digital methadone

Back from the Dead, Perhaps?

2007-05-10T03:02:00.000-05:00

I haven't updated this thing in five months. I've always been making little excuses. The list, lately:

1) I'm in a weird relationship that occasionally messes with my head, and I have a habit of only running off at the mouth (or keyboard) when I'm mad at things, and fixing to say stuff I don't mean.

2) I'm in a weird relationship that occasionally makes me gush uncontrollably, and I know how annoying it is to read fluffy blog posts.

3) A lot of times, I've got work-related stuff running through my head, and there are myriad reasons why I shouldn't (read: seriously can't) talk about it.

4) When I'm honest with myself on paper, so to speak, it becomes harder to hide from my problems / failures.

5) Sometimes I get lazy, discouraged, bitter, tired, or all sorts of nasty things that I don't like constantly giving voice to.

That's why I haven't updated in a while. So, I'll summarize the time that's passed, for the few people who may still subscribe to this. Yes, I'm in a relationship, that happened entirely by accident, which is why it's weird. I've turned 21. I've burned out on school yet again, and I'm (of course) completely uncertain where my life's going.

I'm also reconnecting with my adolescent fascination with Linkin Park.

I'm becoming increasingly antisocial as I get older, it seems. When I unfortunately destroyed my cell phone in a cup of water, I had to re-enter all my numbers as my replacement phone can't sync with my computer. I think I had over a hundred in the old one, and I only bothered entering 40 in the replacement. Accounting for multiple numbers, family members, and people I'd want Caller ID to tell me about before I answered, that leaves about ten people I actively talk to.

Time was, friends would call me all the time, I'd talk, I'd go out for the sake of going out, I'd do whatever. Now, I barely talk to anyone, and more often than not, I stay at home when I'm not working, or on weekends. I don't feel like driving everyone everywhere, I don't feel like spending money on amusements, I don't feel like I need to have people around that I can't trust 100%, like I would with my select few "best" friends. I don't know if I've grown out of something, or if I need to grow out of something.

I need to go to bed.

(DB) out.

A Message on Messages

2007-01-08T03:22:00.000-05:00

Despite this pseudo-winter brought about by global warming, I feel like this page is a fresh, virginal snowfall. I need to make footprints.

Aside from the standard fare (IMs, Facebook comments, and half-assed finals), I haven't written in a long time. The passing of the holidays has left me with a number of creative outlets, renewed interest in those outlets, and absolutely no ability to just pick one and go with it for a while. And it's not like I haven't got anything to say, either.

I should probably address something for the sake of continuity: as of the last post, Nameless Boy had popped back up. He's since popped right back down again. Yes, he got another song and a half this time, but no poetry. The good part is, fiction or not, I've had the chance to see him for what he was, unencumbered by blinding desire or overwhelming need. My estimations of him (the pessimistic ones, anyway) were largely right on the money. This however does not mean he's an inhuman monster bent on destroying my well-being. I let him be that a year ago. I didn't let him this time.

I'm sure he'll pop up again sometime, and I'm sure it'll be really inconvenient, life-wise.

One of my least-favorite parts of the holiday season is the flurry of text messages I receive on Christmas. This year, I had a couple from my best friends, a couple from some not-so-best-friends, and a couple from guys with whom I've had... dalliances(?)* over the year. I knew the best friends meant well. I knew the dalliance guys used whatever mass-text option their phones allowed them, and that their messages were harmless. The not-so-best friend texts were the ones that made me beachball in my head for a few minutes.

Does one reply? Does one ignore such messages? As I saw it, a reply risked opening up communication channels that had, for whatever reason, been closed in the recent past. I then thought to myself, "...but, even if there's bad blood, or stagnant friendships, these are holiday messages that I was enough of an insensitive douchebag to ignore." I thought again. If there's bad blood or a stagnant friendship, that's a transparent shot across the bow to remind me of it.

A lot of messages went unanswered this year.

Which brings me to the subject of electronic social warfare. Mind you, not the same kind that happened earlier this year with a certain sea cow. I mean the passive aggressive kind. Seemingly innocuous text messages. Facebook notes that don't name names but leak subtext from every half-baked euphemism. Blogged ruminations on the life and times of people who feel like they've got some explaining to do.

Let me submit, possibly as an aside, that the evil MySpace (and, though I could go on about why it's not as evil, Facebook) is proof that not even a hundred million monkeys with typewriters could produce the works of Shakespeare.

My peers' New Years blog posts are usually my favorite. These are the ones that contain reflections on their major life events, celebrations of new romance (or, hell, celebrations of ended romance), realization of future ambitions, or anything that seemed like it'd be worth mentioning. Of course, this being the holiday season I finally figured out the sport that is competitive gift-giving, I completely and totally regard these posts as a proclamation of "Look at me, everyone!" I think it's quite funny.

One sentence, however, can be found in every single one I've seen so far. It goes along the lines of, "In 2006, I learned alot [sic] about my real friends and who they are." Granted, these sermons are entirely run-of-the-mill at any time of the year on any digital soapbox one can think of. New Years, however, brings them all out to play.

A note on digital soapboxes: The internet is public. What's more, social networking sites are designed so that users are easily (if not automatically) informed of when other users change their status, talk to someone, or go to the damn bathroom. Users know this, and take advantage of it. When someone issues a note saying, "well, I guess I know who my real friends are," they're really saying "you've pissed me off, you son of a bitch, and you know who you are, too," and they know that everyone will instantly know it's been said.

It all comes down to this, a call to writers, bloggers, and typewriter-equipped monkeys everywhere: Don't use automatic, passive methods to draw attention to yourself. Don't write the same, phony self-affirmations over and over again in an attempt to convince others that you've got yourself sorted. Don't resort to indirectness just because you want to say something unpleasant without sounding like a person who says unpleasant things on the internet. And please, please drop the internet shorthand. It's so 1998.

Write if you have something to say. Say it directly, and say it well.

I'm going to make serious efforts to enjoy this year.

(DB) out.

*I might be pushing the edge of literal meaning with this word. Go ahead. Call me filthy names.

Living Fiction

2006-11-26T02:31:00.000-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen, it's been too long. All my readers know what's been up lately, so I won't bother trying to catch up on the past three months unless it, you know, becomes relevant or something.

I'm choosing to focus on the last three days, in terms of how they turned the entirety of the past year inside out.

My entire outlook on romance over the past year is based on a fabrication.

Not necessarily a lie. A lie implies untruth. It's fiction: it could be true, but it is largely my own construction. Let's start with the basics.

Nameless Boy hurt me. A good bit. From some of my non-blog writing, most of which hasn't seen the light of day outside of a few choice folks, I've come to realize that I was so hurt not because of anything he said or did, but because I didn't really get any good closure out of it. Our final conversation last winter was bitter, it was unpleasant, it was chock full of nasty emotions, and me finally coming out with my (if not a little crazy) feelings and writing him off.

Here's how it was: I liked him, a lot. He was fabulous. He was dark, mysterious, inviting only to the curious type, intelligent, the list of adjectives goes on and on. (Cocky, too, as he'd made up quite the list for himself on his MySpace.) I fell for him, pretty hard, pretty easy. And he freaked out because 1) he'd been hurt, and 2) I was coming on a little strong. I can't apologize for my actions at this point, nor can I apologize for his: I was blinded by emotions, and so was he, just a different set of emotions from mine.

In the way of romance, I'm used to getting whoever I want, which sounds terrible. Also, that doesn't necessarily mean much, because I have a habit of only allowing myself to want people I know I can have. Nameless Boy was the exception. I felt like there was no way he'd ever really go for me, and I didn't give a damn, I wanted him anyway. I wanted to feel like ultimately, I deserved someone who was everything I was looking for. And I wanted that so much, and didn't hide it very much, and ended up losing out.

Not to say that it's entirely my fault: he certainly did me wrong when he neglected to call me, or when he would tell me how much he liked me but tell me how much he didn't think a relationship was a good idea. He sent so many mixed messages. There were moments where I finally felt like, "yes, I do deserve to have what I want, and now I have it," only to be followed by moments where I wondered if I was just talking to myself when he was around.

So yes, I did write him off. But even after a couple months, the catharsis never came. I was never satisfied with any of his explanations for why he acted the way he did. To me, whatever he said was only the tip of the iceberg, and I wasn't content to take any of it at face value.

Through the lens of my need-driven infatuation, I viewed him as a monster, someone who cut me to pieces with no shame, no regrets, no desire to even understand the consequences. I hated him, because I needed to fill that void the opposite emotion leaves when left unrequited.

I felt like I couldn't hate something just out of not understanding it. So I filled in whatever blanks I needed to. If he confessed to doing something bad once, he became a serial offender. If he was willing to push me away when I knew for a fact he cared about me, then he was obviously insane. If he hurt me, one person out of six-plus billion, then he didn't deserve the air he breathed.

I spent the past year deciding that I was tired of bullshit, tired of playing games with people, and ultimately certain that if someone wasn't good for me, I wasn't sticking around to find out how long I could handle it. I wanted to avoid the fictional supervillain I'd created, and all others who might do similar things to me.

Of the three significant ex's I had, the mean time I spent with each was a month. And it all never worked out for perfectly legitimate reason: one wasn't mature enough, one was way too involved with his (our) friends and scene, and the last one wasn't compatible enough with my scene. I break hearts for a living, and always under the rationale that I'd rather be lonely and self-assured than with someone who wasn't perfect. My writing began to reflect that, and I was totally okay with that. Emotional independence can be a beautiful feeling. Moreover, it's easily maintained when the walls of ice I build around myself are big enough to resist melting for just any little flame. It might be cold in here, but at least it's safe.

Until almost a year after his departure, that Nameless Boy shows back up and owns up to everything he did and didn't do. Tells me how much he cares for me, how much he regrets what happened and wants a chance to get things right. Walls of ice, meet the Sun.

Now, he takes every chance he can get to reinforce that he's sorry, and then remind me that he, too, never stopped caring. Uses words like "admire" and "wish" and "amazing." Even sounded apprehensive after I mentioned my outlook on romance, wondering if I'd stay icy and reserved and leave at the first chance to be rid of him. When he laughs, he actually sounds like he's letting go and really laughing. At this point, I'm wondering when I'm going to wake up from this, because it seems too good to be true: the object of my desires reappears out of the past and tells me that he really did care, still does, and wants to do things right?

Part of me wants to doubt this. And a good number of my friends want to doubt this, too, because while I eventually started owning up to my own neurotic fiction, I'm not sure too many of them know the whole story. The other part of me, though, says I shouldn't doubt this. I have no reason to. After a year of dreaming up reasons to hate him, I'd be the first person able to smell a rat and detect an ulterior motive. But I've smelled none.

2006 saw me train myself to actually enjoy not needing someone. And the moment that thought makes its way into words, the person responsible for it all comes back. And of course, I don't need him. By all rights, he should be the last person I'd need. But since I saw him in 2005, he was the only person I truly wanted, and despite history, that never changed one single, tiny bit.

an attempt at consistency

2006-08-30T00:48:00.000-05:00

So, my grandma, last time I checked, is recovering nicely from the heart surgery. Now, since a hip-breaking fall was what landed her in the hospital in the first place, she just needs to have that taken care of before anything can officially be declared alright again.

In other news, school started this week. Pleasantly, it turns out my friend Mandi (who I haven't really seen for a year, but ran into at work a couple weeks ago) is in my first two classes. My third class is taught by the psych professor I had over the summer, and since I loved her, I was elated to find that out. Finally, my last class is automatically better than the previous time I tried to take it, because there is finally efficient air conditioning in the weight room. Now all I have to do is kick my nasty macaroni and cheese addiction and I might actually get something accomplished.

I felt like I should write something to consume the time this podcast is taking to download- a coworker recommended a Dutch podcast that has an hour-long crazy techno session every week. Marco's musical tastes haven't led me astray before, so I had to check it out. Now, if only these files didn't feel like they were several hundred megs apiece... real estate is quite limited on my little albino PowerBook.

Okay, only about 70MB apiece. Not too bad.

I feel like I should have more intelligent things to contribute, considering how eventful these past few weeks have been. However, I'm consumed with three thoughts: 1) Jason would really, really get off on this techno stuff, 2) I need to watch Logo more, because mm, those mens is delicious, and 3) it's great to be back at school. Not like I really left for all that long, but it feels good to be back, and it feels good to see a huge number of my friends there. I think this was the first time that I didn't feel alone (and secretly jealous) on the first day back to school. This is the first year that everyone in my local social sphere has been here at the same time, and the first time back after successfully finishing a semester.

My brain's being consumed by techno. I have to stop writing now.

(DB) out.

an explanation for the last three weeks

2006-08-24T01:00:00.001-05:00

The past couple of weeks have been super turbulent, and a huge mess. A brief summary, with key points bolded for easy reference:

Finals Week this time was for some reason much more pressing than the last. I ended up having to take a week off work to finish three papers and two powerpoint presentations, do two take-home finals, and study for the two in-class finals. My hard work paid off and I finished my two classes with an A and a B, respectively.

I was supposed to go on vacation immediately after my last night of class, but some unfortunate circumstances arose with Jinah's family, with whom we were going. So we ended up leaving on Sunday rather than Friday morning. I was disappointed, but I did end up getting to go to the drive-in with a bunch of friends on Friday night, which proved an enjoyable and inexpensive way to while away an evening. That alone made the delay worth it. Saturday, I did some housework I'd put off for ages, and then guiltily went off and spent $100 (!) at Walmart on a new outfit, a substantial amount of much-needed toiletries (vacation or not), and equipment / soaps / sprays to clean off my dirty car. Even if I planned to park it once I got there, I wasn't about to roll down Coastal Highway covered in pollen and bird shit. After washing the car, Jinah and I finished packing, picked up Adam, and were all ready to get going..

When all of a sudden, my car begins to issue puffs of smoke out of the hood. Turns out the power steering fluid was leaking everywhere, causing the car to stink, and of course, explaining some of the subtle steering problems I've noticed of late. So, less than nine hours before we were scheduled to leave, my car is unable to make the trip. Fortunately, my parents decided to take me, Jinah, and Adam down, because there was no way everyone, everyone's luggage, and a dog was going to fit in a single Ford Taurus.

Once we arrived, though, the trip turned out amazing. It was very relaxing, and unlike the last time I went (senior week) I actually made it to the beach daily, between morning trips and evening walks. My money managed to last me throughout the trip, we didn't tire out our patience for each other, and I finally finished reading this book I've ignored for the past year, save for bookshelf relocations. My head cleared, I reaffirmed my confidence in feelings I've had for my friend Mike (not Stuart, for those of you who might have thought so), though uncertainty caused me to shy away from previous attempts to act on them. I managed to turn a shade darker without getting a sunburn, and I managed to accomplish everything I wanted to.

My favorite realization came when I spent an hour in the library, on my computer and on the phone, trying to sort out my classes for the fall. Regardless of where I was, I still had my computer and reasonably accessible WiFi. I still had my phone, so I exchanged texts and calls with people at home fairly often. Even without WiFi, I can get to my work-related emails from my phone anyhow. So, despite romantic notions of going on vacation to escape from one's daily life, I was as connected in Ocean City as I ever am in Baltimore. I wasn't enjoying myself because I was away, I was enjoying myself because I was at the beach. That simple thought process amplified how wonderful everything already was. When it came time to return home, I felt refreshed, relaxed, and ready to start back up with life again; it was a very liberating feeling. My car had been repaired in my absence, my ailing dog hadn't died while I was away, and I'd finally hammered out a schedule for the fall. I felt as though Life had given me an hour-long massage, topped off with a pat on the back.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, it turned out that I would very much need it.

On Monday, I drove to work and discovered that my car had taken to overheating again, and I had no money to buy any more coolant. When I arrived at work, I came to find that I was scheduled for the next six days in a row. Not like I've got anything else to do this week, and I did tell them to schedule me for anything when I got back, but it's still a bit of a jerk back to reality. I dealt with it.

Monday night, when I got home from work, I found that my dog (Prince) was bleeding profusely from one of the tumors on his stomach. Now, he was loaded up with cancer, arthritis, and was blind and deaf. We knew his days were numbered, but when that point came, we knew it was time to have him put down. So, we cried a lot, called the emergency vet clinic, and took him over. They made us sit around for 45 minutes with Prince shivering on a cold metal exam table before they actually came to euthanize him.

They tranquilized him, and his eyes finally closed and he fell asleep. Then, they injected the lethal drugs, and neglected to mention that when they took effect, certain reflexes would be activated. So here we are, my dad, my brother, and myself, all crying as they stick the needle into the IV, and listening to his breathing slow down. Suddenly, his eyes fly back open and he starts gasping, his face contorts and his body convulses. His eyes are crossed and stuck open. By this point we'd all ran out of the room, sobbing. I'm fairly sure that image will never ever leave my memory.

I'm only hoping they were telling the truth, that Prince was really dead when that happened, and not jolted back to consciousness in those final moments to find his heart stopped and his lungs no longer working. I feel like it's what we had to do, and that it was better than waiting for him to be consumed by cancer, or waiting for him to fall down a flight of stairs because he couldn't see and could barely walk. But it's taking a much longer time to reconcile that because from the horrible things I saw, nothing looked peaceful and dignified about the way he died. Since nobody I know has ever been euthanized and lived to tell the tale, I'll never know if he felt any of it or not.

We got home at 11:30, and I had to be at work at 9am, to teach a one-on-one class. I was in no condition to go to bed though, and went out for a ride with Mike to get some fresh air and clear my head. My puppy was still gone, and I was running on no sleep, but the class turned out well, and work went well otherwise. I still didn't feel right, though.

Adam and Jinah met up with me after work to treat me to sushi, in hopes of cheering me up. It largely worked. Until I got a call from my dad, stating that my grandmother was in intensive care, because she'd apparently suffered at least two heart attacks and either not known about them or not told anybody about them, and they'd caught up with her. Given that I was at dinner and she wasn't taking visitors, there was nothing that I could really do, except try not to let it get me down. Jinah and Adam told me they'd buy me some coolant, too.

So we get to Walmart (a-fucking-gain) and buy some coolant, throw it in to the engine, and drive back to my house. The car overheats. At this point, I'm inside, sitting on the couch, trying not to think, "well, my dog's dead, my grandmother's dying, and my car's dying too." That thought didn't subside, though, as evidenced by last night's away message.

This morning, my car didn't overheat, and later in the day, I got news that my grandmother was stabilized, at least for now, even though things are looking quite dire for her at the moment. After work, Jinah, Adam, and Mike treated me to the $3 movies to see Clerks 2, and here I am, typing this.

These past two (now three, whatever) days could very easily depress the hell out of anyone. I feel like I'm keeping myself fairly well-grounded considering the small amount of time that's passed. The thing that disturbs me the most is this pattern I seem to fall into every year or so. I'm positioned to succeed academically, but then something bad happens involving someone close to me, I get stressed out, stop caring, and give up.

It happened two years ago the first time I went to college, involving a whopping fight with my parents. A year ago, it happened when Brad and I broke up, which I would qualify as a more stressful ordeal than the previous year's fight. This year, my dog dies (I'll very seriously consider strangling you if you think that's not a big deal), and I might lose my grandma. And my car, $1700 after its first repair, still may be on the verge of falling apart.

I feel like it progressively gets worse and worse. But, I have to put any feelings of grief or dread on the back burner, and focus on one thing alone: avoiding self-pity at all costs. In a nutshell, shit happens. And while I'd like to feel like I'm the victim of some cosmic conspiracy, and it'd damn sure be easy to think that right now, I won't. None of this is anybody's fault, and while I'd so desperately like to blame someone, I can't. I can't blame any person, I can't blame God, and I can't blame myself. If I start to do any of those things, I'll be setting myself up for the same trains of thought that have consistently set me on a course towards apathy and failure in the past.

As much as all of this blows, I'm lucky enough to be the one doing all the mourning, rather than being the mourned. Yes, I'm in pain, but I'm alive, and that in and of itself is a mandate to keep it together, and maintain as much momentum as I can. Unlike the loved ones I've lost and may be losing, I have a long future ahead of me. And if I let myself slip on account of all this, I'd be doing them a great disservice: I love(d) them, they love(d) me, and the last thing any of us would want would be pain overtaking me, facilitating yet another crash-and-burn.

I don't know which of the stages of grief I would assign to any of my reactions, but I like to think that I'm keeping my head on straight about all this. If any of you readers have any reactions, thoughts, suggestions, or anything, please, don't hesitate to let me know.

(DB) out.

Being Fashionable

2006-07-30T01:57:00.000-05:00

(Avid readers, I promise a real post about my real life is coming soon.)

Apparently, blog-hating is in vogue.

After a long and uncomfortable calme d'inquietude (archaic French, don't bother looking it up, try to infer) with a certain former friend of mine, it's come to my attention that she's been talking about me by name in her MySpace blog. For easy reference, the "gay pothead" she's referring to isn't me. Of those two things, I am only one, and I think the conclusion's fairly easy to draw.

But, aside from a few glaring capitalization and grammatical errors, she's got some of the facts a little off. Not that's she's wrong: all of those things are true, or at the very least, could be. What disturbs me is the horrible number of omissions she's made.

So, in the interest of furthering the fine art of blog-hating, my little dugong (here, in case anyone needs to look that up), here are some pointers.

Firstly: I do admire your adherence to the truth in the first few bits of your assault on me: I do know everything. And I damn well certainly think I do, as well. But honey, you couldn't be further from the truth when you say it doesn't matter what you say to me. It definitely does matter: without you, I wouldn't have anything to serve as the subject of minimal contemplation and more substantial amounts of chuckling before I go to bed some nights. So the assertion that what you say doesn't matter is completely unfounded. The same joys you provide me are the same joys you provide to many others.

Secondly: Here's where we start to run into some problems. Where you say that people talking crap about me always come and tell me. Yes, by my own admission, that happens most of the time. But if it doesn't, I have a lovely surprise for you: I don't care. I invite you to scroll down a bit and read the rest of this blog, here, and try to wrap your sirenian brain (see wikipedia link above) around the endless piss and vinegar I self-deprecatingly spew out about myself on a daily basis. Though your tone lends a bit of sarcasm to the sentence in question, your diatribe largely ignores the fact that there are few, if any, things that anyone could say about me that are worse than the things I say about myself.

To go off on those, for a minute: You totally forgot to mention that I only have a sense of direction when I don't have any other viable life choices left. And, come on? The fact that I tend to trust everything and everyone except my own emotions, often to my detriment? I totally left that one open for you and you missed it. Let's not forget the past run-ins I've had with alcohol and substance abuse, the heartbreaks I've caused and suffered, and how the guilt I associate with them is often deeply rooted in a sense of personal inadequacy. Throughout the course of our friendship, I gave you gold. I feel just in demanding a little courtesy on your part- please use my contributions to the best of your ability.

Lastly, I wholeheartedly embrace your suggestion to believe what I want! Seriously, that's wonderful. I like being encouraged to pursue my own thoughts and ideas. Comments like that help me reaffirm my faith in my own belief system. Sometimes, it's just the little things in life that make the biggest differences. Just like Twinkies, yeah?

My final problem, though, leaps into the spotlight when you tell me to get real. You seem to have misapplied the best of the resources available to you; including but not limited to years' worth of memories, intimate conversations, and a crippled-yet-still-extant ability to self-actualize and see traces of that in others. To break it down:

I am neurotic. I am insecure. I have low-self esteem. I am the king of Too Much Information. I think I know it all, and when I say I do, I mean it. I am stubborn. I make mistakes, and stick by them until the very last possible minute. I have been known to say nasty things about people, and I take responsibility for those things. I have faith, (occasionally too much, as evidenced by the travails of attempting to reason with you), that those with whom I surround myself do the same.

Like before, your attempts to hurt my feelings or make me doubt my friends (and myself) have failed. I hope, in the future, you can take some of the pointers here and write something truly incisive, something that does draw as much blood as I think you were hoping for.

I am grossly offended, though, by the suggestion that I am not, in fact, real. Though I doubt my own existence from time to time, there is nothing fictitious about how I am in touch with my own feelings, how I ultimately respect the people I care about, or how I live my life. One's internal view of all those things is all that really matters in life, aside from looking outside of oneself to find new ways to learn and love. As such, your suggestion to get real is one of the flimsiest things you've ever said to me- I'm as real as they get. I hope that one day, discounting an untimely encounter between your back and a speedboat, you will eventually be able to say the same about yourself.

(DB) out.

Author's note: No dugongs, or surprisingly enough, bottles of wine, were harmed in the writing of this entry.

i'm an IM away from quoting sarah mclachlan in my title

2006-07-17T20:30:00.000-05:00

Today was hot.

I worked, I napped, I went to school. That was about it.

Right now I'm sitting on the porch, of course, not really doing anything. I'm deciding when this moth / june beetle is eventually going to end up in my hair.

Oop, there it goes. Granted, five minutes passed between me typing the previous sentence and typing this one, but yeah. It was only a matter of time.

DC Boy is already screwing with my head without knowing he's doing it. When we talk online, and we're not talking about something he brought up, he feels every bit of those 47 miles away.

Attractive, emotionally distant, but able to captivate my curiosity enough to keep me guessing? Sound familiar, anyone?

I want to cancel the date, just so I can disappoint him before he gets the chance to do it to me. That's not what good people do, but if that what it takes to protect myself, then that's what I'll have to do.

I want to shove a coat hanger up my noise, and pull out the part of my brain responsible for processing emotions. Then, I'd be a real man.

(DB) out.

new strings

2006-07-15T22:15:00.001-05:00

...Is the title of a country song that, surprisingly, I like.

I worked today. I picked up a pizza. I helped my mom set up her iPod shuffle, because she's going into surgery on Monday and wants music to listen to.

Come to think of it, I worked all day.

And you know, I really don't have anything worth saying, other than the standard, "I only feel like a legitimate life form in the biological sense, and barely even then."

I fucking don't exist, seriously.

Alors, je suis aller un date avec ce garçon, l'un qui habite en DC. Et ce soir, il me dit, "J'ai un date avec ce homme bisexuel, ainsi je sors avec ma copine, et il pourrait y avoir un peu de competition."

Je suis comme, "Quoi?" Aprés un moment, il dit, "Ne t'en fait pas, j'anticipe nos date :-) "

Je suis comme, "Quoi?"

Ce n'est pas quelque chose on dit à quelqu'un qu'on aime. That's' somewhat amusing, attempting to measure keystorkes per minute. Actually, I could probably amuse myself for quite some time looking at the keyboard viewer, doing this.

Despite my quasi-bastardized attempts at French, I was taken aback. Do people really say that to other people? If you were talking to someone, and you and that person were eventually planning to go on a date, would you mention that you have a date with some bisexual guy who's leaving for Venezuela in a few days, and that you're taking a female friend with you?

He said not to think anything of it, and that he was still really looking forward to our date, which is in a week, now.

I am so bored. And feeling insecure.

commercial theme songs

2006-07-13T15:56:00.000-05:00

I don't know why, but the Lamisil commercial music is stuck in my damn head. I don't have foot fungus, but I'd definitely check them out if I did. Maybe because I watch TV too ritualistically. I don't watch it often, but I catch ST:DS9 at the same time every day, so I see the exact same commercials.

I'll tell you, I'd call AIG just to have them laugh at me, then demand videos of Bill eating that live squid.

Not much has gone on. My life is completely dry. I might go to the beach in a couple weeks, but my parents are likely going to yell at me and proclaim that since I owe them so much money, I can't afford it. And, they're right. Doesn't mean I can't hope for a vacation though.

I don't know. These past couple days I've felt like the weather- sticky, monotonous, and occasionally overcast. Lately, my time's been spent in the same routine, doing the same things with the same people, under the same conditions. I accept that, because this routine is key to attaining success in the future. I don't like, though, how it's changing me as a person.

My biological clock is in sync with my schedule, which is weird enough. I'm not used to going to sleep without fearing that I won't wake up in time.

The problem is, I feel like a machine. Everything working like clockwork: input, process, output, feedback. Go to school, digest knowledge, apply it to homework and tests, then think about how I did. Go to work, do some specializing, get paid, then spend all my money, thus necessitating a return to work. Go out with friends, contemplate a very limited set of activities, pick one and do it, then go home thinking about how we used to have a lot more fun. All the while, I have limited amounts of time to eat, and no money, and no good food to choose from, so I just starve starve starve eat a lot starve starve, etc. So my body's not firing on all cylinders, which is obviously bad. My mind's not too happy about it, either, because we all know how self-conscious I am about my weight, even though I rarely do anything about it.

Random IM Quote: Face it, biotch. I have more gravity than you. When you walk, you're moving towards something. When I walk, things are really just falling in my direction.

Yes, this is how "real life" works. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Aside from Saturday nights, on which I know that I don't have work or school the next day (and even then, I probably have housework to do), I don't ever really relax. I've got the constant knowledge that the next step of the cycle is looming on the horizon, and after it all comes to fruition, it resets and has to be done all over again. After spending this summer getting used to it, I don't like it at all, but I don't see myself as having any choice, really.

It's hard to associate the fun, unpredictable past with the virtually nonexistent shot at a good future. That is, though, how the cookie crumbles.

It's been commented that I don't seem as alive as I once did. And, the person who said that is right. I don't feel as alive as I once did. And when questioned about it, I immediately churned out a response to the tune of, "blah blah, irresponsible behavior got me where I was, blah blah I'm working towards my future, blah blah I regret the choices I made and I'm grateful that I now have a chance to do something about them."

Honestly, though: I don't regret a damn thing. I loved feeling alive, I loved feeling like I really didn't answer to anyone, and I loved feeling that, no matter how much of a disadvantage I put myself at, the world really was my oyster, because I was free to choose where I wanted to be.

Of course I'm free to choose. But, if my only viable choice for enjoying the rest of my life requires giving up most of what I enjoy now, am I really living, and am I really free?

How I would love to have my cake and eat it, too.

(DB) out.

insert frustrated onomatopoeia here

2006-07-11T20:59:00.000-05:00

Eleanor's in the shop again.

Whilst driving to Jin's to pick her up for school, it started making that "replace the damn serpentine belt, already" noise. The steering stiffened, the fans slowed. It was bad. I made it to her house, popped the hood, and found coolant everywhere. All over the entire engine compartment, leaking all over her driveway, the culmination of a solid line of fluid trailing from me the entire way down her street.

Thankfully, her mom took us to school, and was nice enough to assist me in dropping the car off at the shop. Seriously though, I'm quite upset, and all I want is for this just to be done with and working properly.

Math scares me. I hate algebra, and there's no reason anyone should ever have to do it. I'm sure arguments could be made that algebra has in some way made possible everything I know and love about life, but I don't care. It needs to be left to those who enjoy doing it.

Once again, I am uninspired. I can't tell if I'm hungry, tired, nauseous, or sleepy. The thought of doing practice problems for math makes me ill.

Maybe I'll go to bed or something.

(DB) out.

"they are nowhere in her thoughts as she dives beneath the waves"

2006-07-10T23:55:00.000-05:00

Brief recap, for those paying attention to the fact that I didn't blog yesterday-

Sunday was an exercise in sin and vice. Mostly gluttony. (Dave and I each ate an entire medium pizza, and talked smack about men.) Did get to see Bell, which was nice, though the apartment felt empty sans Courtney. I remember when she and Bell, then me, Brad, Nicole, and whoever else practically lived there, all were one big dysfunctional family. It was great. Greener pastures, though, seem to have called all of us.

Today, I had a doctor's appointment (which was fairly pointless), my algebra class, and then hung out with Jinah and her mom, then her dad, brother, and friend Andy. We made chocolate/caramel fondue on a whim, and sat and ate it with fresh fruit, ruminating upon the fine points of life. Well, if you count talking about being overweight (probably from eating whole pizzas and fondue), lamenting classes, and our ever-so-cryptic personal identities "fine points." There were other important bits of discussion, but that's not my business to get into, so if you feel like knowing, ask Jin.

Tomorrow, I start up my philosophy class, in addition to the algebra class I started tonight. I'm not looking forward to algebra, so I'm hoping philosophy will be fun. Psych will be hard to beat, but anywhere in that league would be acceptable.

Anybody have comments of the feasibility of taking out student loans so I can better afford tuition, living expenses, and a MacBook Pro? Granted, the MBP probably costs more than the other two combined, but it's all important to me. ;-) (boo, I want a 2GHz PowerPC laptop, though. Oh well.)

This entry's title comes from a song by The Presets, called "Girl and the Sea." It was last week's iTunes freebie and I can't keep myself from listening to it at least once daily. For some reason, the imagery combined with the sound makes me happy.

All I've got lately are bits of no consequence, and other peoples' stories. If I ever have to look back on the part of my life preceding this one, and if I'm ever asked to justify it, I'd probably respond by saying, "at least I had a lot of stories." Stories are important to me. I guess being a writer (or something like it) will do that. Other peoples' stories are amusing- I couldn't pass one of Dave's off as my own to save my life- but I'm far more satisfied by writing my own, and they seem to be in short supply lately.

What does that mean to me? Why are stories so important anyway? I think they evoke a sense of longevity, even if I'm the only person who ever reads what I write down. Somewhere, somehow, somebody could read my writing, and remember it. I ultimately hope that one day, something I write will change someone's life, but that might be too much to hope for.

That's why they're called hopes, I guess.

I was thinking about roughing out a screenplay a few days ago, but I realized, I have no idea what it's about. This is when I should've been working on my paper, and should've been attending to some laundry, or something. My creativity peaks when I'm using it to distract myself from something more important I need to be doing. How else could I have rationalized warp drive in my head when I was about 9? Oh, because I watch too much Star Trek. But seriously though, theoretical physics (without math) are totally cool, and I'm totally smart, so shut up, poophead.

All these time-travel themed couple of days seem to have gotten to me.

You know? Check the gravy. I might write a story that is and isn't mine.

(DB) out.

time travel, II

2006-07-09T00:21:00.000-05:00

Today blew.

Not really. Just the part before work. And then a little bit of the part after it, when I realized.. "Damn. Jinah is one of the only people in the world who knows my house phone number... I guess I have to wake up now." My nap was interrupted but I'm fairly sure that's better than sitting around the house with nothing to do.

We went to the Avenue, which isn't exactly on my hot list of destinations, but hell, we had nothing else to do. It really did feel like I was 15 again, though- some of Nackie's friends (Adam's friend, aka Justin, or Midget, for those who don't know) were a little less than mature, and.. well, embarrassing. It's been literally years since I've had someone come up to me, or my friends, and say "Are you guys patronizing any of the businesses? Loitering is not permitted, so I'll have to ask you to move along."

Matters were complicated further when Nackie (who is 17, but very seriously looks like he's 13) was carded. For walking after 9:30. Ridiculous. I haven't been a mallrat in so long, and it feels weird to be in that group that, when apart from it, I'd look at and think, "God, get a life."

We ended up settling in Chili's, grabbing a quite bite, then hanging out at Nackie's with a hundred different domestic animals and seemingly endless family members popping out of the woodwork. Okay, so maybe it was more like two big dogs, two cats, a screeching bird, and three family members other than his mom. Then I came home.

I feel like I could've done more interesting things on a Saturday where I'm done with work at 4:30, but I think I used it to the best of my ability. Or perhaps my whims. Or some combination thereof.

I don't know what I'm doing with myself tomorrow, probably a whole lot of nothing, or griping about doing a whole lot of nothing. Maybe I'll... oh hell. I'm not even going to pretend like I have an idea.

I want to write, I feel kinda like writing, but at the same time I kinda don't, and I also feel like I have nothing to write about. What I will say, though, is I'm entirely jealous of every Mac user out there whose computer can run Garageband, because mine can't and I really think I'd have fun venting creativity into it.

I dunno, maybe I'll write more later.

(DB) out.

time travel

2006-07-07T00:26:00.000-05:00

I feel like I've traveled back in time.

$981 ago (or any time in the last nine months, depending on who's in the know), my beloved Eleanor had this little problem where she would overheat constantly, had a license plate light missing, and as a result, I couldn't run the AC or drive at night without fear of being pulled over. This time, fortunately, has passed.

It's chilly and smells like fall outside. My theme for this fall is "Don't fall in love with any alcoholic cokeheads." I miss the old falls, when we'd all be getting ready for the plays, and we'd all be planning our trips to Huber's for the hayride, and we'd all be planning Halloween parties and cast parties and terrorizing TGI Friday's and feeling cool about it because technically, it was a school function so provisional license restrictions didn't apply. Oh, and we all didn't hate each other. That was nice, too.

In a strange way, I miss Laurie, too. Despite the problems our relationship had, including her being a girl and me liking boys, I miss how much I loved her, and how much she loved me, and how generally, everything was alright. Aside from sexual orientation and having spats about whose friends hated each other, I look back through my rose-tinted glasses and see us as perfect. I think she's okay now, at least I hope so. When last I heard she was done with that one boyfriend of hers, who didn't particularly care for me at all, to the point of freaking out at her whenever he heard my voice through the phone when I was around... that'd be nice. I just emailed her, in hopes that I'll hear back and get a chance to catch up. That is, if she ever checks that email address anymore. I might've just attempted to contact a complete stranger. Or maybe she really hated me, and her boyfriend was just a front. I don't think that's the case, though.

I have an A in my Comps class, and I almost certainly have an A in my Psych class. That excites me. It feels like... ten years ago. That was the last time a report card had an A on it, other than the ones in my name. Now, I just have to keep the trend going.

I'm tired. I feel aimless. I kinda want to go to sleep, I kinda don't, I have no idea. I kinda want to grab something to eat but I feel like I'm not really hungry, and that I'm just bored. Although, I didn't really eat a proper dinner- a dollar menu cheeseburger, and a 5-piece chicken nugget thing several hours later... hmm. Maybe I do have license to be hungry, but given that I've eaten fast food today, I don't know where a meal would fit in my calorie budget.

NM- problem solved- Star Trek is on.

(DB) out.

fireworks, or a conspicuous lack thereof

2006-07-07T00:23:00.000-05:00

So, let me preface today's entry with this: I haven't slept since yesterday.

I spent all day and all night working on a paper, which I probably should have spend more time working on before then... but oh well. Bygones.

My procrastination kept me from being able to attend any of the 4th of July fireworks in person, but from my smoky roost on my back porch, I definitely heard every firecracker in a ten-mile radius. I felt like the kid who was home sick on a field trip, or had a broken leg when everyone else was going to the beach. Actually, in my past, I've been both of those kids, so I guess the experience wasn't all that alien to me.

Regardless, I busted a ton of ass (most of it my own) and got the paper done. Aside from two finals tomorrow and possibly a project in Comps class today, I'm officially done with my first set of classes. And, presuming excellent scores on my exams, I should have A's in both classes. Of course, next Monday starts the song and dance anew with two different classes. But, one thing at a time. Even though I'll have work most of the time between now and then, I still want to enjoy what small victories I can.

My car... I took her into the shop. I said she had a bad thermostat. And I was right, except for not noticing that she had bad radiator hoses, and a coolant leak from the intake manifold gasket. It sounds nasty, it sounds complicated... and it is both of those things. And, we all know what nasty and complicated mean for car repairs: expensive. That little $150 repair turned into a $981 repair. Booooo.

Right now, I'm sitting in the only way I can that doesn't give away the fact that there's something wrong with my display. I'm at school because I could only get a ride over with my mom, two hours before class starts. And you know what? I'm wearing a decent outfit, typing on a "trendy" Mac, Red Bull and iPod on the table next to my messenger bag. I don't care if I look like I couldn't define the word "situp" from the way this position is gracelessly showcasing my curves. I'm cool e-fucking-nough.

Hopefully I'll be able to pick up my car this afternoon, then settle in for one hell of a nap. It will be a welcome departure from consciousness.

Presently, I've been playing with iTunes, and trying to decide what to do. The

This post is now like two days in the making. I'm not even going to try.

love wine, hate linksys

2006-07-02T00:29:00.000-05:00

My router has kicked me off twice in ten minutes, probably setting a new record for how sucky Linksys routers are. Completely not working would necessitate replacement, but selectively not working (it's only my computer and my mom's) is just cheeky. Not fun cheeky, though. Just mean.

I've been really blog-negligent these past few days, for which there is no great reason. i've been busy. I've been relatively tapped for things to talk about. My life is pretty much the same, day in and day out: My car needs fixing. School occupies a lot of my time. I'm down to three friends I see with any semblance of frequency (that's counting Jinah's mom, who I positively adore). And, I'm of course, just slipping by on enough money to fear just how much totally broke hurts.

One development, though- my car overheated and nearly stalled as I tried to make a left turn today. I think I'm taking it to BJ's tomorrow, if they're open.

Now, though, I shall enjoy my wine and relatively calm weather, and not obsess over the little stupid things that give me a drive to improve my life.

I finish up my classes this week. Of course, I start new classes next week, but it's hard to believe that after only five weeks, that's six credits under my belt. I really only wish the fall semester could pass by as quickly; I feel like I'm actually accomplishing things, rather than letting ambitions lie fallow.

I've been trying to eat healthy. My parents only buy filth, though. So, I get a sense of satisfaction when I tie up the kitchen for an hour trying to throw together something nutritious (or not even, my main requisite is minimal-guilt or guilt-free), and I get to say, "Well, you folks are trying to poison me with these microwaveable intolerabilities!"

The day, though, that I manage to string that sentence together while toiling over a stove... well, that shall be a strange day.

On wine- It's best to drink it when it belongs to other people, because then one thinks twice about the temptation to finish a whole damn bottle. Further, it's best to drink it when it is not offered, but left around for general consumption. One person presenting a bottle of wine to share with another can lead to unpleasant indiscretions. And soreness.

Hah.
(a beat)
I was just about to type something bitter and nasty, but then I thought, perhaps I should save those remarks for other outlets. And maybe, just maybe, I'll pour myself a second glass of wine.

So, for the interesting reading that's been so sorely missing in this here blog, I posit the question, when do you know that real life has hit? Looking at my nine-year plan for amassing degree after degree, finding some sort of job, getting someplace to live.. Well, I remember when I was a kid, there were two timeframes: Now, and Future, separated by the now widely used linguistic / typographical convention that is the lone ? Although looking at where it all should fit chronologically, I feel like ? is where I'm at. Future is still on the horizon, but that pesky punctuatory purgatory (oh, what old grapes can do for alliteration) still remains cloudy.

Will it feel like real life once I'm done my bachelors? Or will that still not be enough? Will I take the stance of the professional student, and remain in college until I'm 30, chasing after a doctorate and a shot at a top-drawer job with a top-dollar salary? Or will it be when I buy my first house, or my first new car, or when I wake up in the morning and think to myself, "hmm, maybe I should start thinking about life insurance?" No, that's "old age," not real life. My thinking is, real life never hits. We are all to walk around with invisible credentials whose obtainment once meant the world to us, and ultimately settle into jobs we really thought we were working so hard to skip over.

Then, maybe one day with enough luck, we might get those dream jobs we always thought about getting. But, even that might not feel like the threshold between ? and Future, because... I don't know. That wick just burned itself out.

Disclaimer: When I said "interesting reading" three paragraphs ago, I might have meant something like philosophical rambling. That's for you to decide.

I have to wake up relatively early, take the car in for repairs, then commit the rest of my day to cleaning out the garage and the basement. I'm really intensely not looking forward to that, because that means: spending a day in a confined space, doing something I passionately hate, kept company by my parents, who know how much I hate being there, and thus get mad at me when my attitude lapses below my ability to feign cheer.

In all fairness though, when my attitude lapses, I get intensely bitter, sarcastic, and by-and-large, evil. Not like this is news to anyone.

I think I'm going to passively absorb half of Wikipedia and call it a night.

(DB) out.

my weekend

2006-06-27T23:14:00.000-05:00

Was a lot of working. And then this happened.

Thankfully, aside from some whiplash and upsetting Adam's back, nobody was seriously injured. Every car you see in the picture was involved.

If you know Jinah, give her some love when you see her. That white one was her unnamed baby.

I got an A on my psych midterm, and on my Comps. midterm. Taking into account how I've done perfect on everything else, yours truly is an A student. Weeeeird.

I tried to blog from the porch earlier, but this fucking hurricane is eating up all my wifi and sitting outside wasn't working. Seriously, though. I'm inside and I can hear the sound of the floodwater in my backyard over the sound of the air conditioner. That can't be good. Oh well. My yard's been eroding for years, it's only getting bad now. My dad said something about it being the Army Corps of Engineers' duty to take care of land erosion.

This summer's going by faster than any I've experienced before. Probably because I've been keeping relatively busy, doing stuff, not having a lot of time to commit to sitting around, and/or driving around aimlessly, like last summer. God, before Katrina, we could say "Let's go for a ride in the country" without eliciting those "are you fucking NUTS?" looks from whoever was around.

I want to go to Deep Creek so bad. Enough said about that.

As you might tell from The Gravy (and I'm not linking to it anymore, you find it yourself, you know you want to), I've got a new bit I'm working on. Although this one's more of a song than a poem, and I'm mostly done recording it, too. If you're not either Jinah, Francis, or my mom, you'll have to wait to hear what it sounds like. I just feel good having recorded something, having a project, if you will. It's been quite some time since I did anything musical, other than farting.

Sometime before the end of this summer, I'm planning on hosting a luau / cookout / big gay yard party. Not necessarily gay, heh, but don't expect to hear country. Or to escape a little bit of disco. Or something.

These sweat pants I'm wearing are making me do just that. I'd take them off, but.. I actually don't know why I haven't taken them off. There, that's better.

I went on a date Friday night. It was alright, I guess, but I fear I'm going to do my magic "I'm unfortunately not interested" act again. I know me.

After an episode of ST:TNG, I've determined it's time to go to bed.

(DB) out.

a clear picture of the region between my ears

2006-06-16T01:34:00.000-05:00

Author's note: I mean what I say in the title. This is about as cogent and composed as I get. This entry here is me in print. For now.

Tonight, I sat in the diner with the Apple crew for four hours. It felt good to be home.

I was thinking to myself as I drove home how disastrously I've been neglecting my blog(s). I have good reasons, such as keeping up with school, writing this paper that was due today, well Thursday, whatev, staying in touch with friends, etc.

I think what made tonight at the diner so reminiscent of "the old days" was the conversation. Of late, it's been along the lines of 'get some food, joke about work, go home / go on with evening.' Otherwise, it's with people from outside of work. Still enjoyable, but the dynamic is completely different. Tonight it was me, Bec, Alicia, and Patrick. The latter two made appearances, but Bec and I sat there for about four hours or so.

Of course, the usual hilarity ensued. Talking about boys, jokes about sex, bugs flying in and out of my hair (no joke), and the like. But once the coffee and the ambience of Polly's presence sinks in, it's like we're playing Breakout with each other; bouncing introspective statements and disarming questions back and forth, disintegrating whatever walls we live behind, unearthing the ancient ruins of our inner psyches.

That's what I missed the most, I think. To draw on something I said to Bec, I miss seeing people naked. And I miss being naked.

(If you haven't distinguished from my choice of words tonight that I'm not talking about nudity, go read Entertainment Weekly.)

That's what I think makes my "work friends" so unique. If I had to pick reasons for why that is, I'd say it's because we're around each other all the time, working and otherwise, so we've had more time to observe each other in most facets of our daily lives. To be more abstract, I personally place a lot of faith in how another's presence resonates, in the metaphysical "vibe" or "aura" sense. Being immersed in a set of company, through a diverse set of situations and conditions, tends to foster a connection that I, granted from limited experience, view as rare.

So, in summation, we're very well equipped to sand-blast each others' personalities until we're sitting there, naked, looking at our clothes, and learning what it is to live, and why.

It's inspiring.

Looking at my life right now, school's treating me a lot better than I was expecting. No, actually, it's more along the lines of, I'm applying myself and enjoying it more than I was expecting. It's been a good, long-ass time since I've turned in a paper and felt like I was running across a finish line somewhere. As far as I know, aside from missing one point in a lab for Intro to Comps., my grades are perfect. I'm doing homework, acting responsibly, sleeping, not eating the entire contents of my kitchen on a regular basis...

Compared to a month ago, and a year ago, I've got my shit together. Of course, I'd love to sit back and revel in that. But I feel like I've still got a lot more work ahead of me, mostly because I actually do, and therefore I don't want to think about any laurels that I might be tempted to rest on. As I was saying earlier tonight, I don't want to stop until I've reached a point where my potential is no longer limited by decisions I've made.

A lofty goal, but attainable. Aren't the best goals the lofty ones, anyway?

The sense of satisfaction I get from actively pursuing success is helping to quiet the voices inside that tell me I'm lonely. Shit, if you've been reading at all these past couple entries, you might know how loud those voices get. However, one of the textbook coping mechanisms for anything is keeping busy. And, since I can use that to my advantage, I don't feel so much like trying to break it apart and solve the real issue.

In my soul of souls, I know the issue will resolve itself when a) the stars are properly aligned, and b) when I'm good and ready. But, in the more superficial soul above that one, I still feel like I want someone. Don't know who. And really, I don't know what I'd do with someone who met my criteria. Frankly, the chances of that person existing right now are so slim that I'd probably start looking around for the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.

That's not me being emo. That's me acknowledging how picky I am. Which I sometimes think is self-destructive. Enter the soul of souls again, though, and I really know that my standards are for my own good. Plus, combined with the circumstances of my life at present, I've said this before: there isn't much room (or desire) for compromise on my part.

I'm trying to decide where I want to transfer, whenever I'm in a position to do so. I have decided that I don't want to stay in Maryland, if I have anything to say about it. My two choices for schools are ASU in Phoenix, and McGill in Montreal. ASU's transfer requirements seem hellish, but they're probably pretty much in line with those of other American schools. McGill's requirements are even more hellish, because the standardized tests in Canada are a lot more rigorous than they are here.

I think I could probably get past that if I wanted it badly enough. Then there's that problem of transferability of credits to any post-grad stuff I'd want to do. Which, if I stick with psychology, might interfere with getting licensure years down the line. Something to consider, but whatever. Who knows if I'll be sticking with psychology? I think I'd like to now, but I'm still relatively early on in my college experience. Overall, though, I think if I had the chance to go to McGill, I would. ASU would probably be a close second.

As much as I've wanted to go to Phoenix over the past few years, I think McGill would be a more fertile ground for education. And I think Montreal in general would probably be a much more diverse playground for new ideas, etc... I think it'd provoke me to continue further on my never-ending quest to understand myself. While Phoenix is always sunny and I do have family there, something about the opportunity to go to a completely unfamiliar and appealing place is tugging on my leg, asking me to jump in.

(DB) out.

this is where songs come from

2006-06-06T01:30:00.000-05:00

I can see it happening now. All it takes is enough conversation with some intangible boy, and I start to care about him. Then, all he has to do is say one wrong thing, and I start to doubt him. He quickly corrects it, and I shove the doubts to the back of my mind and get back to caring. Combine that with distance and indifference amidst an otherwise desirable set of character traits, and there we have it: the self-perceived Challenge, the uphill battle I seem drawn to fighting.

I will be alone for quite some time, because it seems I'm entirely too self-destructive in my choice of men lately. Something about this cycle has to give, and I'm tired of it being me.

I'm tired of finding disillusionment lining the only road that, inherently, I believe to be the most important. If not for love, there would be no point to life whatsoever. I don't like thinking about that anymore.

I'm a (mostly) good person. I've got a lot to give. I care, sometimes too much, and I'm perfectly capable of loving someone.

Am I, though? I've come to think lately that if someone has deep enough feelings for me, that I'm doing something wrong; that I'm failing to realize something about either them or myself, that will pop up sooner or later and make it all crash and burn. But, turn the tables, and I'll cry myself to sleep over every unstable, idiotic bastard that I happened to identify with, at least until I get tired of it.

That cannot be healthy.

So, am I capable of love, or am I just capable of pretending I want to be? How deep-seated is all this, and how much more digging and sorting through my and others' feelings before I find some semblance of reason?

If I can't do the one thing I've felt we were all put here to do, then what is the point?

Tobacco, that's what.

asdf.

2006-06-05T02:47:00.000-05:00

I've been talking to a boy lately. At times I don't know what I think about him. I know for sure that if he lived in Baltimore, we'd have met already. But alas, he lives in DC.

Could my autumnal "find someone" instinct be kicking in early? Perhaps, given all the thought I've been wasting on the subject. Wow, but anyway, we're supposed to somehow meet for lunch next week. Not this one, but the next one.

The rest of this post has been omitted because it's NOT INTERESTING AT ALL.

2006-06-05T00:12:00.000-05:00

I've done a lot more writing this weekend than I'm really used to, and it feels good. I'm half tempted to start drawing shit again tonight. I say half tempted because I have to wake up sometime before noon.

Maybe I'll do my hair.

I have to buy blank DVDs. I didn't spend all this money on a Superdrive for nothing.

P.O.S.T.

2006-06-04T12:04:00.000-05:00

It's ridiculously pretty out. I think I was supposed to hang with Dave today or something. But I need to finish cleaning. Ugh.

At least my iPod will keep me company through that.

For no apparent reason, I feel a little bit like crap. Probably because I slept in funny positions last night.

Hah, I only seem capable of one-sentence introspection right now.

Power On Self Test. Makes sense.

I need to dig through my closet, in hopes that old textbooks are all still dwelling there. I also need breakfast.

I'd feel bad eating, though, because I ate like a fat girl last night, between Sushi Hana, dessert, and 3am munchies. Maybe I shouldn't eat.

Do I need to go to the bathroom? Only time will tell.

i can feel your feet touching mine

2006-06-04T03:16:00.000-05:00

For the sake of my dubious traces of a reputation, and in deference to my mental state last night, let us call the last line of the previous post "lost in translation."

I was useless today. I slept in, masturbated, ate some cheese, took a nap, and only after that did I really start my day. I had sushi with friends, then stood around talking with Bec in the parking lot for what turned out to be two hours. Then, I got dessert with Tabby, came home, and largely repeated my morning. And thus, here I am.

School starts Tuesday and I'm only half-sure I have the books from when I took one of the classes before. The other class, well, I'm hoping I can pull some money out of my butt before we actually get to needing that book.

However, given the hands-on nature of that class, I don't see too many homework assignments. Could be wrong, though. Probably am.

I'll say one thing, though. I'm going to have to kick this insomnia. Or, more accurately, the dysfunctional sleep schedule I'm keeping. I doubt I'm doing myself too many favors by being up and writing at this hour, but whatever. A girl's got needs.

At the Double T tonight, the table behind me heard me recounting The List. I don't think they knew I was talking about myself. If they did, I imagined them as the type that would say something ignant. What do I know, though?

2006, thus far, has been a pretty strange year, I guess, considering the number of changes that've occurred to what I would've called my baseline, normal life. Plus, my hair certainly isn't getting any shorter. Which only signifies my adherence to my assertions that I was going to grow it out. Stil, though. I talked about it forever,r and now, it's actually happening. Even though it takes shampoo, conditioner, a blow-drying, a go with a straightening iron, and another blow-drying to get it looking right. Sometime I wonder, how might my days be diffrent if I woke up and gave myself enough time to do my hair in the morning? I conclude that the only real effect would be, being that guy who spends too much time on his hair.

(DB) out.

thunderstorm, part II

2006-06-03T03:15:00.000-05:00

This pen is far more suitable.

We went to the diner, drove home, and here I am. I came out to the porch to finish a drawing I started earlier, and so I did, mostly. By the end, the perspective on the wall/ceiling panels got screwed up. The occupant of the porch depicted would have to be on an untold number of drugs for that shit to make any visual sense.

So, this is my last "free" weekend before life starts back up. I feel like I want to go out and be crazy and such, but the wiser half knows that the bored half had more fun thonight, making shirts, painting the beginnings of a tea set, drawing, writing, frolicking, whatever. There was a sense of uniqueness and individuality to our activities tonight that I enjoyed immensely.

Louise says married life is boring. I wonder, is single life all that more enthralling? I want to say no. Sure, having the ability to fantasize guilt-free about whoever you want can be amusing, and you don't have to compete for the covers at night, but eh. There's a kind of monogamy to being single. Love only yourself, until an interesting substitute comes by. (Which I guess would constitue adultery?) Oh well. Here I am, making up catchy truisms out of a sense of being alone.

Although, unfettered from the throes of love and the practicalities of a relationship, I feel like I know myself better. I'm responsible for only my feelings, and my romantic indecision / apathy doesn't have earth-shattering consequences... I like to feel like a walking contradiction sometimes.

The lonely heart, yearning for a companion, has no desire to actually find one.

I was trying to explain it to Francis a couple days ago (I still felt weird talking "inner me" with him but we worked that out) and this is how it goes: I'm unwilling to compromise the fairly loose set of standards that I have, and therefore I come off, even to myself, as abrasive and heartless.

However, the notion of someone more "my speed" frightens me.

I think I'm more fun when I'm not in love. Acerbic sarcasm is the air I breathe in social situations. Everyone knows my warm, chewy inside, and the juxtaposition between the pulp and the rind can be quite amusing. Even if cynicism is the breakfast of champions for people trying to nurse inner pain... well, if it can get a chuckle, nurse me. The laughter of others can temporarily fill the gaping hole that is my desire to hear "I love you" with an echo.

I delude myself by thinking, "Well, this will help my art." What art, though? All I do is bitch about work, school, friends, disillusionment with life. Then, I drop a few tonal and metaphorical references to every time I feel disgusting about having bad sex.

<>

(DB) out.

thunderstorm, part I

2006-06-01T23:10:00.000-05:00

Tonight, Jinah, Adam, and I decided to go to A.C. Moore rather than drive around aimlessly. I'd say it was a good choice. We got materials to make T-shirts, and a tea serving tray.

We spray painted the hell out of everything we bought, stunk up my basement, then went out and frolicked in crazy, pouring rain.

So now, I'm practicing kana, and having tea. A+J are inside watching TV.

This pen is not suitable for writing.

today is Turn On Your Broken Air Conditioner Day

2006-05-28T22:17:00.000-05:00

9:12AM- Last night, I fell the fuck asleep, haha. I sat in bed (mistake), intent on writing something, and fell asleep, pen in hand. I woke up largely in the same position hours later. It is insanely beautiful out today. Sucks, because I must spend most of my day trapped away in an office. You know, it's funny. When I first started, I was elated to have a job that didn't require moving around in any fashion. Now, I hate sitting still. I look forward to any chance I get to move around, or whatever. So, today, the Signius Project begins. Between phone calls, I'm going to try and write a poem a day, or a cogent artistic musing a day, or something. It's a way to capitalize on all this ridiculous "free" time. Hopefully, it can stand in for any sense of accomplishment or satisfcation that I might wish for whilst at work. Somehow, I'm going to get my ass to Deep Creek this summer. I don't care who with. Even if it's just by myself. (Preferably not, but whatever.) Well, I know Jinah's wanted to go forever, so she'll have to come. That and, I miss the ocean too... We're all supposed to go camping again in August, but I think that would require finding all of our stuff again; given how it was haphazardly scattered through in everyone's trunks, that would take weeks. It'd probably be easier to just rent cheap hotel rooms, as I have in the past. Come to think, we probably should have gone to Point Lookout during swimming season.. Mmm.. I have off this coming weekend! Maybe I can get down to the ocean for a night or two! I know Jin and I were talking about that, except I think everyone's going down on Sunday, which isn't that convenient, time-wise... Eh, I'll figure it out.

11:19AM- People are idiots. And I am not a telemarketer, or an answering machine. Thankfully, I'm not going to have to struggle with that much longer. And I don't care about "capturing phone numbers and mailing addresses" and trying to upsell people on things. My job is to mindlessly enter information for people and pretend to like it. And pretend to be knowledgeable on things that I'd never pay good money for in my whole life. Also, if I were a caller for any one of these companies, I'd be upset at the number of flaming hoops I'd have to jump through to get an answer about anything. If anything, at least I have a short list of doctors, lawyers, and apartment complexes that I wouldn't consider if my life depended on it. After today, only three days left. I hate how fake I sound when I pick up these calls. My phone voice is nothing like my normal voice, sometimes, anyway. Sometimes, I make no effort to sound enthused, or, no effort to mask that I hate what I'm doing. There really is something to be said for caring about what one does.

12:36PM- I do like The Format's new album. It's more energetic overall, I think. Still, it doesn't have a First Single analog, which I still feel bad for caring about, but overall I'd say there are more "skip-to" songs.

12:54PM- I wish being at this cubicle didn't drain all the vitality out of me.

1:07PM- I wish I didn't have to hear the same sob story about the same S.O.B.... that... uhhhh... they broke up because of an AIM prank, designed to trap the guy into saying the wrong thing.

1:28PM- Cigarette. Finally. Praise Jesus.

1:43PM- My mission for today is to punch thousands of tiny pinholes into a piece of paper. Then, I will hang it on my wall or something.

1:50PM- Speaking of hanging things on walls, I need to remove all the pictures from my cubicle, because I'm leaving and my room could certainly use some current photos. But, I know if I take them down now, I'll be bored out of my mind until I finally do leave. Not like I look at them all that often, but they cast an ambient glow over this grey prison.

3:03PM- I got the most amusing call ever. A maintenance man fixed a toilet. Then, he shit in it. He didn't do a great job fixing it. After the flush, his shit exploded upwards and outwards. The woman kept screaming, "There is doo-doo everywhere!" At least eight times.

4:13PM- It is STUPID BALLS HOT out. At least it was in my car, where I had lunch. Something about eating, alone, in an undecorated, windowless break room, with only the hum of bending machines to tickle my ears, well. Kinda makes me unhappy. It's funny. Morale here usually seems fine, but looking at anyone alone in that break room, it just feels like they hate being there.

4:57PM- People are monkeys. I understand it sucks that your AC doesn't work. But I am a hundred miles away. Get a life.

6:52PM- We have been STUPID busy. I don't know why so many people had a Memorial Day deadline to turn on their air conditioners. Retarded.

11:40PM- Turns out my parents turned ours on today, too.

(DB) out.

what i think when i'm away

2006-05-27T15:34:00.000-05:00

...from a keyboard.

7:11AM- It's sad when a pen and paper are more of a backup blog, rather than a blog being a digital backup diary. I wish I had done something useful with myself last night. I stayed in, watched about 20 minutes worth of Monster In Law, listened to the new Format album, and allowed it to take too much sleep from me. And now, I'm at work. I got two hours of sleep, optimistically speaking. Of course, pessimistically speaking, I got about fifteen minutes of sleep, interspersed throughout two hours of tossing and turning, sweating, and finding my pillows way too uncomfortable; even though they're absolutely great, I can't take much solace in their company when I know I have to leave them. Am I talking about goose down pillows, or concubines? Is there much of a difference? I'm going to attempt writing as a form of therapy, if not intellectual stimulation, to keep me awake. Is it bad that I'm almost wishing to get a migraine, so I can have an excuse to go get some sleep?

10:00AM- I just ate a little bit, had some caffeine, and a cigarette. And for about ten minutes, everything will be okay with the world.

10:10AM- I find my mind dwelling on two things. The first being, I can't wait to actually be done here, to finally stop having to live and work in the proverbial shadows, doing jobs that nobody wants to do. I much prefer Apple. I much prefer enjoying my job and being appreciated.

10:32AM- The second thing is, memories that are so vivid I could live in them. I only have a couple of them, two good, one bad. The bad one just happened. The good one was last summer. The other good one.. which I guess I would more accurately call bittersweet, that was in the fall. "And about all the pain, I suppose it was worth it.. You could do it again, but I just don't deserve it..."

11:11AM- I'm afraid of relationships and commitment in general. I'll admit it. I look at where my life is, where I want it to be, and how much I've got on my plate, and I am of the opinion that I've got absolutely nothing to give, at least as far as time and energy go, and that I'm far too picky to find any guy for whom I'd be willing to compromise. As far as my freedom goes, hah. I have no idea what kind of superhero would be required to distract me from my love affair with my own capricious free will.

2:58PM- That poem took entirely too long to write, but it's been pretty busy today. Aside from an hour or two of unconsciousness in the morning, it's flown

(DB) out.

leave for the city, well, count me out

2006-05-22T01:50:00.000-05:00

Bec says The Format's new album isn't as good as Interventions and Lullabies. I was supposed to get it from her tonight, but suddenly, I'm not all that anxious to. Suddenly, I actually think I might wait until it hits stores. Or whatever other avenues might bring it my way. I find it akin to the feeling I had that I didn't want to watch the sequels to The Matrix, because I didn't want to ruin the first one for myself.

I've been reading Devlin's blog lately, and just finished replying to an email he wrote me. Whether or not my readers know, he's in Japan. He's apparently having the time of his life. Having never seen him blogging before, it was strange, but something became clear; whether or not I'm familiar with his writing, the change of scenery's made him happier, or at least, given him something to be excited about. I was just telling him that it seems we're, if on separate sides of the planet, in similar boats; both of us have come upon circumstances that could completely change our futures, at least, how we see them.

I find that exhilarating. In two weeks, school will begin, Signius will be done, and I could be on a completely different road than I was a couple months ago. Or, I could do what I always do, and brilliantly fail.

The difference, this time, is that I don't view failure as an option. It's not like the last couple of times, where my thinking was more to the tune of, "well, if I fail, I'll deal with it and move on." Well, I've tried that one, and it hasn't worked. Plain and simple, I must excel, if I want anything to change. And that's a pretty silly "if," really.

Friday night, I was retarded, and decided to go to a party in honor of yet another friend of mine who's headed off to the military. (I say retarded because I only had about an eight-hour buffer zone between getting out of work and having to be back the next morning.) Granted, he's not as close as certain others, but I think it's served as a distressing reminder that as we age, people are going to leave. A scenario that recently came up in conversation was one where, in five years, some of us are going to come back from college, and find our hometowns empty. Well, not empty, but you know. Everyone we once held dear will be gone. Somewhere else, out of town, even dead, who knows? Besides wishing people the best, there's really nothing else one can do.

And, the other night, when Dave referred to dropping out of school as "pulling a Danny," I feel like a good bit of motivation fell into my lap. I look back, and I see an unglorious past. I look forward, and I see the support structure that cradled me through that past going threadbare. The more I think about making my life happen, the more I realize that I don't need that support structure. I don't need to be in the presence of people whose accomplishments amount to as little as mine; and I don't need to feel intimidated around people working towards a masters or a doctorate.

The mark I leave on this world has nothing to do with how I compare with my peers, and much more to do with what I bring to the table, and how I do it.

(For the purposes of disambiguation, the aforementioned support structure has nothing to do with my friends, and people I otherwise hold close to me. More like the abstract sense of feeling more comfortable in the company of fellow slackers and dropouts. Which is gross, I know, but true.)

Okay, so, it's May. Why is it absolutely butt freezing outside? Aside from the facts that I'm wearing a microfiber shirt, not moving, and smoking, of course.

For the record, this weekend has been monstrously sleep-deprived. So I think I might retire or something along those lines.

(DB) out.

we are family...

2006-05-19T02:26:00.000-05:00

I guess. Now's not the best of times to be asking about the topic.

Today just didn't go right at all. It was that one day off in the 9 on, 1 off cycle that my life has been lately. Fortunately, I haven't got too much longer to be dealing with that. One thing I will say about Signius that I don't particularly care for is their penchant for giving me random days off during the week, then working me straight through every single weekend. I get off tomorrow night at 10:30, then go back in at 7 on Saturday. I'm not a machine, and I'm not a manager. Machines wouldn't care, and managers get paid a good bit more because that comes with the territory.

That and, if your check arrives Thursday night, but you can't pick it up unless you're scheduled to work, and therefore have to wait until Friday (which begins the hell cycle of no free time until pretty much next week), that's straight up bullshit.

So after finding out that little gem, and having a long-winded and unpleasant conversation with my parents, I turned off my phone and went to sleep. It's not too often that I hit a point where I'm about to break, but every now and then, I get in this precious self-defeating mood where I hate myself, I hate everything, and all I want to do is not exist.

Right now, I take solace in being able to look a turkey sandwich in the eye, and tell it without a shadow of a doubt, that resistance is futile.

(note: if the time appears incorrect in this post, it's definitely because i let it sit for about two days before actually hitting publish.)

i somewhat know where to begin

2006-05-13T02:25:00.000-05:00

Sorry about the absence of a post in recent days.

Up until Thursday, I had no reason to neglect my blog. Thursday hit, and I suddenly had all the reason in the world.

Without getting too far into it, because most of my readers probably already know this.. well, okay. I'll try to do it in one sentence. In the course of a day, a spontaneous hernia (I hope) has turned me back towards college, and most likely toward the demise of my new job.

That aside, everything's been fine. My doctor's appointment is Monday, and I suppose that's when crunch time begins. I have to figure some way of taking care of whatever ailment this is before June 5th, because that's when school starts.

I'm hoping the difference between success and failure, this time, will come from the lack of any alternatives. It was either 1) go on the fast track back to school, or 2) rack up thousands of dollars in medical debt. The choice seems clear.

I mentioned in prior posts th... okay, I'll finish this after some bed.

(DB) unusually sleepily out.

entry, part II

2006-05-04T02:20:00.000-05:00

I totally meant to finish that entry last night. But I think something happened along the lines of me nearly collapsing at the keyboard.

I was just thinking to myself, what should I listen to while I blog tonight? So I looked through my playlists and realized they were all way too predictable. Thus I've made a playlist entitled "I'm Sick of Predictable Playlists." It's chock full of goodies that I don't listen to all the time, formulated via the ultra-scientific method of scrolling around my library and picking something random from each screen.

But if I had fears of the random pick sucking, I'd definitely pick something a few songs up or down, that sounded a little more promising. Yeah, I'm fickle. But yeah, I designed the experiment myself. So they're my rules to break.

It'd figure, though, I'd go through the trouble to pick out some relatively less traditional blogging music, and have nothing to blog about. Well, maybe something.

So, in writing a story, there are only a finite number of conflicts any given character can run into. I remember only really touching on four in school, even though Wikipedia says there are eight or so. Right now, my conflict is Man vs. Himself.

But to be kind, I'll summarize, as this is just a variation on a theme lately: I need college to get where I need to go in life, but I hate sitting through classes. I'm smart and can accomplish anything I want to, given sufficient incentive. But, my track record is as follows: I mess up every chance that falls in my lap, and the ones I seek out always turn out to be nowhere near as satisfying as I'd hoped. So, through significant fault of my own, plus some genuinely unfortunate outward circumstances, nothing's really worked out the way it was supposed to.

I asked my mom tonight if all people do in life is work towards some promise of an eventual payoff. And that thought scares me more than anything. If I go through with college, get a degree in something, get a job, get a house, get a dog, get married, have kids, then pay for their college? Seems like once people satisfy the demands they once strived to meet, they go looking for bigger prizes and bigger challenges.

I'm wondering, at what point does one stop and take some time to enjoy those hard-earned things? Does such a point exist? And if life truly is all about the endless pursuit of increasingly lofty goals, how the hell can that be satisfying at all?

I personally don't feel like spending every day of my life preparing to have a better one. I'd like to reach a point where I'm done with that, and I can be happy. And I hope my view of American life, and my view of my own life and future, well... I hope they're just overly cynical, and wrong. There's nothing I'd like more than to be told I'm making absolutely no sense at all, and that the drive to improve oneself (or acquire toys, for some people) does really hold some sort of beauty and exhilaration which I haven't yet figured out. Somebody, please, give me some hope!

And on the more short-term end of the spectrum, I wouldn't be opposed to trees genetically engineered to reproduce without pollen. I'd much rather avert my eyes from oaks humping each other than have such a runny nose that I'd sell my soul to be able to sneeze uncontrollably.

And now, for your moment of Zen, thanks to wired.com: uh, wow. and it's like a nightmare.

Goodnight.

(DB) out.

entry, part I

2006-05-03T01:51:00.000-05:00

And I'm planning on it in the fall. I'll need to start saving soon. Like, next paycheck. But I really need to be able to go, and sometime in October. I think that's when I wanna do it.

I don't know why I'm so compelled to go. Actually, I do. I just don't know why I'm so compelled to actually believe that I could make it happen. I'd probably need at least $500 or $600 for the trip, and that's a good bit of money. And I suck at saving. But I still want to go.

I find myself unusually short for words tonight, and I don't readily have a good reason for it. Today was spent swimming with Jinah, working, hanging out at Double T with Jinah, Adam, Shelly, and Francis, then coming home and desiring to go to Ireland.

Swimming was nice, though. Jinah and I needed to have some exclusive us-only time, so we sat around like fat kids watching courtroom reality shows, then went swimming. The water was clear, and it was cold, but not numb cold, it was eventually warm cold. We spent about an hour there, and I went to work. Of course we met up later, because our lives are basically a continuum of doing whatever and reconvening to wonder what to do.

I've got something on my mind, but I can't really talk about it without getting too down and dirty, and starting to talk about other people. Whose business is not mine to spread.

(insert break of about a day here)

we still kill the old way

2006-05-01T04:25:00.000-05:00

Every now and then, I'm compelled to listen all the way through Lostprophets' Start Something.

Every time that happens, I think about when I used to hang out with Brian, and how much enjoyment (?) and / or satisfaction we gleaned from doing absolutely nothing. We'd listen to this album, drive around, maybe ponder a fine point or two of life, leave the occasional trail of beer cans on the side of some random road, and ultimately conclude it was time to go home around 3am. Most of the times, it was all pointless. Sometimes, dangerous. Still, I feel like I enjoyed it nonetheless.

As summer starts to stir, I find myself thinking about how different this one is, or at least looks like it will be. Namely, the formerly inseparable old crew. Looking at us now, it seems like the only reasonable cause for us all to be in the same room would be a funeral. I start wondering, how meaningful was my relationship with each of those people? The thought crosses my mind that maybe those relationships weren't all that substantial, if they seemed to dissolve so easily. Did we all spend all our time together, was the group dynamic the only thing we had going for us? Even though a year or two isn't that long, so much water's passed under so many different bridges, and that makes it easy to look back and make blanket statements. Statements which, in turn, make it easy to forget details, and make it easier to deal with that loss of friendship.

Tonight, I caught myself looking back, resting on certain memories with more than a passing glance. Heh... I think I'm not alone in knowing that a part of me will always live in Mike's dad's basement. There were occasional guest stars, but the cast remained the same, usually. There wasn't a one of us who hasn't seen the other laugh, cry, throw up, get naked, fall in love, fall out of love. We all knew each others' various faces, even the ones most of us didn't show other people. Sure, there are tons of people who would describe their senior year of high school / first year of college the same way.

But, I can't think of a single person in that cast to whom I never bared my feelings and pleaded for help, or vice-versa. Whatever happened, everything always worked out okay. No matter how ugly we were on the inside, we still loved each other, and stuck at one anothers' sides. We're talking about the kids who knew me as a neurotic closet-case with a taste for Jack Daniels and demolition DDR, and the habit of saying the wrong thing one time too many. I'm talking about the kid I secretly envied for his occasionally self-destructive inability to give a damn. Or the kid whose boundless generosity often pushed her own concerns to the back burner, leading to problems. Or the kid whose passion for inane, loopy ideas was as often as subtly annoying as it was exhilarating. Or the self-professed asshole who would only publicly drop that facade only for prospective romance, even though closed doors tended to reveal that puppy dog we all knew was there. I could go on too long with these, so I'll take it on faith that you get the point.

I'm pretty sure than anyone who even made it halfway through Psych. 101 could easily name a personality disorder for every single person I just described. And the "misery loves company" adage, at first glance, couldn't fit a group of people better. But it wasn't like that. Two or three of us would go somewhere one day, then a different set would go somewhere else the next day. We didn't need to be all together in one place to have fun, and forge great memories. Get us all in one room though, and we'd all just play off one another.

If you're familiar with the physics behind a nuclear fission reaction, it all makes sense. Pared down to the absolute bare minimum, it goes like this: A fissile fuel atom breaks down and throws out a neutron or two. Which then hits another fuel atom, causing it to fission. Releasing more neutrons. Lather, rinse, repeat. Energy everywhere.

Even if we were in uninspired or otherwise foul moods, sometimes one joke was all it took to get that reaction going.

(As an aside, looking down at iTunes and seeing this makes me feel like at least something about my thoughts tonight was cosmically intended.)

But, to address the question I posed earlier, my relationship with each one of them was perfectly substantial. And the fact that we're all orbiting different planets these days is a lot harder to reconcile than it should be. One never likes losing friends, especially for idiotic reasons. Although, my perspective on things might be different, because I didn't have any blood feuds erupt between myself and anyone else as life started dragging us off to our respective peripheries.

Jinah and I were talking tonight, about how we all know we miss the old times. And I realized, even if we were all in the same place again, doing the same things, it wouldn't be the same. You can only stand on a mountaintop for so long before you eventually have to worry about where dinner's going to come from. Even if we all forgot about the personal differences that have popped up over time, I think those spontaneous nuclear reactions we loved so dearly wouldn't happen so readily anymore.

We thrived on uncertainty. Sunday off was a requisite for partying Saturday night. Even though we could all theoretically be up for work or whatever, it was always more exciting when we were wondering just what the next day would hold. Any given Saturday night could be considered a microcosm of our lives at the time. None of us had "real" jobs. Community college was barely on the horizon, and when it came, it hadn't hit that shit-or-get-off-the-pot point where you're forced to seriously consider your future. When the future could be anything, the present is unquantifiably more exciting.

So even if we were all kicking back with some drinks, and being collectively stomped by one person in Halo 2, we'd all have that worry of where dinner's going to come from lurking around the corner in our minds.

But that's not how things work in the real grown-up world. People don't stop calling their friends because they get jobs. That's only supposed to happen when they have kids.

We all watched each other start to realize just who the people occupying our shoes were. And after that, we all witnessed each other learn to walk. Aside from lousy time management, there's no fantastic reason why we can't still walk together every now and then.

So, after waxing poetic about it, I think I might do something about it.

I don't know why I felt that was appropriate, but I did.

You know, I had other stuff on my mind before I started typing all this. Thankfully, most of it's taken the backseat it's generally more suited for. Except, I'm really disliking my new work schedule. I don't think I like the idea of Sunday and Monday being the new Saturday and Sunday, respectively. Even though Monday makes a good Sunday (everything's open, and it's easier to circumvent my broad, deep hatred of real Sundays), Sunday makes for one shit-bomb blow fest of a Saturday. Real Saturdays don't exist anymore, at least not in my world.

Bedtime.

(DB) out.

third wind

2006-04-30T02:10:00.000-05:00

I've got no idea just how this auxiliary subsection of my personality has managed to take over, and thrive for the past couple of hours.

I conquered the hellishly long word day with aplomb. And with only two hours of sleep to go on. So I feel like everything turned out okay, in that respect. When I got home from Apple I was resolved to eat, and immediately sleep.

But SNL turned out to be funny, so I stayed up and watched it with my parents. My dad went to bed, I had a cigarette, then went up to the computer, intent only on blogging about my conquest of today, and then sleeping my big gay ass off.

It didn't end there. I'd left Wikipedia up at some point earlier in the day. It sucked me straight in. I've felt like a zombie, hopelessly aquiring useless information just for the hell of it, slowly finding that I didn't need to fight off sleep. The urge started to fade by itself. And while I've been catching myself about to commit more and more typographical sins, I feel more readily conscious than I did a couple hours ago.

I don't feel like there can be any healthy explanation for that.

I do know I finished at least one REM cycle during my micro-nap this morning, which might have allowed me to survive the day at Signius with relatively few mistakes. And I know the Red Bull allowed me to survive Apple. But as for now, I refuse to believe that an episode of SNL can serve as metaphysical fuel. All I know is, this third wind feels disconcerting, to say the least.

I feel like my body and mind are at odds with each other. My mind knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I should be asleep. And I think my body knows that too. But for some reason, it's not listening. It's just doing its own thing. It's not the first time that's happened, of course- but this is one of the only instances in recent recollection where it's happening for no particular reason. Given the current circumstances, my concsciousness serves absolutely no purpose.

Random aside: Why the crap is it 42 degrees outside? Isn't May, like, Monday?? I don't know. I feel like I shouldn't be able to see my breath without the aid of a cigarette. That and, for some reason, it smells like autumn out here. That's kinda depressing.

I don't know why it's depressing. My first instinct is to type, "I feel like, in order to appreciate that smell, I need a tumultuous summer of accomplishment, folly, and emotion in general to look back on." Which I guess makes sense. What I don't get is, my summers usually aren't that much different from the rest of the year, except the weather makes me happier by default. Hell, if you compare my relatively idle summer of 2005 to the winter/spring of 2006... well, you've got sloth in one hand, and ambition in the other.

Although if I look at this past winter, despite financial woes and boy trouble, I remember it as having been a whole lot more fun than a lot of ones in the past. And I think I can trace that back to the night of the Apple X-mas party, when all of us piled in the van, went down to DC, and let loose for an evening. It brings back memories of when we all lived at the diner, and the hectic holiday shopping rush had us effectively working together constantly, and playing together constantly. Of course, the circumstances of one's life tend to change, and things have largely returned towards what I'd call the baseline. I don't know. I'd go looking through iPhoto, but I'd probably get a little misty. At least inwardly.

I think I'm going to try sleep now, because I can't think of anything else I feel competent enough to communicate.

(DB) out.

they say your middle name is trouble, but i know it's caroline

2006-04-28T02:43:00.000-05:00

I think my body hates me, or something along those lines.

I woke up this morning feeling sick as a dog, and after stifling that with much medicine, avoiding soda, and trying to get to sleep early, I tossed and turned for hours until I woke up at 2. I haven't been able to get back to sleep since. Which is a pity, considering I told Signius I'd work a surprise shift tomorrow at noon.

Okay, it's only from noon to 3, which is practically only enough time for me to scratch my balls, yawn, and wonder what to do next. But still, once you get in that "day off!!" mindset, it's tough to reconcile with yourself if you give it up.

Tonight was the first night I really got to break in my cubicle, after spending the past two weeks floating around to train. (Once they decide they're fed up with Win98, I'll be totally happy in any cubicle.) But anyway, I like mine. Tonight, after waking up and realizing I wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon, I went through iPhoto and printed out some 4x6's to keep me amused during the day. Surprisingly, the whole process took a lot more thought than I ever realized.

When you walk by someone's cubicle, and you look at the photos they've got up, you subconsciously try to extrapolate some kind of story from those photos. Personally, I don't care if I'm right or not, but it's fun to look for details and start fabricating entertaining lies. If I see a picture, I see a teenage son, a girlfriend that the mother's not too entirely happy about, but they're both smiling, so she feels bad for having her doubts. I see a family at the beach, and I think, wow, they look happy, but I totally remember all my family vacations and the squabbling about where to go for dinner. If I get as far as to wonder the potential dinner spots those people in the photo squabbled about, chances are I've looked too long.

Does anybody else do this? I'd like to feel like I'm not completely insane.

So, whilst looking through my photos, I feel like I was thinking about it entirely too much. I was thinking, what stories do I want people to make up from my photos? I figured the following- no pictures of just me and someone, because a) I'm not dating them, and b) Shelly would ask why we don't have any ones of just me and her. And I'd have to tell her that she forbade me to print any of the pictures of her that I particularly care for, because she feels like she doesn't look good in them. Furthermore, I was careful to avoid pictures of any of my friends with beer bottles in their hands. (That one made things especially tough.) Then I thought, is it too transparent to have tons of pictures of friends? There's a lot more to my photo collection than that. So I picked a few of my favorite landscapes. Then I wondered, is that transparent? If I walked past my cubicle and saw those pictures, what would I think?

The pictures I chose tell the following story: this kid travels a good bit. He's got a lot of friends. They all look so happy. I wonder if they're all still happy? I wonder how long ago that was taken, do they all still talk? Would they all still appear in another picture looking just about the same? He's also got quite an eye for scenery. I bet he thinks he's some hot-shit photographer. I wonder if he even took those. Seriously, who prints on non-glossy 4x6's? I don't see any girls he's hugging, he must be one of those gays...

And I'm okay with that story. Because, ultimately, my life is interesting, for better or worse, and I'm fine with people noticing that.

Saturday is the work day from hell. 8-4 at Signius, 6-close at Apple. I've never worked that long a day before. I'm both excited and terrified, thinking about how it will turn out. Sure, I've partied that long, but that's a much more free-form activity than general purpose customer service. Will I get off work and go out, desperately needing to unwind? Or will I go home, crash, and wake up sometime Sunday afternoon? I guess only time will tell.

Speaking of time, I've got entirely too much of it. No matter how hard I try, I haven't been able to get myself to sleep. I don't even know what my body's telling me to do. One voice says "sleep!" Another voice says "Seek more cold medicine!" Then the "That would be dangerous" voice quickly puts that one to rest. If the chorus of "You're hungry!" and "You're nauseous!" and "Drink more water!" and "FIND SOME CAFFEINE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" doesn't stop, well, at least one voice will win- I'll eventually tire myself out, thinking about what I'm really thinking.

By the way, the "You have to work today, bastard, because you're responsible and said yes when they said they needed you, and you're not in bed yet, muhahaha!" voice is really bugging the hell out of me.

That paper Jaime was writing, remember that? I proofread it the other night, and sent her a couple notes she later hailed as brilliant. Then she informed me that I have way too much potential to ignore college, but not in a condescending way, rather in an encouraging one. I then spewed out a little insight that's rare for me to spew out anytime before midnight:

10:49:57 PM danny c.: here's the official story on me and college: i'm working now, just so i can get my life in order before i attempt to take college seriously again
10:50:21 PM jaime b.: yes...
10:51:44 PM danny c.: here's the unofficial version: i've already screwed it up twice. i hate being there, and i hate essex, but i don't have a choice. it's there or nowhere, with my high school GPA. the last two semesters i went, all it took was a couple nice large emergencies, which in my head i blew out of proportion and was able to rationalize as an excuse for losing all interest. so in all reality, i'm waiting because i need to be more mature and self-motivated if i'm ever going to make this work, because i couldn't take screwing up again

I went on to talk about how my home situation and ailing car seem like they're significant emergencies waiting to happen. For clarification, my home situation isn't, like, bad. It's more along the lines of, I'm getting older, and my parents are getting older. Our relationship is just fine. But we're on opposite sleep schedules, and my dad's got a worsening case of real, clinical insomnia, so when I'm here, I have to be practically silent. I can rarely ever have company, because the parents don't like the idea of surrending their house to a bunch of kids. Which is fine. Hell, it's their house, and I'm at the age where I really need to stake my claim on my own living space and get on with it. But, it's just really inconvenient to have to live like I'm a guest, rather than a resident.

Jaime said it's good that I wasn't being a bitch about it. I told her, all the years of thinking that way landed me nowhere.

In other news, I feel like life without MySpace is a lot more rewarding than life with it. I've been forced to stop using it as a crutch for my bored and uninspired mind, and thus, been forced to give my noodle a little exercise. (Please refrain from any masturbatory references, because I'd like to take the high road for once.)

(LOL, just kidding.)

But seriously, I like it. I feel slightly more alive, and slightly less like I don't exist.

Would it be unprofessional to ask if I could bring in my own keyboard and mouse, to make the working experience more pleasant? I doubt they'd let me, but would it hurt to ask?

Meh. I think pretty soon I'm going to find something to eat, and try sleeping again. And maybe some more cold medicine. The voices are starting to organize, and rally against the "stay awake and keep blogging" voice. So on that note, goodnight. Or good morning.

(DB) out.

ambitions of being a walking double negative, plus uncensored word-painting

2006-04-26T02:41:00.000-05:00

I was struck with a really interesting thought process earlier.

Today, my accomplishments could best be measured (okay, I definitely almost split another infinitive, and I definitely caught it, again.) ...anyway, measured in terms of what I did not do, rather than what I did do.

Today, I didn't watch all three episodes of ST:TNG. I only watched two. In fact, I didn't even watch the 2am one. I didn't insist on my boycott of Denny's on account of their abolition of the smoking section. I didn't need that much help handling business at Job Deux. And most importantly, I didn't back down from my assertion that I was going to empty out my MySpace profile and never look back. So maybe I posted a bulletin explaining my departure. I think that's allowed.

I didn't surrender to porn surfing after I got home from hanging out. I instead listened to some music, and then picked up my guitar and gave it a bit of exercise. And now, I am blogging. And I haven't picked the same playlist to which I've been listening nonstop these past couple of days; I picked an album I've never listened to before.

Come to think of it, today's been really unusual, and I can't think of a good reason for that. At all.

I suppose I should do a little catching up, to cover the time between my last entry. God, I don't even remember what my last entry was about. Okay.. turns out it was a screen capture from a MySpace bulletin I posted. Wow.

Well, in short: I cut my hair. I was interviewed and hired at Signius Communications, where I answer phones for a variety of different people. Shelly had no small role in getting me considered for the position, for which I'm quite grateful. I've been training these past couple weeks, and honestly, I think everything's going to be fine.

I went on the camping trip, which was absolutely fantastic. The pictures are up and they are also fantastic. It was a fitting vacation, and it was most definitely the kind I'd been sorely needing.

Speaking of the camping trip, I have to go out to my car, and dig up my sketchbook. I did some writing out on a pier, the night we ended up leaving, and while it's raw material and I made no efforts to refine it whatsoever, at the time it satisfied my need for self-expression. And so, without further ado:

I am the full moon.
I am the lone headlights, a mile away, on a bridge.
I am this glass lake, a bay on one side, and a raging river on the other.
I am the barely perceptible breeze.
I am the call of all these unfamiliar birds, and the owl punctuating them.
The shadow on this page falls in a peculiar fashion.
These occasional moments of solitude remind me just how alone I am not.
The only sounds I can hear are the ones that speak to me.
The ones that reassure me there's more to life than seeking potentially lucrative uphill battles.
Wherever the storm, all the rain will eventually return to the sea.
I am far better at painting with words, or with light, than with a brush.

And it's amazing, how an hour can turn a glass lake into a maelstrom. A bunch of us were playing cards in our screened-in room, well after quiet time because, shit. It was our last night there. We didn't care about noise, plus everyone else had RVs that likely insulated sound. Anyway, we were playing cards, and two storms blew in simultaneously; one down the Potomac, and one down the bay. There was no rain, only lots of lightning.

Jason, Francis, and myself all decided to walk out onto the causeway so we could watch the storm roll over the bay. Keep in mind, where we were, the bay was about 30 miles wide, so we still had an unobstructed view of the one storm from our relatively safe intended vantage point. On the walk over there, the wind started to pick up like we couldn't believe. After getting slightly lost in the woods, we finally got out to the causeway.

The lightning was like the grand finale at any Fourth of July fireworks show you've ever been to, except it didn't end. You could read by it. Every half-second, another massive lightning bolt shot down to the water, illuminating the massive wall of fog forming on the horizon. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced.

Only moments after we arrived, that glass lake was spitting waves about six or seven feet beyond its usual shoreline, starting to lightly flood the roadway on which we stood. And only moments after that, a van full of our compadres rolled up, and informed us the wind was destroying our campsite. We returned, and found all the pop tents nearly collapsed, and the screened-in room reduced to a heap of metal and mesh. (My complicated-ass tent was the only one that survived the 60mph winds with no problem.) After determining the tents to be uninhabitable, and getting a weather report from someone back home stating the storm was supposed to get worse, we haphazardly broke camp and left, at 2:20AM.

The peaceful, idyllic trip ended in a clusterfuck of wind, lightning, and chaos. And that was about as beautiful as the rest of the trip, in its own strange way.

I think with that, I'm going to bed. Chances are, most people reading this have already heard this story anyway, but I don't think I've written it out before. I feel like I've accomplished something. Bonsoir,

(DB) out.

good boy, bad blogger.

2006-04-25T15:44:00.000-05:00

So, after nearly a month of negligence, I somehow feel compelled to return to blogging.

I think I was prompted to return by a paper Jaime's doing, asking about MySpace, and other social networking / instant communication phenomena and how they've been popping up in society as of late.

We did a phone interview last night, where she asked me a number of questions about MySpace, how important it is to my life, what it enhances, what it detracts from, et cetera.

She asked me to make a list of things, positive and negative, that MySpace has contributed to my life. Then she asked which list was more difficult to make.

Funny enough that the positive list was more difficult.

Then I read an article on Wired about committing "MySpacecide." And for the past hour or so, I've found myself increasingly entertained with the prospect of erasing my page and stating that I only want to be contacted via AIM, email, or phone.

I feel like it could be an important step in my personal growth. No idea what direction that step would take me, but I feel like it would theoretically be important nonetheless.

Oh god, why did I just notice that I was about to split an infinitive, and correct the mistake?

Would emptying my MySpace and allowing it to rot change me, or change how I interact with people? Maybe time will tell.

In other news, I haven't been blogging because I've been busy starting the new job, doing the camping trip, and otherwise sorting my life out.

Note to self: pay credit card bill for month before you forget.

Believe it or not, I haven't been spending as much time on MySpace. Maybe because I'm growing bored with it, maybe because I'm starting to realize that of all the strangers that've come my way, only a few have been worth keeping around.

If the whole purpose of MySpace is finding new friends, and I've only found a few, then who the hell are all those other people in my "social network?"

I think I've answered my own question.

I think I just might take the plunge.

Of course, this is speculative. I actually have to sit down and do it.

And I might have to do it in the presence of friends.

this screenshot basically sums it all up

2006-03-30T04:08:00.000-05:00

i tried my best to leave this all on your machine

2006-03-27T03:37:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I thought I'd let another night slip by without a blog entry, that I'd just peruse my usual porn sites, get a little giddy about the camping trip, and go to bed.

But I just stumbled across one of the most amusing stacks of notebook paper that I've seen in a long time.

Apparently, when I was still in high school, I declared a Random Haiku Day. I wrote some, and others wrote some. Highlights include:

old poet
gets kicks hanging around ponds
...inner meaning...

I know of maybe two people in the entire world who could tell me the name of the poet I'm making fun of. (I did so because of the two weeks spent breaking down one single haiku.) One person was there throughout the whole thing. The other is thom.

jesus fucking ape shit
just stop testing the intercom
we know you're there.

cat pounces
fly makes narrow escape
blinds torn.

time glides as molasses
the clocks don't tick here
they oooozzze

That one was one of my personal favorites. Judging from the handwriting, it seems like one of my own.

i think that i like breasts
i don't know why i'm writing in french
mmm... breasts

smoke rises
devastation throughout
another cigarette dead

Come to think of it, a lot of these have a distinct "me" ring to them. This one, however, was not mine:

badgers bite your head.
people watch you fall down, hurt.
badgers worldwide win.

Bob Hunsicker, wherever you are, you're my hero.

I also found some stuff from my angsty drawing phase... most of it, now that I look at it, is pretty morbid. My favorite features a girlfriend (turned close friend, later) with whom I'd had a nasty falling-out at the time. It's really insane, thinking about how much bitterness I was trying to squeeze out in one picture.

However, with all that said and done, I am so damn excited about this camping trip. A bunch of us got together tonight to plan the specifics, and with each passing day it feels like more and more pieces are falling into place.

Speaking of falling into place, I went to a party with Francis on Friday night, and I distinctly remember falling into a bed. I woke up in a walk-in closet. My memories of the time between those two events are dizzy, hazy, and they return a 404 when I try to recall details. (GOD I am a dork.)

Needless to say, Saturday hurt. Ooh, and it looks like Francis is going to be able to come camping too. Qu'est excitant.

Thankfully, the weekend of headaches and shafted sleep schedules is over. Now, back to my regularly scheduled insomnia.

(DB) out.

feeling like i like feeling, or fun with palindromes

2006-03-23T04:45:00.000-05:00

I love Zero7.

So earlier this morning (well, yesterday) my brother came home. Actually, probably about 24 hours ago on the dot. He was plastered, put a pizza in the oven, then forgot about it and passed out. Fortunately my dad got up a half hour later, and noticed the pizza before it caught fire.

Tonight, my brother called and said he got a flat tire up in Loch Raven, and misplaced his housekeys, and told me to unlock the house. Fun, because I was at Shelly's, and then had to take Francis back to Abingdon. There really wasn't any vacancy in my schedule to go let drunky mcdrunkerson in. Fortunately he did find his keys; I walked in, to find him hunched over a bowl of stew on the couch, drooling on himself.

I thought his visit/return would be frustrating. I thought I'd be reminded of all the wicked things I usually think about him in his absense. But rather than being frustrating, his return is serving more as pure, unadulterated entertainment. If he can manage to curb that nasty habit of setting our house up to burn down, then I say he should stay for a while. It's really like Christmas. Every stupid little thing he does is like opening up a new DVD. I'm waiting with bated breath for the DVD player to be unwrapped.

But yeah, I saw Francis again, which I enjoyed, like last time. The question was posed as to whether or not we're "officially dating," and the answer was, "we're seeing where things were going."

A cookie for the person who can correctly tell who said what.

Ooh, and thus the fun with "like" and "feel" begins.

While I do have an aversion to "official" anything, I do like where things are going. I like how things haven't been rushed. I like feeling like they're not going to. Innocence and wonder are attractive and beautiful things. I feel like my sense of wonder could use some company, maybe a little rejuvenation. I feel like even though my innocence scabbed itself over with cynicism long ago, and even though I protect myself via deliberate detachment from what I perceive to be others' opinions of me, none of that really matters... I like the stirring of warmth underneath my weathered, cold, day-to-day psyche.

(i desperately wanted to use "tabula rasa" up there, but i couldn't in good conscience put it in there in a way that wouldn't flow, so just let that be known)

I like feeling new.

(DB) out.

musical experiment

2006-03-22T03:25:00.000-05:00

Right this very moment, I'm wondering if I can type a blog entry whilst listening to the Scissor Sisters. Either I'll start getting funktastic, or switch to my Tao playlist because it's much more mellow.

Do I even need mellow?

Tonight, I was an inwardly cranky bitch. I just felt bad. If I wanted to, I could count the reasons why on one hand. But in my head, none of it's really all that simple, and avalanches are the result of one snowflake too many.

I should probably clean my room, but it's nowhere on my list of real priorities. (A list that probably needs some reevaluation anyway.) Fitting that a cluttered head should keep its environs in kind. I kinda feel like I want ravioli, too, but I think we're out of it...

My next day off is next Tuesday. My first instinct was to complain about it, and I know by Tuesday I'll probably be a ball of nerves, but at least I'll feel more useful than I did over my last impromptu hiatus. Le giggity. That and I've got another hiatus coming up in three weeks anyway, followed by a rash of days I'll be off for some reason or another. Highlights include: bridal shower, camping trip, birthday, and a prom. Yes, you read correctly. Con Francis. Am I retarded for agreeing to something so relatively soon? Probably. But, what's the point in living if you don't act on random feelings every now and then, and see where you end up?

I'll have to pull together a tux and such... or do what I tried to do last time and raid the JCPenney men's clearance section. Hey, for the same amount of money, if I can summon a fashionable ensemble together and keep it, why not? I still have my pimp cane from my prom. I definitely plan on it making an appearance.

I really don't know if I can keep up with the Scissor Sisters at this time of night, and/or in this mood. And this is sad, but I've refrained from picking something else because I don't know... fuck it, I'll just revisit Incubus' "Make Yourself." It's been quite some time since I listened to that all the way through, or at least in any sort of consecutive track order.

My legs hurt, but I can't find any other sitting arrangement that's more comfortable. I feel like I want to sleep, make ravioli, hibernate.. who knows. Whilst on the phone earlier, I said that I occasionally delude myself into thinking this will be my last winter spent in Baltimore. I feel like I'm full of crap, because there's almost no way I could pull off a move to a warmer clime, but I can dream, right?

I miss my guitar. But it's out in my car, and I really don't feel like braving the cold to go get it. I'd pick it up, play for five minutes, become overtaken with a wave of uninspiration, and go back to thinking about eating or sleeping, or being in Phoenix. Perhaps it's that self-defeating train of thought that causes the uninspiration to begin with, and it's just a self-perpetuating cycle.

Thus, in order to create something, I have to feel like I can. It should be simple, right?

I love how things in life, more often than not, are perfectly capable of being their own antitheses.

Why am I even writing here? I only know of two readers. If I had ravioli, it'd be ravioli time. But I think I'm going to go make do with something else.

(DB) out.

guerilla entry

2006-03-21T04:12:00.000-05:00

so, my objective for right now is to type the most pithy entry possible in the shortest amount of time. It's kinda ridiculous that I've been off work for five days and haven't blogged once.

I finally got a new phone. The Verizon flavor of the razr that doesn't crash and has a decent camera. St. Patty's Day was extremely anticlimactic, but I hadn't seen Tabby or Val in a while, so it was all right in the end. I met a guy named Francis (I know, from Myspace, shoot me) and we had a really awesome and random first date. I went to see Motion City Soundtrack and The Format with Bec, and their wonderfulness waxed and waxed, until ultimately we ended up getting autographs from two of the guys from the Format, and went home satisfied. Today was a random porn day.

I think that's about as close I can get to a short summary of my time off.

Oh, and my brother's home, and I haven't felt compelled to kill him yet.

I'm also completely broke.

(DB) out.

i'm told i should blog more

2006-03-15T04:22:00.000-05:00

and so I will, at least while I'm thinking about it.

Let it be noted that I've tried to type this post repeatedly. It has succumbed to distractions, browser crashes, and general inattention on my part. But hell, I was doing my taxes. And let me just say, we're all just lucky that I haven't decided to shoot myself in the face. Which wouldn't be unreasonable, considering the abysmal refund I'm (hah) entitled to, in combination with my financial woes of late.

Maybe I should stop building servers out of ancient parts for my own gratification, and take up prostitution. Or pyramid-scheme marketing.

...or shoot myself in the face.

I am a tire, and the circumstances of my life are fallen, wet leaves. Thus, as per normal, I haven't got too many exciting things to write about. Aside from the amazing weekend I had - it wasn't amazing for any reason other than the weather - nothing's been going on. I definitely want the fantastic warm weather to come back and stay that way. Either that or I want to move to Phoenix.

Although knowing my ass, I'd get tired of the insane perpetual heat and want to come back. It can be funny, wondering how things would be different there, though ultimately coming to the conclusion that the way I get along with the world in general would remain largely unchanged. I'd still have too many bills, not enough money, a nearly nonexistent sense of purpose... the list goes on. But, at least styling my hair would be easier, as humidity in Phoenix is about as extant as my sense of purpose.

In some random fluke of scheduling, after tomorrow (well, today, Wednesday, wtf ever) I have five days off in a row. I didn't ask for them, nor am I entirely happy about them. Yeah, it's awesome having a lot of time off to do whatever I want, but when I don't have unlimited (or any) amounts of money to spend, five days without any structure is probably going to kill me. I'm sick of it being too cold to go and enjoy the low-cost option of spending time outside.

You'd think by now I'd learn that I can't control the weather. But, if I could, I'd definitely find something else to bother me when I was feeling restless and slightly cranky, so there's really no point. Speaking of restless and cranky, my brother's coming home Friday, for his spring break. And my five-day hiatus from work is going to partially coincide with that.

I think March 15th is going to be "Say 'Shoot Myself in the Face' Day."

The only plus side to my brother's return is going to be getting my new cell phone. I dunno... my thoughts on him are... unpleasant.

I've talked with my mom about this at great lengths, and also with friends who may or may not fully understand the scope of my feelings. When I came out, all of a sudden, he started treating me like I didn't exist. (I know, sometimes I wonder whether or not I do, but that's my call, and no one else's.) And it hasn't really stopped. He only contacts me for tech support on his godforsaken Dell. And he stole my Ethernet cable. Worse, though, about that, is that he doesn't even know what an Ethernet cable is.

According to my parents, he occasionally asks about me, how I'm doing and such. We never really talk. We never really have, come to think of it. The fact that we had a generally unsubstantial relationship to begin with somewhat bothered me, but two years ago, it was better than it ever had been before. But all of a sudden, I come out, and I become the gay brother he avoids like the plague, unless he needs something. When he was here the last time, his very presence grated on my nerves. I guess it's frustrating, not knowing how he feels and only being able to rely on observations of his behavior. It's more frustrating knowing what those observations imply.

I hate the thought that my own brother personifies a good bit of what I hate about American society in general. I hate the thought that he could probably say the same about me. I hate the fact that being who I am automatically places me beneath fresh, sun-drenched dog shit on his scale of esteem for others.

When I was younger, and at Carver, my teacher was once sharing an anecdote about a student she once had, who was under some extreme duress, who could only express himself through profanity when asked about one particular thing/person/noun. She never fully went into particulars, I assume the student still went to Carver at the time...

I hate the fact that when asked about my brother, I'm reduced to that point of intense profanity, and bitter loathing. It's obviously a defense mechanism. I know he dislikes me, so somewhere in my head, I'll automatically do one better. I won't just dislike him. I'll stop just short of completely and totally hating him.

Seriously. Even as I'm typing this, the adrenaline's rushing, and I find my lip curling.

I hate the fact that the very thought of him breaks down all the walls and filters I try to maintain between rationality and emotion, and just go for the damned jugular. I like to think I've got a good grip on what goes on inside my head most of the time, and as we all know, I don't take very well to being told I'm wrong.

I'd better get to sleep before I find myself unable.

(DB) out.

the word of the day is "ruminate." WARNING: this post contains poetry

2006-03-03T03:28:00.000-05:00

The blogger widget crashed my computer, and made it look like my last entry didn't post. But it looks like it did.

Before getting to today, and the poetry, I feel like I should backtrack a little.

Last night, I met a boy. Which isn't entirely unusual for me. What was unusual, however, is how our interactions unfolded. I went in with a perceived lack of chemistry hovering in the back of my mind, but remembered that expectations are, 99% of the time, precursors to disappointment. So I let things flow, and flow they did. Here's where the unusual begins: One minute, the TV's on, he's making a ton of phone calls, moving about a mile a minute, and I'm wondering how long it'll be before I start to take exception to it all. But, after a little while, we're sitting, listening to music, and talking. We talked for hours about everything and nothing. I was in awe that a connection was forming with such a relative stranger. All in all, it was nice. Nicer though that things didn't take that all-too-familiar turn to the purely physical.

While the compatibility of our lifestyles seems a little up in the air, I'm going to see him again. Nobody ever knows exactly what's going to happen to them, so why worry about details prematurely?

Tonight, I went to Denny's with Jinah. Just Jinah. It was unusual, as normally we're out in a whole huge crowd. After sitting and ruminating for a good bit of time, we both left feeling peaceful. It was nice, in a subtle sort of way.

Let it be noted that after my coffee binge last week, I seem to have developed a taste for it. As if smoking and constantly drinking soda weren't enough reasons to start carrying mints around.

When I got home I was in a tea and poetry mood, in keeping with the whole peaceful business. And now, for your reading pleasure, an ode to greasy-spoon diners.

low-rent, high class
or somewhere decidedly in between
that's where life is.
coffee, cigarette smoke, cooking oil
obscure differences normally
decided by thickness of wallet.

cacophony- is this the sound
of the space between your ears
or everyone talking at once-
or both?
loud answers to questions
you never knew you had
and loud questions
you might never want answered.
something will be brought to the table.
take it, leave it,
order something, put something out there-
or both.

this is where the philosophy happens, and
these are the philosophers.
dressed too nicely, or
sporting a misguided haircut
despite appearances everyone blends together.

history forgets most of the "comfortable"
grad students with all the answers,
and remembers most of the
"tortured" bums with all the questions, if sufficiently loud-mouthed.

there's no filet mignon here,
nor could most afford it if there were.
regardless of our lives,
this is where living happens.

Print that, find the nearest 24-hour diner, get there somehow, and do some ruminating of your own. (Not that anyone I know has ever had a problem finding a diner.)

(DB) out.

holy crap, this is awesome.

2006-02-27T04:13:00.000-05:00

so, this is a dramatic milestone for me- I've never been able to keep up with a blog for this long. Well, not long, because chronologically, the last one is older. But as far as posting on a basis that borders on consistency, this one has them all trumped.

And it looks like Blogger decided to celebrate by making a widget, that hopefully works. If you're reading this, the widget worked.

Last week was a whole lot of boring, paired up with a whole lot of crazy. Highlights include a broken heater, Dave's sprained (but almost broken) ankle, three pots of coffee between the two of us, and going to Orpheus only to find out that while I ingeniously removed the X's on my hands, I forgot about the hand stamp that signifies "i'm over 21!" I then woke up to find that my mild cold had redoubled its efforts in making my head feel painfully detached from the rest of my body. At least, in the wake of all of it, I have a fabulous makeup job to look back on.

Things that are exciting: my having some time to do some songwriting tomorrow, because I don't work until later in the day, and my parents will be at work, and I'll have unrestricted access to the piano. giggity.

It's also been a considerable amount of time since I started this post. I got preoccupied trying to record a cover of "They Don't Know," by Tracey Ullman. Given that I haven't got access to a choir of joyful-sounding women, nor have I access to Garageband, it's largely Iron-and-Wine-do-Such-Great-Heights-esque.

Today, I spent way too much time on Myspace. I don't think I needed to sign in more than once. I hit "Reload" enough times to keep me logged in. That's pathetic. But, I did substantially update it lately, so you should check it out. And be my friend if you're not already. Think of it this way- if you're one of the regular readers who occasionally hounds me to update, Myspace gives you one more method of doing so. On that note, I'm going to bed- today's been pathetic enough.

(DB) out.

if you're reading this, i haven't thought of a title

2006-02-21T05:04:00.000-05:00

I spent the entirety of today feeling like I don't exist. Why, you ask? I slept til 4pm and didn't shower or get dressed until a good bit after 8pm. I sometimes disgust even myself.

I did nothing all day. I went to the diner though, and just got back not too long ago, so I guess that could count for something.

I think yesterday was pretty similar as well. I spent an inordinate amount of time re-doing my Myspace page, because I discovered how to use the br tag to keep the "About Me" section from removing line breaks. Oh, and I went on a date yesterday, which was nice. We saw "Transamerica," which was pretty good and not too heavy, considering the plot, then had coffee and a bite to eat.

Many hours have passed since I started this entry. i've attempted to develop an understanding of some basic Japanese. I have failed thus far. And now I'm going to bed, because I'm tired.

(DB) out.

my tires are spinning

2006-02-16T05:36:00.000-05:00

Despite my best efforts to get my shit together sometimes, I always seem to fall short.

I think in this case I'm referring to keeping up on my blog. It seems like I always forget about it, at least when things are interesting. When things are eventful, I tend to keep my mouth shut, because I'm not done processing my reactions to events, and I'm afraid of saying something that might be misinterpreted, or interpreted perfectly and unfavorably received. But, hell with it.

This is what's been bothering me these past couple days, and a number of people know about this and a number of people might not. Those who need to know will be able to substitute in the correct proper nouns.

A close friend of mine is getting married in a couple weeks. She's packing up her stuff and moving somewhere far off. I know I shouldn't look to pop culture for wisdom, but somewhere in the Matrix trilogy, it was said that "you can never see past a choice you don't understand." And I could go on forever talking about how I disagree with her reasons for leaving so soon, but all it comes down to is, no matter how many times I run the facts through my head, I can't come up with a solid understanding of any of it. So, I choose to understand something far more simple.

I'm going to be losing contact with someone I've known since I was practically a child. I don't want her to go. And since I haven't fully come to terms with why she's leaving, I know that when she goes, it's going to be quite some time that I'll be worrying about her, wondering whether or she's okay, and moreover whether or not she's happy. It's not my place to tell her what to do, and it's really not even my place to be worrying. But such are the failures of human nature; our abilities to act as we think we should become impeded where the people we care about are concerned.

She wants me to help her pack sometime this week. And I'm afraid. The five-year-old inside says, "why should I help her pack up and leave me for reasons I disagree with?" After stifling that particular voice, I get a feeling that I can really only describe like this:

When you take your cell phone out of your pocket, and it's been on silent, and it says "One New Voice Message," and you're waiting to hear whether or not someone made it through surgery, or whether or not you got a job offer, or something equally important. You want to know, and you know you have to confront the situation, but you hesitate before you press the "Check Messages" button. If the moment of truth is going to change everything, you want to hold on to reality as you know it for just a little longer, even if it doesn't help anything in the long run.

I don't know how I'm going to be affected by watching one of my closest friends put her life into boxes, and take her leave of me. I don't know if I'm going to approach the situation with grace, or if I'm going to break down into a blubbering fool, or if neither of those will happen. We might end up spending the whole encounter laughing about little things, having lunch, and making fun of her old possessions, just like she wasn't leaving at all. Historically, neither of us have good track records avoiding elephants in the room when it comes to our feelings, and either of us finally pulled it off, I don't even know how I'd feel about that.

When all is said and done, I fear this change, but I don't want to avoid it. I just need to take that leap of faith.

In other news, there is really no other news. We had a snowstorm. Whoopee. I haven't worked much this week, and accordingly, I haven't had too much to do with myself. I need to get on the ball with waking up before my parents come home from work, because I feel like I could use a little therapeutic "me" time in front of the piano, which doesn't happen often when they're here. Too loud or something. Well, that and sometimes I'm self-conscious about music unless I know exactly how I want what I'm playing to sound. when I start to patch songs together out of nowhere, I don't like having other present during the creative process. Which may be something I should look at working on if I ever hope to be something other than a bad musician.

Right now, I'm rejoicing in the fact that I know how to type, and I don't have to look at the screen. I've got my head thrown back on my chair, I've got my headphones on, and an adequate knowledge of keyboard shortcuts. I don't even have to look up to change the song I'm listening to. Which feels good. Sometimes it's nice just to write. Which I should probably look at doing more of, if I ever hope to be anything other than a bad writer.

So, readers, I will now torture you with every single thought that runs through my head, because I haven't really got any other form of constructive outlet for them.

Either a cafe needs to open up right by my house, or I need to move somewhere with independently-owned coffee shops. I also need to get a new working laptop, so I'm not confined to my desk. I think I've handled this bad reed switch situation a lot better than I thought I would, but it's impacting my creativity. Sitting around in a room populated almost exclusively by laundry probably stifles more than it inspires.

I've been exchanging emails with someone over the past week or so, and I haven't received one today (this waking cycle, anyway) and it's thrown off my routine more than I thought it would. Granted it's just an email, and considering how not close I am to the person I've been talking to, I still wish I'd gotten one. Oh well, I suppose i leaves me something to look forward to the next couple of times I go to check my emails.

Speaking of waking cycles, why do I go to bed at 11:30 thinking that my body's going to let me get a normal night's sleep? Of course I then wake up at 2, and can't get to bed. I work at 5 today (tomorrow) and I know I have to fit in a nap somewhere between now and then.

Okay, wow, so I just looked up and realized how idiotically long this post has become. So now I'm going to take my leave of it. As practice, maybe.

(DB) out.

Notable Diner Quotes

2006-02-10T15:41:00.000-05:00

"Oh, you know what I hate? When little dogs smell of cheese." ~me

"It smelled like I'd just been sleeping, wrapped up in a zombie." ~Devlin

"Sexual etiquette 101: Always leave at least five minutes between coming and leaving the bitch in the fucking dust!" ~me

"XTig RAXX" ~everyone

"Dude, you got eyed up like a cat in a Thai food market." ~me

Discuss.

Do it. Take your mama out all night.

2006-02-09T02:29:00.000-05:00

And I did, in a manner of speaking.

She was in some old photos I found whilst recovering my oldest hard drive yet. All my old pictures and music are now back. Last night was uneventul save for that.

I'm still elated about that. Every picture from late 2000 til now! Recovered! Giggity!

The gaping hole that Firefly left in my spirit has now been filled again, if only ephemerally.

Tonight, my friend Dave's cat decided to sit down with his junk square on my cell phone. We decided to call the phone, as it was on vibrate, and watch his cat rocket across the room. But, as soon as the call went through, the cat sat there and allowed my phone to intimately massage him.

Dave has the gayest cat ever.

I wish I had more profound things to say. But alas, I'm really, really tired. And I need to go clean off my cell phone. On that note, bonsoir.

(DB) out.

and the lord said...

2006-02-07T16:22:00.000-05:00

thou shalt sleep until 4-fucking-pm.

and thy pants shalt fall nearly off as thou walketh inside from thy "morning cigarette."

and thou shalt never forget to put on a belt again.

In other news. not too much has been going on. I finished watching all of Firefly, and then finally Serenity, and there's a hole in my life where the promise of new episodes to watch used to be. Last night I watched the Discovery Channel and Ocean's Twelve, and it just wasn't the same as watching three or six episodes of Firefly at a time.

I should've known, though, that with 15 episodes, available in blocks of three each, it wouldn't have lasted very long anyway.

Other than that, I've been working, sleeping quite well, and playing the gee-tar.

I was supposed to go to the gym with Louise today, but I slept straight through her phone call, which was at... eww, 11:10? She should've known better. Hah. Although, last night, I did tell her just to "see if I'm conscious" before committing to anything. I don't know if I foresaw myself sleeping so late, or if I was subconsciously aware of that loophole and then allowed myself to sleep so late. Questions for the ages.

Tonight, I'm apparently going to see Lilu Dallas at Sonar, with everyone from the store. If I'm going anywhere, with any other human being in my presence, I need to go clean out my car, because it probably stinks.

(DB) out.

He lives!

2006-02-05T02:02:00.000-05:00

After a brief hiatus due to:

1) drama with Nameless Boy that held true to my probability predictions
2) a pretty serious crash involving trying to put ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag (iLife '06, 500MHz G3)
3) picking up my damn guitar

I've returned. NB is totally done and over with, and I've been sleeping much better because of it. My computer lives once again, but it's seriously time for a new one, which should be happening around tax refund time. And I've missed my guitar so very much.

The question of the week for me is, do I want to join a gym? Do I really need to spend money I don't have so I can go and run on a treadmill and play with fancy weight machines, both of which can be easily substituted with free, home-brew exercise solutions?

All signs point to no, but we'll see where my checking account (HAH) points, and that will guide the final decision.

In a matter of hours, I have to go down to Bethesda. And I don't trust myself to wake up in four hours, so I think it might be another Super Sunday for me- no sleep until around 11:00 or noon.

My stomach is grumbling, and I don't feel like spending money to fix that. Unfortunate, because my house is entirely devoid of food. Fortunately, a pack of cigarettes costs much less than a meal, and works as an appetite suppressant.

If I had an armband, i'd probably go running right now, because I need something to do and I feel like I've got calories to burn. But running around while holding a hard drive based iPod = really bad idea. I don't need to land myself at the Genius Bar again due to an ill-conceived idea that seemed much better before it came crashing down on my head, and all the devices that I'd readily sacrifice my spleen to protect.

Yes, he lives, but is he really living? That's for you to decide.

And now, for your regularly scheduled insomnia,

(DB) out.

Requiem for a Dream

2006-02-01T07:13:00.000-05:00

WARNING
The following post contains tons of bitterness, and probably, tons of idiocy.

Why do you get to keep me awake at night, when you've been out drinking and you've been asleep for hours?

Why is it that considering the fact that nothing I say to you is going to change you, and considering how you've acted in the past, plus considering my own thoughts, there's only a 0.06% chance of a mutually happy ending?

(Don't ask questions about how I got to that number. There's a method to the madness.)

And let's not even go into probability estimates as to whether or not you're going to call me and explain everything, as promised. The last time we'll speak most likely already happened.

And why is it, that in the face of those odds, I still retain hope? Why do you deserve any shred of optimism from me? What is it about you, and me, that makes me want to hold on so dearly?

Because despite my best attempts to dance around the word, I'm in love with you, and I desperately hope you just tell me what to go do with myself, because that'll be easier than wondering every waking moment whether or not you're a figment of my imagination.

What's there to wonder, you ask? I don't fall asleep thinking about someone who ignores me until it becomes convenient not to. I didn't make a mixtape for someone who I could envision using it as a coaster. Cell phone bills be damned. Even if you picked up the phone to tell me to fuck off and call you later, I'm sure you'd keep it under one billable minute.

If this is the person you are all the time, I'd rather hang on to the memories of the version of you who cared, file them under "We'll always have Paris," and get on with my life.

But as it stands, I don't know if I'll ever find out. Hah. Here I write this, probably... hmm... seven or eight hours before I masochistically attempt to call you and make sure we both understand what was said tonight, because even if you do, you've probably got no idea how to handle it.

And I don't care how much you say you want me in your life. If that's so goddamn true, start acting like it.

(DB) out.

Sometimes, I just have to ridicule myself.

2006-01-31T04:27:00.000-05:00

On the agenda for tomorrow: Continue to ridicule my song-writing ability, then attempt to do something useful with my guitar, considering the crap lyrics I managed to spit out tonight.

On the agenda for the week: Find a sunny day and go hang out in Mt. Vernon, because I think I could stand to do so.

On the agenda for the year: Visit family in Phoenix, AZ, then take an overnight trip to Mexico where I shall buy prescription drugs, and attempt to contract a tapeworm, nature's miracle weight-loss cure.

But now, I sleep.

(DB) out.

things that are weird

2006-01-31T01:49:00.000-05:00

I opened Safari and typed "blogger" before I typed "myspace." After months and months, maybe all this blogging is working.

Or maybe I've learned that when I don't have any new emails, I really don't have anything new on Myspace.

Today I worked, and went to Denny's. It's funny because everyone alive decided to go there. Given that it's a Monday night, it was a little weird. Although all the regulars were there, and we exchanged knowing glances about all the idiots filling in the tables between us.

Translucent Metaphor Day was not very translucent, nor very metaphorical.

You know, I'm not really feeling the blogness right now. So maybe I'll holler later.

(DB) out.

Jan. 30 is Translucent Metaphor Day

2006-01-30T05:36:00.000-05:00

karma- It would figure. The one night I start to think, "you know, I'm not gonna sit on my ass and watch TV, I'm gonna listen to The MoPod Show and tend to my blog," bam. No MoPod Show update. It would figure, as I haven't updated my own blog in a couple days.

The past few days have been eventful / not at all. I spent a lot of time watching Firefly, a sci-fi show that surprisingly enough, flew under my radar long enough that a feature film release brought it to my attention. It only ran for one season, and all 15 episodes are available OnDemand. Friday night, I didn't leave the house.

My sleep schedule's reversed itself over the course of the past few weeks. I've been working more nights than I was before, so now, the late-night hours are my afternoon. At least that's how it would seem. I don't know how I feel about that, but as long as i'm getting something close to enough sleep, I guess that's okay.

I've been on an emotional rollercoaster with Nameless Boy. I really think I must be a girl or something. I worry about things. He redeems himself with a few well-chosen words, not even knowing that's what he's doing. I stop worrying, then a few days later, it all repeats itself over again.

Everyone remember A and B days from middle/high school? It feels something like that. A Days = everything's fine in my head, B days = everything's going straight to hell, in my head.

This is probably because there's not enough going on in the world outside of my head for me to analyze or base any thought processes on.

I've been told before to stop thinking, and to just feel. Weird scenario: The presence of certain emotions doesn't fluctuate very much, but how much I'm affected by it certainly does.

Sailboats only move when there's wind filling their sails. And try though as we do, none of us can say with any certainty when wind is coming.

I'd almost declare it another Short Paragraph Day, but it's already been used up. Maybe today is "translucent metaphor day." Not transparent, because even though it doesn't take too much to see what I mean, it's not immediately apparent what exactly I'm referring to.

I think I'm going to take a nap now, because I've nothing else to do and every baby step I take towards getting my sleep schedule back to normal is a good step.

Random thought of the moment: I want to put on nice clothes and go out on a date, that isn't to Sushi Hana. That's more of a sanctuary for me now. Take me somewhere with nice food, low lights, and unobtrusive ambient music. I want to feel... you know, that ellipsis could just as well be a period.

(DB) out.

Blogger = still down

2006-01-26T04:19:00.000-05:00

Blogger still shouldn't be down. I'd planned my day around the outage, making sure I wouldn't be anywhere near a computer, lest I'd be tempted to check for updates, or post one myself.

The soundtrack for right now is Zero 7. I haven't decided how much I like the album as a whole, but a few songs stick out in my mind as memorable.

However, far more memorable is Tracey Ullman's "They Don't Know."

But, my "Decommissioned Mixtape" playlist just got dusted off. (Not like it ever had enough time to collect dust anyway- I've probably renamed it an average of once every two weeks.)

The past two days have been filled with friends busting down my front door, demanding that I hang out with them. Not that there hasn't been some degree of prior planning- I'm just a heavy sleeper, and sometimes my cell phone isn't the best alarm clock.

Highlights of today included going to Arundel Mills, playing around with a video game that involved ceiling-mounted projectors and cameras. Think of it as kickball meets advertisement meets holodeck. It was sheerly amazing.

Then, we went to the Dollar Store and bought a collection of random items. We're now in the process of incorporating all these items into a game of sorts, and we've made a bit of progress. Also, ate ramen noodles that tasted of chocolate and caramel. ??? Yeah, I know.

On that note, adding Hershey's syrup to a spoonful of ramen is not as nasty as it sounds. Well, perhaps if the syrup is augmenting a flavor already present in the ramen.

MSG headaches, as evidenced by my status message for the evening, suck ass.

Despite today being less boring than others, and filled with simple amusement, I felt a little more numb than usual. I don't know why. Seeing all my friends reminds me of the first 20 minutes of Garden State, as if popping back up from a not-so-illustrious different life, and seeing everything blossom around me the way it once did. There's not much that's changed aside from the petty details.

Who's dating who, who lives where, who works where, all variations on a theme. But, who loves who hasn't changed. Who hates who hasn't changed. Who feels what hasn't changed at all. And who does what in their spare time could've been ripped from someone's LiveJournal, be it yesterday, or five years ago.

I'd make reference to feeling like I'm looking from inside a bell jar, if that wouldn't immediately conjure up too many Sylvia Plath images. But oops, I just did.

Right now, it's 4:17am and I should probably be getting to sleep soon. Whether or not this is actually the case, I feel like I've got a lot to think about. This is one of those days where I don't mind going to bed with a lot going on in my head.

(DB) out.

Jan. 25 is Short Paragraphs Day

2006-01-25T05:40:00.000-05:00

I started writing this entry earlier, and failed. I think I opened too many browser tabs at once, and closed them all without knowing.

Tonight I hung out with Jinah, watched Eddie Izzard, ate Chinese food with Louise et al., , then drove around in the countryside waxing poetic about life. Highlights include some deer and a really confused rabbit, who decided to run in front of us before choosing a side of the road to escape to.

We also got to drive through Loch Raven, which just recently opened back up from its four-year "construction" period. Word around here is that it wasn't actually closed for construction, because it closed immediately after a certain event on a mid-September day, about five years ago.

Why is it that I'm so paranoid about the powers that be, that I deliberately avoid using certain words, out of fear they'll be flagged and I'll have a file built on me, my phone calls, and what websites I go to, in the name of national security?

Well, call me paranoid, but given the whole "spying on the public" controversy, and now the subpoena for a record of all Google searches in a certain range of time? Nothing is sacred anymore.

Tangents aside, it was an unexpected pleasure to be able to see the dam again. I think the last time I was there, I was with my granddad, before he went blind.

I also talked to Nameless Boy today. I'd call the conversation ambiguous, semi-optimistic, and certainly not over. More details later, maybe. Or maybe not.

Tomorrow, (well, today) I'm going to Annapolis with Mike and Jacque, neither of whom I've seen since New Years. It's been blast from the past month.

Now, I'm going to sleep.

(DB) out.

things that don't suck

2006-01-24T03:26:00.000-05:00

Going to Denny's with Tabby and eating junk food, and whining about boys.

Gratuitously abusing Photoshop, earning Devlin's scorn yet again.

The fact that my parents just discovered my brother's grades for last semester, and his lies and excess are soon to come to an end.

Also, the fact that karma is catching up to him. Homophobia is frowned upon by the real gods, who are probably all at least bi.

Not opening up one's computer because aside from not ever being able to take it anywhere again (ARGH) it still functions as a desktop

These are things that don't suck.

Aside from that, I've got no idea what's going on with me. The next two days promise to hold more laundry, and slightly more frustration about not being able to lug my computer everywhere in the house. My dad seems to think this is a good thing, as I'll be forced to explore life outside of the little off-white box I call home. I think he's wrong, and it'll just force me to discover a more intimate view of my room.

thom was preparing his podcast earlier (that links to his RSS feed, kiddies, so get a decent browser), and he read a poem that really hit home for me. Usually when I read his poems, some of them make sense and some of them don't. And I can't commit to religiously listening to more than one podcast at a time, so I rarely hear his poetry spoken. But the words flowed and evoked a not-so-dormant set of feelings from my cold, bitter heart.

Whether the words belong to you or not, sometimes it's euphoric to feel as one with language.

That and, from what thom said, there might be some Kelly Clarkson being howled, a capella, in the background. Three guesses as to who was unknowingly responsible for that.

I think I'm gonna get some rest. Even though I slept like a baby last night, I feel like I'm still not entirely caught up from the weekend. A demain,

(DB) out.

things that suck

2006-01-23T14:40:00.000-05:00

Today has not been my day.

Short in my display cable makes it so I can't open laptop past 80 degree angle. Can barely read screen. And there's no way I can afford a new computer, period. And even if I could afford a Mac mini, I can't envision life without a laptop.

My car is still on the fritz.

I left my lunch at home, and am now at work until 8:00, with nothing in my stomach.

Today blows.

Tonight, I'm going to back up my hard drive, procure beer and some screwdrivers, and attempt to take my baby apart. The beer is in case I don't succeed.

I'd hoped my iBook would die in a blaze of glory, or at least in a fashion I'd be able to talk about. "Yeah, I dropped it in the toilet," or "yeah, it fell off a cliff," or "yeah, eaten by grizzlies." Not "display started malfunctioning at complete random."

If I fail, I'm pulling the logic board, sealing it up in a box (in case I need it later), and giving my baby a proper Viking burial. She's not dying like this.

(DB) out.

Reflection

2006-01-23T09:49:00.000-05:00

Seems as though the vacation is over.

It feels like I took a trip back in time, to a point in my life where riding shotgun for hours with no destination was all I did. The most commonly uttered statement was always "(blank) said they'd call back in ten minutes, but I doubt it." It was all about finding comfort in groups, stepping back from where our lives are individually, and being losers together.

I feel like, if I couldn't have gone to Deep Creek, at least I got in touch with people and feelings I haven't entertained for a while.

Also, to take a phrase from Courtney, last night I finally slept the way my body wanted to sleep. I woke up at 9pm on Saturday and stayed awake until 3pm Sunday, then remained awake from 6pm to 10:30pm. And then I slept like a mofo, and it was good.

Off to find something to eat, then go to work.

(DB) out.

The Secret Life of my AIM Client

2006-01-21T13:30:00.000-05:00

12:58:46 PM Horny Guy: hi
1:08:20 PM Horny Guy: do you want to hangout today?
1:10:06 PM Me: whos this
1:10:19 PM Horny Guy: **** we talked a long time ago
1:10:54 PM Me: didnt you want to hook up and i said i dont really do that?
1:11:13 PM Horny Guy: no
1:11:20 PM Horny Guy: i wanted to hangout

...sure...

1:16:43 PM Horny Guy: so what you looking for
1:17:04 PM Me: i've got no idea
1:17:26 PM Horny Guy: u gay or bi
1:17:29 PM Me: gay
1:17:36 PM Horny Guy: r u a virgin
1:17:42 PM Me: hah
1:17:44 PM Me: no

you really are a complete stranger.

1:17:47 PM Horny Guy: what u into
1:17:54 PM Horny Guy: top or bottom
1:18:00 PM Me: depends
1:18:21 PM Horny Guy: i'm vers ;-)
1:18:28 PM Horny Guy: stats

insert sound of crickets chirping here

1:20:16 PM Me: uh. i gotta say, this seems really unengaging. like i know this is stuff one gets out of the way, when sex is considered
1:20:40 PM Me: but right now, sex is as far from my mind as it really could be
1:20:58 PM Horny Guy: ok bye

A Long-Winded Dialogue with Myself. Wisdom by Devlin.

2006-01-21T05:05:00.000-05:00

After large amounts of indecision, tonight became "Buy a Cheesy Porn Night" again. The way I figure, if we keep going at this pace, we'll all have a rather sizable adult film library by the end of the year. Sizable enough, I hope, to sell on eBay.

I think, in a blog entry about a year ago, I said something about a conspiracy on the part of McDonald's, trying to get every single human in the world to enjoy the tastes of ketchup and mustard. Somewhere, someone decided it'd be more cost-effective for everyone in the world to like those condiments. And so each burger that leaves the drive-thru window will leave smothered in red and yellow. Not that anyone asked for it.

Tomorrow, I have to do a ton of laundry. I'm going to chalk this up under "reasons going to Deep Creek was a stupid, bad idea anyway... yeah...," because apparently my dad was planning on busting into my room and throwing out all my dirty laundry. While I like the idea of not having to actually deal with the laundry myself, I don't feel like letting one bad pair of shoes taint (and therefore destroy) all my otherwise decent clothes that deserve to live.

I also think it might be a decent idea to sacrifice a goat at midnight, and spread its blood in a circle around my cable modem and router.

I don't know if this makes me extra weird, but when I've got headphones on, if the stereo channels aren't balanced well, it feels like there's a knife in my brain. It's almost as bad as the sound from a CRT TV, when it's on, but isn't displaying anything. That I can strangely hear from anywere on the same floor as the TV.

Like, it's done to simulate panning across an area for effect, that's fine. But guitars on the left and vocals on the right is aurally lethal. Unless the vocals can match the loudness of the guitar...

No matter how awesome The Low Life can be, I want to mildly slap around whoever usually sits in front of their mixing board.

While talking with Jinah and Dave over some liquor that tasted and smelled of ravioli (Creme de Cassis?), I thought about that nameless boy who'd hurt me last month, and how he apologized on New Years Day. Dave was eager to remind me that I'd once said all it would take is one halfway-decent apology and he'd be out of the doghouse. While I don't quite think that's true, I wonder if I've shut out the possibility of giving him a chance, and why that is.

Now, I'll present my thoughts in the dichotomous style they always seem to take.

Callous, Pragmatic Self: I appreciate his apology. But he still hurt me. And once a jerk, always a jerk. It doesn't matter if I liked him. I feel like he made it clear he wasn't ready to deliver on any reciprocation in that department. God, asshole. But seriously. I'll get over it. Just because he was awesome at times doesn't make all the bad times worth forgiving entirely.

Hopeless Romantic Self: But, you know, maybe the apology was an attempt at reconciliation. As unlikely as it sounds, maybe he really does regret how he conducted himself and wish to make amends. The sign that he took responsibility for it all out of the blue should say something.

Callous, Pragmatic Self: But, the fact that it took this long to dawn on him that he'd made a mistake should say something as well.

Hopeless Romantic Self: People make mistakes. I shouldn't automatically shut him out. Plus, I remember how I felt with him. When we were together, it was amazing, if ephemeral.

Callous, Pragmatic Self: Anyone who makes me feel that amazing, who deserves to be that close to me, should also be able to find time to call me within the week afterwards.

Both Selves: Before anyone calls me a slut, we didn't have sex, or do anything of that nature.

Hopeless Romantic Self: It was just... chick flick mushy pillow talk. There was footsie, for God's sake.

Callous, Pragmatic Self: Innocent footsie. But seriously, just because I feel like that series of moments was perfect doesn't mean he did. I should know. I'm certainly no stranger to acting like things are important to me. Like Devlin said, karma is biting me in the ass. Just in the reverse order that it should. So, I should cut my losses and move on.

Hopeless Romantic Self: Jinah and Dave said I'd never really know unless I gave it a try. I really don't even know all the details behind his actions, or lack thereof. I should at least ask what was going on with that.

Callous, Pragmatic Self: But, the details that I do know are enough. I remember how I felt when he ignored me. I can't imagine what I'd feel if he just said, "that apology was all bullshit, I just didn't want any guilt following me into the new year. I wasn't all that into you." I don't think I could take that, but I'd deserve it if I were fool enough to leave myself vulnerable to that kind of letdown.

Hopeless Romantic Self: I'll never know unless I try. That and, shit. Could I just be shutting him out for that exact reason? Am I just afraid of getting hurt? I mean, if I am, it's justified. But am I forcing myself to keep my distance from anyone that might be able to damage me?

Callous, Pragmatic Self: Of course I am, idiot. What's this whole line of reasoning been about, anyway? Shit. Fear aside, I'd have called him by now, just out of curiousity. If he said I was never all that important to him, I'd tell him to fuck off and go on with my day. At least I'd know.

Hopeless Romantic Self: So, in matters of romance, callousness and pragmatism are really just big, fancy words to make it easier to rationalize fear?

Callous, Pragmatic Self: I should know this already from watching "Donnie Darko." Even though Donnie dismissed it as bullshit, the idea that fear and love are the polar extremes at each end of the emotional spectrum isn't all that ludicrous.

Both Selves: Well, I hope you've enjoyed this. Now back to your regularly scheduled faux sanity.

Maybe I'll dwell on that. Love and fear, when viewed as polar extremes, could influence each other in equal and inverse fashions.

And then, to take a page out of Devlin's book, every interaction I've ever had, and every one I will have, will be at the most basic level, between myself and someone else.

Applied to my current situation in the simplest fashion: Fear can get in the way of love. And no matter how much I talk to myself about what happened, there's still someone out there who hasn't had his say.

I guess I just answered my own question. I do truly thank God or whoever for the gift of introspection, sometimes.

Disclaimer from both Selves: Just because the word "love" was used doesn't mean that I'm actually in love with Nameless Boy. If I had to pick a word, and I had to choose the single one that applied at this exact moment, I'd pick "preoccupied." That is all.

(DB) out.

i struggle for the words, and then give up

2006-01-18T05:13:00.000-05:00

Something about this vacation seems awry.

It hasn't started, nor is it going to. Finances aren't going to permit it to. Which I knew when the Buick started to blow up, though I hoped I'd forgotten about some cache of money somewhere, or that maybe some of my financial deadlines would postpone themselves.

But given the state of affairs at home lately, the idea of having four days off work seems more nightmarish than the thought of never having a day off work again for the next four months. At least at work, everything I do has a sense of purpose. When I come home, all I want is to not need a sense of purpose.

My house is ripe with people intent on shoving purpose right down my fucking throat.

A couple nights ago, a series of poorly thought out comments from my father catalyzed this hatred I have of being here, this feeling of being a fugitive in my own home. Not that I particularly want to have to call this my home, but you know. When you have no money and everything you own starts to break, the empty space in your life once known as your savings account starts to fill with nasty, unpleasant feelings. And monthly maintenance fees that at one time didn't look like a big deal.

I don't know why I do this all the time. When the going gets rough, I detach myself from everyone that I possibly can. With those few people who force themselves into the isolated spaces I make for myself, I lose my patience almost instantly.

Okay, so now a couple of hours have passed since I started typing this entry, and I feel like my mood has shifted. Probably because my mom has gone to bed, and I've had a bit of much-coveted peace and quiet. One gripe, though: It seems Comcast has caught up with my OnDemand bingeing, and froze my box's IP address for the month. It's probably for the best, because before I know it, I'll be signing the deed to my firstborn over to my parents over this month's bill.

Tomorrow, Bec and I will be fabulous out on the town, with no money. Tonight, I will listen to music on my good headphones, and try to go to sleep happy. Cheers.

(DB) out.

so, what about this weather?

2006-01-15T03:10:00.000-05:00

Come on now. 60 degrees and an anachronistic thunderstorm last night, now hazardously strong, butt-cold wind tonight with about an hour of snowfall. Why is Maryland like this?

Mysteries for the ages.

I really need to start watching who I get close to, or rather, whom I allow to develop attachments to me. Certain fleeting moments can instill false senses of security, or solidarity, or trust. While it's rarely my intention for such moments to occur, at least as abruptly as they have been, I often find myself making that mistake of suspending disbelief (or distrust) and playing the part, only to feel wretched about it later.

Maybe I'm not that much better than those I get scared off by.

Hah. Well, by the time Maryland sorts out its weather patterns, I'll be in total emotional health. Either that or we'll all be twenty feet underwater, thanks to global warming. As I love swimming, I see that as a win/win situation.

In other news, I saw Claire tonight, which was delightful, as always. There were Lean Pockets and naughty gossip. I swear, this weekend has been "Run Into People I Went to High School With" weekend. And in a rare 2006 fluke, "Cheesy Porn or Something Like It" weekend is running concurrently. It's like a leap year, you know, except with more crotchless panties.

I think I'm gonna get a head start on sleep tonight. I think I need it.

(DB) out.

this could be the very minute i'm aware i'm alive

2006-01-14T03:28:00.000-05:00

I'm on my back porch. I don't need to wear a jacket. I'm surrounded by breeze and raindrops. Today was a good day, tonight was a good night, and I feel at peace.

Tonight, I ran into Brad at Applebee's (after talking to him for an hour while dropping off some of his stuff), bought some wine, and watched a cheesy porn entitled Nasty Milk Maids.

It was on the clearance rack. And I wasn't alone while I watched it. So you can cancel that "you sick fuck" comment right now.

Right now, I feel serene. Maybe because I feel like I can run into Brad and we both don't get upset. Maybe because I reconnected with some old friends I haven't seen (in some cases) in months. Maybe because of the pinot grigio. But regardless, I like how I feel right now.

I've said it before and I'll certainly say it again: Bec is awesome, because she provides me with an ever-changing and ever more satisfying soundtrack for life. Sometimes it's the little things about friends that one appreciates most.

That and, who would've known six years ago, between myself, Shelly, and Jinah, that we'd end up in a basement, critiquing porn stars? We all knew we were raunchy, but perhaps not to that degree.

From the sound of Flowmasters outside, I can deduce that my brother's home. Maybe the DVD sitting on the counter will amuse him.

Hah, what if I walk inside and it's not sitting there anymore? Now that would be something.

Music: "Chocolate," by Snow Patrol. Check them out. I'm going to bask a little more, and then go to bed.

(DB) out.

why i'm addicted to the internet

2006-01-13T03:26:00.000-05:00

because living in the real world is more expensive.

Although on a more profound note, I think it's probably because the walls and boundaries that exist in the real world don't exist online. I could be more or less sitting in my underwear, surrounded by KFC boxes and flies, balancing my time between typing and trying to decide where that last piece of chicken ended up.

Well, you know, I could be doing that. I'm wearing my normal clothes and the Dickies jacket I'm often too lazy to take off. Not that anyone cares.

When we spend our entire days worrying about how we look, what we smell like, what sort of presence we exude, and what our body language is saying about us, it can be relaxing to be gloriously two-dimensional. It's easier to see oneself from all angles on a screen, and the comfort in that comes from seeing exactly what everyone else sees.

I don't know if I just ... crap, I just realized how much I need to go to bed ... anyway, I don't know if I just said something truly insightful, or used big words to justify a lack of aptitude for dealing with the world, outside of the store and the diner.

I need bed.

(DB) out.

i <3 star trek.

2006-01-07T03:54:00.000-05:00

All ten Star Trek movies are available OnDemand. I'm surprised I've left the house, period.

Well, not really. Sometimes it gets hardcore annoying here, and I just have to get out.

Edo Japan is gone from the food court. I'm condemned to Panda Express. So, more money, more digestive distress, for less food. I want to write a letter to mall management, for the disruption it has caused my life. But that'd burn precious calories that I need to conserve, because there's kinda no food anywhere in my life right now.

I'm cool because I can't think of things to finish sentences that begin with "I'm cool because."

But at least I try.

I really don't know where I wanted to go with this entry. thom mentioned somehing yesterday about having commented on my blog entries, and I thought, shit. I don't think I've checked it since last I wrote. I forgot how easy Safari RSS makes keeping up on peoples' blogs. I guess I also am used to most of my readers being dirty, filthy Windows users.

I heart Something Corporate, and I heart Bec for giving me the album. I do not heart, however, my desk chair, which has claimed many of the originals of the albums I've amassed on my hard drive.

I also heart overwhelming numbers of prepositional phrases.

me-
if i consciously note how many prepositional phrases i use in a sentence, and then blog that mental note, is it time for bed?

bec-
yes.
absolutely

me-
awesome.
talk to you later

bec-
'night

(DB) out.

"it's hardly what I'd be doing if you gave me a choice"

2006-01-04T04:22:00.000-05:00

This year, I will:

attempt to find an apartment
start saving some damn money
lose at least ten pounds, for the love of god.
stop being such an insomniac.

Secret: I've been trying to put together this post for the past few days. I just haven't got around to finishing it.

2005, wow... its passing feels just like 2004's, emotionally anyway, almost like the entire year never happened. I guess that's one of the safe and good things about ringing in the new year with the same people, it adds a sense of longevity to your relationship. Nostalgia blooms and ill feelings seem to disappear. I mean, for God's sake, I've been friends with Jacque for ten years. Percentage-wise, that's 50% of my life. And each yeah, it becomes a smaller percentage, but a longer time. (sorry about the redundancy there.)

Plus, who wants to waste their last and first memories of a year to end or start with a group of people that sucks, or means nothing? I'm a firm believer in keeping that annual moment mellow and comfortable, not drunk, in tight clothes, surrounded by strangers.

I guess this is because I've never gone through with my trips to TImes Square that I try to plan, year after year.

Things that have changed: A year ago, I was fresh out of Penney's. I was also fresh out of a failed semester at school. I'd also just come all the way out of the closet, only a matter of months prior. I felt like, "okay, I'm going to work full time, and I'm going to deal with it, and I'm going to be young and liberated and have tons of disposable income." And to a degree, that held true. Between bills, taxes, and tickets, I don't think I've ever had that much disposable income. I met Brad and had a long (for me) and meaningful relationship. I quit a miserable job, scrounged by for months, then landed my dream job.

Last year, I walked more paths than I think I ever have before, at least consecutively. 9-to-5, vagrant, part-time retail, college, slacker, nobody, somebody, loved, hated, desired, ignored, practically married, alone, bitterly unsatisfied, and smugly accomplished. And to tie in with something I think I mentioned in a previous post, I'm responsible for all of it. I'm the one behind the wheel.

I guess that's why it's all been hard to take lately. I could be anything I want to be. It's just a matter of how well I like where I land myself.

I've also found home is where you make it.

Tonight, I sat at the diner with Devlin and Adam, and we waxed poetic about all sorts of things. Of the hundred million topics we broached, one stuck with me. If you take all the things I demonstrate an inherent talent for, and then make a list of the things that I know inside and out, they're dramatically imbalanced. I'm half-assedly experienced in everything I can do. Music, writing, photography, cars, philosophy, politics, thinking, feeling. Some people have lives that would read like an encyclopedia entry. Revolving mostly around one topic and one theme, but very detailed and thorough. I feel like the "Quick Reference" guide in the back. I could talk intelligently about nearly anything, but often, only superficially.

I want to feel better than that. I want to feel like the sum of my parts would amount to something greater than they are. I think I could get to that by trying to ditch my ever-lasting fear of confrontation, and filling its place with a little persistence.

I just climbed in bed, because it's getting late, and I'm getting tired. And I had no concept of how comfortable I'd get. I feel like I had a good day, like I ran my brain at its full capacity for a significant enough amount of time. So I think I'm going to get some sleep. Peace out, yall.

(DB) out.

...take my hand, and lead me through the fire...

2005-12-29T22:45:00.000-05:00

After having been hounded for weeks, I'm finally updating. Bec, I hope you're happy.

Although I feel like I have semi-good reasons for not doing so. Past couple weeks I've kinda been on a small vacation from life, outside of work and the diner. I've been less than religious about answering my phone, or even keeping it charged; less religious about signing on AIM, or updating my status messages so people know I'm there. Aside from the standard cast of characters I regularly deal with, I haven't particularly cared to deal with anyone else.

Mostly because of the holiday season, and how stressful it can be. And partly, to a lesser degree, because I'm apparently being stalked. Anyone who waits the better part of an hour for someone to come off their lunch break (reports are varied as to whether said person is still in fact outside) is a fucking stalker.

I think something's wrong with me. Why do I need vacations from people? Well, i mean, duh. We all need vacations sometimes. Plus, the few people I really talk to know what's up and A) give me some space, or B) find a way to get in touch with me regardless. It is because of this that I don't mind hearing from them.

In this day and age, there are a hundred million ways to contact people. And when I cut myself off from two of them to regain a little sanity, everything's great. Until I sign back on to AIM, or turn my phone back on, and all of a sudden it's all barrages of IMs and voice mails talking about how I "never" pick up my phone. Most of the time, that's correct. I don't. Because I'm at work. Statistically, as far as the hours I'm awake go, there's almost never a time (that isn't past midnight) that I'm not at work, or asleep.

I think what bothers me the most is that individuals who cry foul at my lack of availability, for the most part, know my house phone number, know where I live and work, know all my email addresses, and have known those things for years. I feel like if talking to me is that important, then there are tons of ways to do it, rather than the two methods which offer the greatest convenience.

A collection of statements:

1) I need some fucking me time. Be it a day or a month, as it has been lately.
2) Just because I don't pick up my phone or return calls immediately doesn't mean I've forgotten you exist.
3) Aside from being anti-social, sometimes my phone just plain does not work.
4) If I'm that damn important to you, take some time to wonder why I don't want to be accessible.
5) I don't care how angry you get at me. Just going to make it worse.
6) Most importantly, the only things I have to talk about are bad. You don't want to hear them, and I don't want to say them.
7) Let me just be unhappy long enough to want to heal, because you can't fix it.

Things have not been good with me lately.

I can't pull sunny veneers out of thin air like I used to. I'm becoming increasingly less able to ignore the fact that no matter what I do, or what situations I'm in, solely I am in control of my life. And, on paper, where it's going doesn't look all that bad. But things take time, and until I can sate (or eliminate) my appetite for instant gratification, things are going to feel like they're snowballing downhill. And in that sad little miracle that is the 'mind over matter' principle, it all will.

Or, as I theorize, the weather starts to warm up and I spontaneously get happy again.

That said, on top of everything else, boys fucking suck.

(DB) out.

random collection of thoughts with no soundtrack

2005-12-12T01:53:00.000-05:00

So, today, I don't have a random song lyric to set any sort of tone.

Although, tomorrow's my first real day off in, well, probably a week or so. Which isn't really that big of a deal. It just feels like one.

Random anonymous IM quote: "i feel so bad... i just jerked off with my mom in the other room."

That's not me talking. We all know I seriously don't care who's in the other room.

I need a haircut. My dad's been telling me for months, and I think I've run out of excuses. This, however, should get him off my back: "Need money."

Today I made a "Mellow Lunch Break" playlist, to diffuse the knots forming in my brain from helping, on average, four or five customers simultaneously. Some creative rearranging might turn it into a good sleepy time playlist.

Today's random I Hate Boys Moment: Don't ignore me for weeks and then invite me to your "xxx-mas party" out of the blue. I'm so glad I have to work that night.

I think I'm gonna see Bell tomorrow night, and i'll probably end up making dinner for her, to make up for an event that occurred last week. In brief: "Bell, I'm really sorry, it's 1:00am and I know it's a school night, but I'm out front of your house and I can hear you trying to call me back, so let me in."

I love you, Bell Unit.

Things I don't need to see when glancing at the TV: Baby snake, eating baby mouse. Like, hairless, eyes-still-closed baby mouse. Makes the world seem hopeless.

Things I don't mind seeing when glancing at the TV: People in Malaysia, being highly paid to kiss cobras on the head, as a fucking competitive sport.

I probably should stop watching the Discovery Channel so religiously on my nights off.

Maybe more to come later?

How do you keep an army marching?

2005-12-10T19:04:00.000-05:00

Feed it. We are now awaiting pizza. I haven't got any real updating to do, I just feel like it was worth mentioning. More later, maybe?

(DB) out.

i pretend that you're already mine, and my heart is aching every time i look into your eyes

2005-12-07T14:03:00.000-05:00

Normally I wouldn't write about this but I feel like I need to spit it out.

Last night i dreamt that someone I'm semi-close to was going through a really bad heroin addiction, which is why said person keeps falling off the face of the earth for days at a time.

Normally this wouldn't stick out in my head, but thinking of how entirely possible it could be that it's true, it makes me sick to my stomach. I've known people / heard of people who exhibit these exact behavior patterns, all for the same reason. And I don't know why, but it makes me worry my ass off.

Although, I could just be really screwed up in the head, inventing horrible reasons for someone not to be interested in me / pick up the damn phone when promised.

Why am I waiting around for something wonderful to happen? I should know the world doesn't work like that.

(DB) out.

"Feel the crush of my beef curtain!"

2005-12-06T14:35:00.000-05:00

so, i was just listening to the The Mopod Show and they just talked about a woman who repeatedly called the cops, reporting she had a midget infestation in her house. And according to the show, the woman died of natural causes, and her son actually caught a midget in the kitchen. They'd been living under her house, coming up to the kitchen to steal food.

This is unimportant, but I feel like I should wax poetic about it. And, knowing who I work for, I should be the last person taking up in Microsoft's defense, but whatever. The Xbox 360 is a first-generation product. It's bound to have glitches. People should know this before rushing out to spend hundreds of dollars on one, not even knowing how well it's going to work.

So, I pose the following to America.

If you don't like it, return it. ENOUGH WITH THE CLASS ACTION LAWSUITS!

Seriously. We just got slammed with like eleventy billion lawsuits for iPod issues. And some of them, yes, better actions could've been taken. But come on. Nano scratches? It's going to scratch if you put it in your pocket with steel wool and glass shards, idiots. Even keys and change. Buy a case and get over it.

Now that I'm done with that... well, I don't know what to do with myself.

I wouldn't say this winter's been as depressing as winters usually are for me, I guess due to my efforts to remain comfortably busy. I work odd hours, and lots of them, and I guess that's alright with me. I feel like my interactions with friends have suffered, but it's not like they weren't suffering in the first place.

I've been kinda distracted from everything lately. Not in my typical "Ooh, something shiny!" form, but more along the lines of indecisive preoccupation. If anyone's read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, you might remember the fig tree story, and its significance. I'm somewhat in one of those situations now.

In synopsis: You can only choose one fig from the tree. They all look great. You spend so much time trying to decide which fig to pick, that they all rot and fall to the ground.

But this doesn't cover my situation completely. I spend a lot of time worrying about what to do, when I have no real need to. I know exactly how I'm going to react to any possible outcomes of the problem I'm encountering. I think I second-guess myself because the course of events is spread out over such a long period of time. So in summation, I say I don't know what to do, but i'm really just stressing because I don't know when I'm going to get the chance to do what I want.

Being confusing is fun sometimes.

(DB) out.

need more room to shout...

2005-12-01T02:59:00.000-05:00

So I don't know why I chose that title for my entry. I was suffering from iPod ADD and decided to commit to a Lostprophets album. So I just typed the first lyric I heard. I guess that means I do know why I chose this title for my entry.

I promised a real update, and by god, I'll deliver. In some fashion or another. The past couple weeks have been a lot of the same shit, much of it taking place over several different days. Boy drama, parent drama, money drama. Sadly enough, I don't dread going to work, and I enjoy being there. At this rate I figure I'm about three years away from a mid-life crisis. I'm not even twenty yet.

Tonight's been one of my nights in. I've been out the last couple nights, not being too wild or crazy or anything, but today is one of the first days in awhile where I come home from work, eat like a fat girl, then watch TV until I get bored with it. It's the lazy gay man's bubble bath, Ben & Jerry's, and good cry over a Lifetime movie. Which isn't to say that I don't enjoy bubble baths. Or Ben & Jerry's.

Ever watch documentaries, and find yourself filled with warmth whenever the characters end up doing alright? It's like, you can finally let out that bated breath, when that white-on-black screen doesn't come right before the credits. It's a ballsy filmmaker that will make a real nail-biter out of some poor person's journeys through an especially shitty part of their lives, and then have the black screen, talking about the lack of a real happy ending. Despite on-screen appearances. "Little Johnny, despite winning his fight with cancer, was run over by a truck while walking his many adorable puppies."

Fucking filmmakers.

Although the documentaries I treated myself to this evening weren't like that at all. Camera crews followed four transgender college students around for a year. I've been catching the series piece by piece, usually only on nights like this, when I've got the TV to myself and no particular reason to wake up super-early. But tonight, I got to watch the last four episodes all at once, up to the conclusion. One of the four students had a less-than-glorious ending. Which are pretty good odds for a documentary, I guess. Not so bad considering that he (FTM) was from Cyprus and had to go back after school was done. Cyprus = not the most socially liberal of climes. Then, really, seeing that one coming shouldn't have taken any special insight.

I don't know just what it is, but I feel like every time it rolls over 3:00am, I start getting sleepy. And right now, my eyes are having quite the time staying open. And they're watering. So I think I'm going to bed.

BTW, if you don't know about Fox Pass, check my Myspace. Follow the butterfly.

(DB) out.

me = toolbox

2005-11-29T15:11:00.000-05:00

So in the past week or so, I've determined that I'm not in fact switching to goats. Nor do I plan on talking about boys anymore in this blog, because it's all self-contradictory bull crap and you guys probably are getting tired of reading about it.

Not that I'm really writing anything.

I promise I'll do a real update sometime soon, I swear.

(DB) out.

baaah.

2005-11-19T16:42:00.000-05:00

men are worthless, i'm switching to goats.

in other news.. nothing. now back to goat-fucking.

So, being stood up on a date sucks, right? Being stood up because the date was by his own admission too blasted to even pick up the phone and cancel sucks even more. Then having said date refuse to return your phone calls, that sucks, right? How about a Myspace bulletin saying how much he wants someone to take him out to the club, without so much as a single attempt to call me back?

Methinks I've just been suckered into believing that three dates that go really well (I thought so) are an indication of how things go in the future, when we all know it doesn't work that way. Once you begin to significantly figure out you like someone, all of a sudden, they start to treat you like a radioactive, soiled diaper.

So, like I said, I'm thinking about switching to goats. It can't be all that baaaaad.

(I had to.)

(DB) out.

friday night fever

2005-11-12T00:50:00.000-05:00

I don't know why, but if I don't spend a Friday night out drinking til 3am, I feel like I didn't do anything with my day.

Which would be totally inaccurate. Today I hung out with Kay-star and her friend Jim, then had Starbucks with Claire, where hijinks ensued. Then I came home, discussed Adam Sandler and beer with my parents for a few minutes, then came upstairs.

I masturbated, I fell asleep immediately thereafter, then woke up to footsteps coming up the stairs, giving me just enough time to zip up and pretend I'd been idly typing this whole time.

So now I'm going to watch Garden State, and use junk food to fill the strange, uncharacteristic emotional void I seem to be experiencing. It's a brilliant movie and I could use a little mind candy.

Night,

(DB) out.

This just in: I overreact about everything

2005-11-11T02:10:00.000-05:00

For now, at least, it looks like maybe thing aren't as dire as I thought.

As a few may know, I've been kinda passively avoiding the house these past couple days, making plans that involve being there only when my parents aren't home, and spending the night out for no good reason other than not feeling at home. I always do that, I avoid being home when I've done something bad. And of course my mom called me on it, and so instead of continuing, I went home last night and dealt with it.

My mom and I talked last night, which was mainly her emoting about how screwed she feels, which is a right she reserves completely. I didn't really say anything, because I didn't really have anything to say, other than that I was sorry and even though that wasn't good enough, I wouldn't really be expecting her help in the future. Which she was quick to assure me, I wouldn't be getting. But she did say, memorably, that she "wants our relationship to move to a more adult level," and that involves me carrying my own weight in a lot of respects. I let her finish blowing off steam, then went to Dave's for the evening.

Today I didn't do too much of anything. Dave and I had lunch with Shelly and there was blog fun to follow. My dad called and asked if I'd be home for dinner, which I agreed to, thinking it was going to be all sorts of terrible, and that I'd walk away from it with instructions to pack my shit and go.

Fortunately this was not the case. He asked me if I had a plan, which I'm not even sure if I do. My mom came home from work and was really glad I was there, I guess just because despite my shortcomings, she missed me. We talked about the normal dinnertime stuff, she asked what sort of advancement potential I might have open to me at Apple, and I waxed poetic about a few courses of action I could take to end up well-paid and happy in the long run, instead of just in the short term.

So, it does indeed look like my world hasn't come completely crashing down on top of my head. I'm still considering moving in with Dave, and also, Kay and I are getting together to discuss apartment shopping. At least if I do plan to get out on my own, I don't have to pull an alternative living arrangement out of my ass, because I still have a place to call home, remarkably enough.

Many thanks to those of you I've subjected to my griping and emo'ing on the topic. And Louise, you are a whore for not meeting me for coffee tonight.

BTW, that hot date I had the other night, actually ended up at a nice restaurant. I felt bad, because he didn't know how to use chopsticks, and we all know what a sushi whore I am. Yeah, I felt so bad, because I'd scarfed down half an ocean's worth of nigiri, and he hadn't gotten through more than two pieces of his. Despite the awkwardness he swears he had a good time, which is good, because I feel in kind.

I made this bomb-ass mix CD the other night for the aforementioned certain someone, and I still feel super-accomplished about it. If any readers feel like putting up with my self-pitying bitching deserves some sort of compensation, ask me how to make the absolute best mix CD ever, for any occasion! That shall be your reward.

Yeah, so tomorrow = hanging out with Kay-star, and then meeting up with Claire to go to some show that's purportedly free. I can't argue with Claire, and free music. Knowing us, we'll lament that we can't find a bottle of wine anywhere to save our lives, and spend ridiculous amounts of time trying to find said bottle of wine anyway. Or go to the CVP and pretend to be legally-drinking college students. It'll be grand.

Thus concludes everything I feel like I should be addressing.. um, so I think I'll go to bed now.

(DB) out.

identities erased, the sun will heat the ground, under our bare feet

2005-11-08T01:34:00.000-05:00

So, it's been a few days. A good amount of stuff has happened, especially today. In short- Saturday night eventually began to suck even more and more as it went on, so I called Jacque and we got donuts and had girl talk, and made mix CDs for our trip to Philly, which was tons and tons of fun. So you should check out the iPhoto gallery, and see.

Today was the last day to drop classes at school, and I didn't go in person, thinking I'd be able to do it online. Unfortunately that wasn't possible. So I'm looking at 16 credits worth of F's this semester, unless I can kiss some serious ass at Records and Reg. tomorrow. Which, knowing the friendly staff of Essex Administration, isn't going to happen.

I'm beginning to think that moving in with Dave is going to become more and more of a reality with every passing day, because my parents are starting to smell the smoke from my glorious plane crash of a semester. I know they're not going to be happy about it. I'm not sure what the ramifications would be for me, when they finally do find out, but I'm fairly sure they're not pretty. And I'm also sure they're going to find out soon. I'm preparing myself for the worst-case scenario.

Even though losing my car and comfy suburban lifestyle is going to take its toll on me, maybe it's for the best. When I fucked up high school, it became clear I was going to have to build my life from the ground up. I just didn't know how close to the ground I would have to start. But the path, while not without its own tribulations, has not been difficult. I feel like everything I have in this world, I've been given. My car, my cell phone, every single piece of furniture, my last failed attempt at school, and my current failed attempt at school. My parents have tried for so long to make sure my life would be as easy and promising as possible, but for whatever reason, I take what they offer me and fail to do what I should with it. I'm sure they're tired of me draining their energy and resources, and the more I think about it, I feel like I'm tired of being such a drain on them.

When it comes to getting on with my own future, I need to shit or get off the pot. I don't feel like I can do that living with them. Although who knows, maybe after much fighting (and more importantly, after I've paid them back for the semester) our relationship can start to heal.

In other news, got another hot date tomorrow night, and I really feel like I should do some laundry, because I'm thinking we should probably, you know, go to a decent restaurant instead of a 24-hour diner. I also think I'll have to wake up early to take care of that among other things. So, I think I'll be going now.

(DB) out.

current mood: betrayed, alone

2005-11-06T01:54:00.000-05:00

Note to self, no more telling anyone anything. Period.

current mood: buggered

2005-11-06T01:01:00.000-05:00

In a big experiment involving laziness and stream of consciousness, I give you me, right now.

so i'm mad becasue nowhere around here cashes checks, liquor store clerks are just lazy because they want to get out RIGHT at 10:00 when the store closes and they all have their tills counted and people without 24-hour bank accounts are fucked. i have no money and tomorrow's sunday and i'll be lucky if i can even get to a bank tomorrow much less one thats open. i wasted all my remaining gas tonight driving to and from seedy establishments hoping they'd take a piece off the top of my hard earned pay, just so i could have access to it, but no, here i am broke with one cigarette left feeling like God has smacked me in the face with his dick.

+ my car is making funny noises and if i didn't know any better, i'd say my serpentine belt wasn't on its last legs. and i dont have any money to fix that.

+ i think i missed the deadline to withdraw from classes at school so no matter what i do now, my college GPA is ruined. no sweat though because we all knew that was coming.

once again i feel like God is smacking his dick on my face. i daren't say it couldn't get any worse because i know it could but i'm thinking it's just bad enough to the point that i wouldn't particularly need it to get any worse to make me any more upsetangrystressedwhatever. tonight i masturbated and took a really short nap because i was looking for something to do that wouldn't involve me smoking my last cigarette and having to go out to 7-11, because i'm just that lazy

i guess i was waiting for tonight to just fall into place, like last night did, but i guess that was too much to ask, and no matter what i try to do to fix it, i'm embuggered on a broken wine bottle just the same

goodnight, or something like it

(DB) out.

you know who you are

2005-11-04T03:48:00.000-05:00

Thanks for the Livejournal entry with the lyrics. It's nice to know that at least one of us is publicly badmouthing the other.

if i took a good look at the nobody in the mirror...

2005-11-04T03:41:00.000-05:00

So, I was reading the old, old blog again and found this one set of lyrics that's really trite and semi-juvenile, but at least the hook for the song is as scathing and pithy as something I would write these days.

I haven't posted in a number of days, which is for a number of reasons. I've been busy, again reconnecting with friends I haven't seen in a while, and making new ones. All in all, aside from school drama, everything's been pretty satisfying this week.

+ a few giddy schoolgirl moments. Thank you, Myspace.

In an update on the one entry where I talked about getting together a group of aimless artists to have spontaneous coffee houses and then go home, á la Burning Man, sans the desert and the drugs, I wrote a poem the other night, and I can totally see myself reading it at a coffee house with a smirk on my face. A few of you might have already read it, but if you haven't / you even care, ask me for it. Or just wait a few days, because who knows, I might start feeling ballsy and put it out there for all to see and then not say anything if they don't like it. Sometimes, I think out things like that too much.

I started this post not intending to write very much, but it's become apparent to me that if I set the zoom up on the screen, so that the text is enormous and the magnification follows my typing, it's a lot more fun to write. So I think I will.

But yeah, in very few words, I've got a hot date tomorrow night, about which I'm very excited. I had a hot date tonight, too, which was really impromptu, but satisfying anyway. It should take the edge off tomorrow night, because it won't technically be the first date. But yeah. Giddy like a little schoolgirl.

Oh, this also bears mentioning: I was upset to find out earlier this week that instead of getting a 20GB, fourth-generation iPod photo, I'll be getting a 30GB, fifth-generation iPod. Yeah, the one that plays video. Why would I complain about this? Getting a more current / cool version? Because the fifth-generation iPod no longer supports FireWire. And, unless I go out and buy a whole new computer, it'll take me approximately an entire weekend to transfer my whole music library to the iPod. That and, I've heard rumors that it won't even bother transferring videos over USB 1.1 (what I have) because it'd be too sinfully slow. That and I'm gonna have to invest in a wall charger, because USB 1.1 doesn't supply enough power to charge the thing, or so I'm told. But, I guess once I have the whole library transferred, I'll only be transferring a couple of songs at a time after that, so the slow connection might not be all that bothersome. That, and all my assumptions are based on hearsay.

God, I'm a dork, but it feels good to have typed something.

(DB) out.

i'm not gonna make any friends this way...

2005-10-31T09:02:00.000-05:00

In fact, that is a paraphrase from the kid sitting one table over from me, playing Magic: The Gathering. Probably describing the card he just played.

So I'm at school, waiting for class to start. Nothing has really been going on since last night, that I haven't talked about. I did forget to mention last night, however, how on Saturday I blew up my lawnmower and wrapped a toxic smoke cloud around my neighborhood. There was a Myspace bulletin with pictures. Go find it.

I'm trying to find some way to get my Halloween on tonight. So far, I don't know of anything that's going on. But I took off work tomorrow, in anticipation of getting at least a little crunk tonight. Please, people. Give me a place to put on a skirt and wear some heels. This reminds me, I somehow need to find a campy wig to complete my costume.

You know what'd be great? If the kids next to me complain about my selection of music. I guess one could raise the case that I'm being disruptive, what with not using my headphones or anything. But, I could raise the same case: "4 points mana! Festering plague bitches!" is not exactly what I'd consider a breakfast-time serenade.

I'd go make my Lean Cuisine, but I forgot to bring any cookware whatsoever. I don't think stuffing my face directly into a microwave dinner would do anything good to my skin, or my reputation. Who knows, maybe I'll just get that hungry.

"The radio is playing all the usual, and what's a wonderwall anyway?" Yay for mash-ups.

Anyway, it's approx. class time, so I'll write more later. Peace out biotches,

(DB) out.

crazy

2005-10-30T22:53:00.000-05:00

This weekend has been absolutely insane. INSANE, I TELL YOU.

Friday- school. denny's. work. TGIFriday's. illness from spicy food. the end.

Saturday- slept a lot. went to a party with louise and dave, in full drag. It wasn't a costume party. And Dave and I were the only gay guys there. I got completely shit faced, went home, and threw up a lot. while unconscious.

Today- woke up in pool of own vomit. had to tell my mom the story. she laughed and handed me nail polish remover.

some pictures are up in the photo gallery.

and right now, i lack the motivation to say anything more. haha. bed soon. goodnight

don't look at me that way!

2005-10-27T09:45:00.000-05:00

Coolest thing ever = thinking you have to work, then running late for work, e-mailing your boss to inform her of your lateness, only to have her tell you you're not scheduled for the day. Fast food, TV, and scratching myself, here I come!

crazy, crazy for feelin' so lonely...

2005-10-27T05:40:00.000-05:00

Once again I start with songs I'm not listening to. Although Patsy Cline isn't exactly in my library, so I guess I'll have to do without for the time being. I mean there's always iTunes, but let's be honest. I don't need to be spending any more money.

Tonight, we didn't get out of work until about an hour and a half after we closed. It was one of our new managers' first times closing, and as I would imagine, it unfortunately takes some time to learn. That and we had a couple expensive items lifted today. Needless to say, it was not a good day at the store.

In other news, I heard from my parents again, and they did manage to get a slight amount of time in Bermuda. My mom said it was wonderful, which is fortunate. I'd have hated to see them spend all that money and brave a hurricane and then not be able to enjoy their destination.

Mike kidnapped me and took me to the pool hall tonight, which was pretty cool. We agreed to help clean up and take out the garbage at closing time in exchange for a little discount and after-hours privileges. Not like we stayed too late, because he has to get up and help his dad with work and I have work in the morning, which I totally didn't know about until I went in today. Believe you me, I wasn't pleased. Oh well, it's not like I'd have done anything other than sit home, eat fast food, and scratch myself. At least I'll be doing something productive. Then I have a dinner date with Jaime tomorrow night. We're dorks, because we're having a dinner date at Wegman's. I'm excited, because I hear Wegman's is the new Wal-Mart when it comes to food. That and they have brick oven pizza and a sushi bar. How could we say no?

I think on that note I'm going to bed, since I have to wake up in four hours. So yeah.

BTW- I'm sorry I wasn't online tonight, to anyone who may have wanted to talk to me. ;-)

(DB) out.

smile like you mean it...

2005-10-26T01:37:00.000-05:00

I have no idea why I just titled this entry after a song I haven't listened to in probably over a month. Uh-oh, there I go. Now I'm listening to it.

Today, I went to Ikea, fake-shopping with Louise. Ikea is the kind of place that makes you wish you had tons of money. Not because of their prices, but because you want a big, super-modern apartment to furnish with all of their reasonably-priced and fashionable wares. I am an Ikea whore, and I'm proud of it.

Crap. My parents always tell me they don't want me smoking in my room because they're afraid I'll start a fire. And I just dropped my cigarette. No fire, no harm, no foul. But, I can hear my mom in my head, going "I told you so, hahaha, you'll shoot your eye out..." "The Christmas Story" anyone? Oh well.

Hot damn, Christmas is coming up, isn't it?

That reminds me of that time like three years ago, when my AIM profile / away message always contained a countdown, like "13 days until Xmas is fucking over." I hated Christmas so passionately, those years my parents decided to host it at my house. I think the best Christmas we ever had was the time my mom had surgery three days before, and we all just chilled at home and watched movies. It was really mellow, and really low-pressure, which is a break from Christmas tradition in my family. This past Christmas, I had to drink tons of egg nog to keep my Grandma's tactless anecdotes (that she doesn't mean to be funny) from forcing me into hysterics at the dinner table. I finally realized why Christmas was such a drunken holiday with my mom's side of the family.

Tomorrow, I have school and work. + I need to find some sort of public event to go to, such as a lecture or a performance, so I can write my speech paper on it. We didn't have class on Monday because we had the option of going to see Antigone at school, but I had to work, and I didn't know it was the final run of the show. I have until a week from Friday to write this paper, and something tells me I super-duper need to do a bang-up job on it.

On that note, I wish I had some sort of outlet to write more, or be more artistic in general. I miss going to Carver, sometimes, because no matter what was going on with outside life or other classes, we all had our own little projects that we were always sharing with each other, or polishing the day before coffee house, or hacking to pieces and reconstructing in our journals. If I can't get myself into a liberal arts school, then I want to create something of my own. Anybody like the idea of creating a group of otherwised bored, semi-uninspired artists, who get together to share their stuff and then go about their business? Poetry, photography, photo-essays, songs, paintings, drawings, whatever. I think it'd be a great idea to put something like that together.

Let me know if you're interested! Of course, I've probably already discussed something along these lines with all four people who read this. But tell your friends. Ask them what they think. Let me know!

I think, after that little bit of verbal diarrhea, I'm heading to bed. I have a big (but otherwise normal) day tomorrow.

(DB) out.

this is a liberating feeling

2005-10-23T17:40:00.000-05:00

So, this past weekend, I've been so busy having fun that I haven't had time to write a blog entry. I know my obsession with fun sounds obnoxious, but from someone who generally only gets a tan in front of a computer screen, please, don't think too poorly of me for it.

The Bravery was awesome. Dave and I got drunk behind City Hall, not knowing that's where we were. He touched Sam Endicott (lead singer) and would not shut up about it. For hours. Then I got to hang out with Claire, which I don't do nearly enough. The hours at the show I spent burning off all the peppermint schnapps was for naught, because we ended up at a bar, where they didn't card people. I was irresponsibly drunk once again. We went to Denny's, and stayed for a while, and by the time the night was over, it was 5am. And I had to be up at 8:30 for work.

I'd never felt so miserable, and I'd never felt so alive.

Last night I went out to dinner with Tabby, and then we went to Dave's party. It was fun, but I had to leave after an hour because I got impatient and drank a ton of liquor before the already-stoned crowd decided to spark another blunt. So I was nearly sick, and got home at midnight. How insane is that? I had fun anyway.

BTW, Dave's a big whore and I have pictures to prove it, muhahahaha.

This morning, my parents decided they were going on their cruise, hurricane or not. So they left, and now I can have peace and quiet around here for a week. It's gonna be great, if not boring. I got to see Kay-star today, which is a rarety unless it's a Jewish holiday. That made me happy.

And so, all I have to look forward to is feeding my dog, and finding something entertaining to watch on TV. I wanna relax.

Unless someone calls me and asks what I'm doing, at which point I'll happily jump at the chance to go out, get crunk, and let the good times roll once again.

I was watching TV earlier and saw this girl Alison that I went to high school with, telling Mo Rocca that she can smell hot dogs from a half-mile away. Out of context it sounds really random, but it was in a sequence of him asking people really awkward questions, and she handled it just like she would any other question. It was cool and even though we wouldn't exactly be considered friends it made me happy to see it.

Oh no... the Myspace servers are going down.. Guess I'll soon start clawing at the invisible bugs all over my skin, fiendishly accosting passers-by, in the name of getting a fix.

You think I'm kidding.

(DB) out.

fun with balls

2005-10-21T10:43:00.000-05:00

Tonight I went to the pool hall for the first time in probably a hundred million years. It was good times. And Mike got his license. When the hell did this happen?

I really wanna get this song recorded, because even though it's simple, I think I could end up making it sound really cool. That and surprisingly, the built-in mic on the iBook records things rather well. I'd like to get a real mic, though, or something.

Today was far less antisocial and more productive than any day I've had lately, so I feel good about that. + The Bravery tomorrow night. Bottom line: work on Saturday morning is going to be a huge, terrible bitch, given the fact that I might stick around Sonar after the show and get my club on. And then party on Saturday night.

I am such a fat girl. I ate a bowl of soup and two hot pockets not three hours ago, and I'm hungry again. It's probably because I'm bored. Sigh.. and I have another five loads of laundry to do. Maybe I'll do that, and not be bored, and then I won't eat. (Or maybe I'll eat every other set of pants I try to fold.)

Speaking of bored, I spent an hour today trying to sort out how to make custom Myspace styles not screw up my profile. I wasn't all that successful, but I was better off than when I tried the other night. If anybody knows CSS, please let me know. Not like anybody ever reads this thing.

So, the question of the day is, how does one lose weight when all one eats is microwaveable, processed horse shit? And it's not that one eats M.P.H.S. by choice, because one only has access to a microwave at work, and never has any time to prepare healthy food. And one is at work, all the time. Usually uses Myspace and cigarettes to suppress appetite.

after a nice, short night of sleep

I don't know what my plan is for today. I think I'm missing Soc, because I'm fairly caught up in that class and all we do is talk. I'd rather have an egg sandwich than starve through our daily and customary debates. Then there's Stat... that should be fun. I need to finish this thing I'm writing for Speech. It's supposed to be a recollection of a memory, one in which we can recall a strong emotional response, whatever that may be.

Mine's about how I finally accepted I was gay, and even after the fact, I still feel ashamed of myself sometimes when in a room full of straight people. It's almost November and I have yet to mutter the word "homosexual" to anyone in the class other than the teacher, because I guess I'm afraid to. Maybe they already know, maybe they don't, but why am I so afraid to be who I am? Why do the kids (and I do mean kids) in my class scare me? I've been through far more emotional hell from the people I'm closest to than anyone hearing the speech can throw at me. So, in that case, fuck them, I'm being who I want to be.

Maybe one day, I'll have gotten it all out to the point that I don't have to continually play the "I'm young, and gay, and misunderstood" card to get inspiration for class assignments.

BRAVERY TONIGHT!!!!!

(DB) out.

embarassing.

2005-10-20T12:19:00.000-05:00

Okay. So I woke up this morning and my bedroom door was open. I didn't leave it open last night. Chances are, somebody walked in and found me sleeping, with a tube sock in the most inappropriate of places. That makes me wanna fart.

All I did was work last night. I don't remember doing anything else, except DLing a few Postal Service songs and having them not play right. Oh, and I spent a few hours listening to Louise make fun of me. I'm pretty used to that at this point, I think it's more funny than it is like... hurtful, or mean. But yeah, definitely funny. See the adventures of Mr. Heartbreaker and Super Footwear Girl here.

BTW, when I said I woke up this morning, I lied. I woke up at 1:15. hah. My mom told me to clean the bathroom. I have to somehow fit that in with doing a hundred or so loads of laundry, because we all know I'm running out of outfit choices. Sad part is, Brad used to do my laundry, and it's been a month, and only now am I starting to run out of stuff that is A) clean, or B) doesn't stink. So, I need to remember how to work a washer and a dryer, and if I look at it the right way, I can delude myself into feeling really good about it. "It's not a chore, it's an assertion of my independence!" (yeahok)

So, when I did wake up this afternoon, there was an IM on my phone from some random guy. I got online and IMed him back and he forgot he IMed me in the first place.

I have a message for any Random Guys who want to IM me. I'm not interested in hooking up with you. That and, if you want to talk to me, please like... actually want to talk to me, instead of sending out IM blasts to every guy you can find and then seeing who writes back.

That and, Myspace Friend Whores, don't even bother.

Well, all I really had to say was about the tube sock and the friend whores. I guess I'll write more later when I have something interesting to say.

(DB) out.

hope for the future

2005-10-19T07:36:00.000-05:00

I once asked myself the question, "If you could go back in time and tell your past self one sentence that might have made your future easier, what would it be?" My answer to that was, "Self, you'll start missing college classes because you were busy fixing your hair, so stop living a lie and make things easier for everyone."

I'm sitting in front of the cafe, waiting for my next class to start. Dave called me butt crack early asking for a ride to school, but I somehow didn't hear the phone ringing and realized it a half hour later. I feel bad, but what happens while I'm asleep is not my responsibility.

I was up really last last night looking over old photos and blog entries. I didn't know I had a blog before my last one. It was staggering to read how many of my posts were composed mainly of bitching and ranting about my parents. Or talking about girls. Hah. But of course there were a few nice little gems, so now, for your reading pleasure, some notable quotes from the past.

"i danced around like a horny ostrich in my underwear. i humped people, and cars. it was sexy."

"i have a friend in need, and im gonna be up that way picking up my tree frog from pam's anyway, so if i have to throw my pentagram in the glovebox and leave my goat's blood in the cupholder, it'll only be to swoop in, pick amma up, and bounce the hell out. god knows chilling in a Xian summer camp is gonna make me thirsty. mmm... goatalicious."

"ah, the zen of consumerism."

"Nobody wants to love 'America the Beautiful.' Seemingly it's a lot more convenient to love 'America the Victim.'"

"amma 'popped a squat' on a tree, and shelby mounted a tombstone and screamed "hail satan and his epileptic monkey." i sat there eating my chicken, wondering when the dead were gonna pop up and tell us to be gone."

in v1no veritas: okay, this is gross but innocent
in v1no veritas: you know the feeling where youve got like snot caught between the back of your nose and your mouth and you really want to spit but you can't
in v1no veritas: and then you suck and suck and it finally comes out of your nose so you can spit the godforsaken thing out?
LauroraMoonStar: hahaha
in v1no veritas: i LOVE that

"i'm getting quite tired of walking into biology and being told what invertebrate dissection is on the slate for the day. i wish we could go a few class periods without being surprised with a new stinky-ass animal to tear apart."

"By the end of my speech, you'll know more about the domestication of these delicious birds..." ~matt s.

"maybe ill go down earlier, and take the movies. or, rather, the one of the two that a guy can securely watch with other male friends... freaky friday, of course! ... yeah, no."

"one last thing: know it and know it well. these are the rules for my car.

1) wear your god damn seat belt.

2) dont be changing my radio! unless you ask, thats interfering with my driving mojo and people have been shot for less.

3) specify where the fuck you want to go!

4) im not transporting your booze in my car. unless im drinking it.

5) im not gonna drive anywhere if ive drank or smoked anything, so dont ask. ***sadly, this is the only thing that's really changed, only because of convenience factors.***

6) my window buttons dont work. fact of life.

7) im driving as fast as i can, okay? if you paid as much as i do for insurance youd understand why i cant take too many risks. ***This has kinda changed... usually these days, people are telling me to slow down.***

8) i am the only person allowed to put any new burns in my seats.

9) if you dont like the music you only get one complaint before you become annoying.

10) if you are forbidden to ride shotgun, theres a reason. take some time to think about what you've done."

this part added a few hours later
So in summation, if I could travel back in time and talk to myself, I'd also add, "Self, you're not going to change all that much over the next few years. Stop sweating the small stuff, because sadly, none of that's going away."

That and, I just checked my email and got one from my weight training teacher, saying she was sorry the class wasn't working out for me this semester. She also told me to switch it to audit, or withdraw, before the failing grade ends up on my transcripts. Looks like I owe Hopkins money now. Also looks like I might not ever be able to get my tuition grant again. My parents are probably going to kill me, and this could severely impede my college career in the future.

Oh well. As much as all the blood just drained from my extremities, and as much as I wanna freak out and get all nervous and drama-queeny, I'm not going to. Life will go on somehow.

(DB) out.

internet radio sucks.

2005-10-19T02:33:00.000-05:00

Yes, indeed, I'm perusing the iTunes radio stations because my library is getting really, really beat these days. And I've found that all there is to do, with a thousand channels to pick from, is switch the station every five minutes when a crap song comes on.

So, today was: wake up, get ready for work, go to work, eat Hot Pockets and check Myspace, finish last half of work, to come home and check Myspace. And, you know, talk to people about important and profound things.

I've come to the following conclusion: regardless of how I feel about the circumstances of my life, there are a few basic facts. I am 19. I am young, in school, and working for pretty decent money. I feel like there's a whole lot more fun to be had than spending most of my free time on the computer, talking to people who go out and have fun. Not to say that there isn't a time and place for that, but most definitely not Friday or Saturday nights, which has been the mode of things lately.

Most of Baltimore is a violent, drug-infested shit hole. Which translates to, Baltimore has a huge night scene and there's definitely got to be something out there for me. I really wanna find it, because I'm tired of wishing that I could find it.

Random, unrelated resolution: I'm never taking 8am classes again. All classes are to take place after 10. At the very earliest. Although knowing myself, I'd just stay up later, sleep in longer, and miss them anyway.

It's been hours, and I still have yet to pick another radio station, that's actually playing good music. I should stick to making my own. (Or maybe give an Idle Vie CD a listen, since everyone else around here swears by them.)

These next few days are actually looking like they're going to be busy, and there might be time for social interaction sometime in there. I don't think I've had conflicting plans for a Saturday night in probably over a year. It's almost invigorating.

Somebody, tell me if you notice the following pattern: in the fall, everything starts to get more exciting, somehow. Maybe it's because it's colder and darker, and people tend to band together for warmth, figuratively and literally. I seem to remember every year being like that, in one way or another. I know "exciting" is a typical summer feeling, but my theory is, in the fall, everyone you're around and everything you do is somehow more meaningful. With or without the drugs and alcohol.

So I'm off to like.. vegetate, then fall asleep, then wake up, and repeat everything all over again. peace

(DB) out.

i wanted "anti-space.blogspot.com," but it was taken.

2005-10-18T06:13:00.000-05:00

Okay. So it's been since may that I've posted anything in any of my blogs. There have been reasons. The biggest one, which I think you are all familiar with, is MySpace.

MySpace, as defined by about 70 people on UrbanDictionary.com, is digital crack, digital heroin, an e-drug, or something along those lines. It takes over your higher brain functions, and can make you lose track of hours at a time. You scramble to somewhere with an open computer or a wi-fi signal, just to get your fix. And the worst part is, it's completely and totally legal.

So, I've decided (probably in vain) to start writing a blog again, because MySpace takes up way too much of my time. I find myself checking my profile at work, probably two to three times a shift. Just because there's nothing else to do. I plan my lunch breaks so there's enough room for food, and the ibook, so I can check my profile. It's absolutely disgusting. lol.

It's gotten to the point that I'm actually developing some sort of ability with Photoshop, just because I spend so much time editing MySpace pictures.

In the interest of saving time, if any of you read my last blog, it left off with things much, much different than they are now. In very few words:

> My job at Books-a-Million is no more. I up and quit that place about a month after the last time I blogged, which was like.. late May.

> I spent the summer doing absolutely nothing. Brad and I lived it up very cheaply, and took many small vacations. i.e., Jersey, Deep Creek, Ocean City, Philly, and Rehoboth, to name the notables.

> After a summer of scrounging and unemployment, I landed a job at the Apple Store, and I couldn't be happier.

> I'm going to CCBC/University of Rossville Blvd./Perry Hall Univ. again. I still hate going to school but it beats working full-time.

> Brad and I broke up about a month ago. Everyone seems to have several distinct sets of feelings about that, so I'll leave it alone.

> I'm finally re-learning how to play guitar. I wrote a song the other night, the first I've written since probably sometime last year. I want to be an artist, still, and usually, every time I get to the point where I'm in touch with that again, I start blogging.

> The Buick still survives, and is still in fact rockin.

Other than all that, not too much else has been going on. I've been kinda down about life lately, and I realize I have absolutely no reason to. Besides the fact that I'm a total tool for a virtual network of people that I usually talk to more in real life anyway. And the ones I don't talk to in real life have profile pics with no shirts on, and make me think I'm destined to die sad, fat, and alone. When really, I'll just die without having contracted myspaceherpes, which most of these guys are probably unwittingly spreading to each other.

Sad part is, this already had a definition on UrbanDictionary. I sent in a new one, just for poo-poos and ha-has.
So yeah. MySpace = the devil. Me = destined for obesity and solitude. Hand me the Bon-Bons and shut the door on the way out. (hah)

(DB) out.