious. Out of those dozen or so little things that I kind of feel should be bothering me - one of them is managing to do exactly that.

My brow is furrowed right now, as I sit in this chair and let my fingers type their drivel. If anyone were to look at me, if anyone were here to look at me, they'd be able to tell. Something is bothering me.

And I'd kinda like to know what it is. So I could decide whether to do anything about it. Whether I should do anything about it. Whether I can do anything about it.

The smile that I wore for over two months is gone, for now, as is the joy I felt. Pushed aside by this unknown bullshit that I guarantee, fucking guarantee, is absolutely nothing in comparison. Because, really, there can be no comparison with that.

So I don't know what's going on with me. All I really know for sure is that it's something stupid and trivial.

I just spent a couple of hours trying to write an entry about something that's been on my mind for a while.

The results were less than stellar. Much less than stellar.

See, I have good ideas so seldom anymore, that when I finally get a good idea, I put all this fucking pressure on myself to write something worthwhile. And I end up with gibberish. And I give up.

It's much easier for me to just let my fingers do all the work while my brain snoozes in the background. That's what I'm doing right now.

This particular good idea, the one I just tried to write about, was born in an email I wrote to RockGirl a couple of weeks ago. An inordinate amount of my good ideas arrive via from that same route. This is because I can tell her anything, and I don't have to censor any of it.

Not like here in this journal, where I have to censor the crap out of myself.

So, I'll write an email to RockGirl, and I'll say some shit about some crap, and I'll go, "Hey, that's pretty deep! I should write an entry about it!"

Happens a lot.

Then I'll try to expand that idea into an entire journal entry, and like I said, I end up with gibberish. Sometimes it's because I have to censor the entry so much that it loses all meaning. But usually it's just because it starts to feel too much like homework writing the thing. I know it's a good idea, and I know I can and should write a good entry about it.

It's the should part that gets me, I think. I don't want to waste the idea on a mediocre entry.

Also, it's 4:00 in the flipping morning now. I've got to get up at 6:30. That sucks big ones.