I was looking through my archives today and a stunning realization hit me, as they are often prone to do, especially as the night wears on. The realization was that I used to write! I used to write every other day or so. That’s a crazy thought. What’s also interesting is that my writing took a serious nose dive in February. Hmm. Perhaps I found something much more worthwhile.

Tonight I am supremely happy, for reasons which cannot all be explained at this time. Working out always puts me in a good mood, and I once again identified myself as a bachelor at Wal-Mart. I went to the checkout counter with only a weight set and a bottle of shaving cream. Both of these items make me extremely happy however, with some underlying expectations. I am hoping to use the weight set on the weekends, since as of now I only work upper body two days a week and lower body two days a week, and I’ve been told that’s not very effective for building. The shaving cream is for extra sensitive skin, and due to either sensitive skin or the shaving skills of a six year old, my neck ends up bleeding far too much. I’m eager to see how both of these items improve my life. I just realized how boring this paragraph is, and I apologize.

I’m eagerly working away at a new website which I’m setting up. I’ve finally grasped the basics, and I now realize I need to learn more about CSS, JavaScript, and CGI before I can do much of anything with it. You can watch the progress, painfully slow as it will be, at www.themisfiringneuron.com.

I’m now a little nervous about the situation at work that I left today. I was given a job by my boss’s boss’s boss, and I completed it and left for the day, right on schedule. Isn’t it funny how innocuous things can seem right before they blow up in your face? The complicating details include the fact that the VP who gave me this assignment thought that when I had completed it, I would have given her the necessary details to explain something regarding the budget. As it turns out, completing this task only exposed the fact that nobody understands the software we’re working with fully, except for the one man who built it.

This software we’re working with is the software I’m hoping to help replace in the next couple of months, it’s a budget model that tries to help predict the budget for the next year. There’s some doubt as to whether or not it should be replaced, and incidents like today will hopefully clarify the situation in the right people’s minds. We need to replace this software, and quick. So in order to get the information the VP needs, I have to meet with this one person who built the old software, and I can’t meet with him until tomorrow. Anyway, hopefully I’m not in trouble for not sitting around worrying with the crew today. Maybe I’ll write about any drama caused by it tomorrow.

Well, I had big plans for this evening, and I was in a stellar mood. I was, 30 minutes ago. I had just returned from the gym, a plus. I had only smoked one cigarette today, not bad. I was alone in the house, nobody to yell at or be yelled at by, not that this happens often, but it’s still a plus. I was investigating web space providers to start up a new website and blog, to write more, and to develop some website designing skills, a big plus. Then I got curious as to where my family was, and called a few cell phones. Left some voice mails, smoked a cigarette.

I soon got a call back from my mother. That was thirty minutes ago. Now I love my mom, and she loves me, so I listen to what she says, and trust her judgment in many things. That being said, she felt tonight on the phone was a good time to bring up some issues, some concerns she has with my life. Things I’ve done in the past, things I’m now doing, and things she fears I will do, or may have done. It was rather exhausting, actually. How do you respond to this? What do you say or feel? It seems a very telling thing, the way you respond to criticism, and I’m still not sure how my response reflects on me.

As to what I’ve done, I confess, I've done many things to be ashamed of. I’ve repented. I for the most part agree with her that I've done alot wrong. I still hate to stare my past in the face, and it’s humbling, which I guess was never meant to be fun. I’ve been selfish, deceitful, and I’m not that intent on hiding it. I just wish it’d go away, that it'd never happened. I wish memory along with condemnation would be wiped away when I ask forgiveness.

As to what I’m now doing, well, I already touched on smoking, and I drink. She’s only concerned, not judgmental, yet I do indeed feel a bit convicted on the smoking. I have asthma, so I’m another brilliant individual inhaling tar, knowing full well what it's doing to me. Apparently I’ve also been receiving mail from Marlboro recently. Great for family relations. I used to look at porn too, and somehow got on some mailing list for that as well, so a few things have been sent to the house courtesy of Playboy. Great again.

As to what I’m going to do in the future, I don’t know, to be honest. It’s a really sad thought to realize that I’m going to screw up in one way or another. With a fallen body, it’s pretty much inevitable, and it will end up hurting me and others close to me. So how do I explain my desire to get closer to God, to live a righteous life, with all this evidence against me? Am I full of shit? Am I the two-faced asshole I feel like right now? Is this just a self-thrown pity party to quell my feelings of inadequacy, with no view to a change in lifestyle?

I don’t even know why I’m posting this, to tell the truth, it’s about as open as I get. I just hate pretenses; I hate not being known for who I am, even if I’m liked for who I’m not. I hate being found out even more than I hate being known for doing wrong. And now, in the pit of my gut lies a lead ball, call it shame or guilt or despair, and I feel like I’m in an ocean here. I’m on the verge of not caring enough to even keep from sinking.

But see here’s the thing that keeps nagging me in the back of my mind: I can’t keep from sinking. I guess throughout my life, I have this continuously resurfacing thought that I’m capable of making it on my own. Even at times, and this saddens me the most, I turn to God, and yet still think that somehow I’m really helping out quite a bit in my own redemption. If I’m being humbled now, then I must have been prideful, and I guess I was building that image of myself as a pretty good guy by nature back up in my head. As C.S. Lewis might say, “Damned nonsense.” Nonesense truly fit for Hell, and if lived by, will lead inevitably down into it. I don't need to be a good guy by my own nature, and I don't need to feel any more valued than I have been shown by Christ's payment offered for me.

So, after getting a bit of weight off my chest, I feel better, which is what writing has always meant to me. I write to release. I feel purged. Jesus was the one who purged me of guilt before God, but bad feelings tend to accumulate pretty quickly when I stop and look at my life. Is it wrong to feel that way? Is it wrong to need to tell others?

I guess what I’m trying to say, to myself and anyone who reads this, is that without God, no good thing could ever come of me, or from me. If positive change has happened in my life, it’s been Him doing it in me. If I do anything right, it’s to His credit, not mine. It always will be, too. Whether I am always aware of these facts, or feel them at the time, I know they are indeed facts. It’s when I start pretending that I can do even a small part of it on my own that I set myself up for these depressions. And it again is Him who lifts me from them, and He has, and I love Him for it. Thanks for reading.

Tonight I write to remember. I want to have this post saved and printed out in a huge font so that someday, when my eyesight is poor, I can read it and remember this day. I’ll do this, not because anything momentous happened, but precisely because nothing did. No doubt when I reach middle age, or perhaps retirement, like so many others, I’ll wish I was 19 again, or that I’d just turned 21, because those were the good old days. That was back when I _____, chased women, drove a fast car, did drugs in trendy clubs, fill in the blank. I guess I figure I’ll still have the same bizarre yet vivid imagination that I have right now, but much poorer memory.

I did nothing of consequence today. My day at work was spent playing with scatter diagrams, which made me feel like a little kid playing connect the dots, but with serious grown up faces and a salary. I ate at my desk, because I don’t take lunch breaks anymore, and I rode the train home, sampling the fine mix of Dallas’ finest odors and personalities. I had eaten some pasta with this garlic and something strong sauce for lunch, so I fit right in.

When I got home I decided to work out, despite my strong inclination not to, to keep from breaking such a young habit. After lifting weights and running about two miles, I smoked a cigarette and bought some pants. Now I’m sitting here being multi-cultural, eating my chips and salsa with stir-fry and rice. Hooray! On a positive note, my girlfriend has still not discovered that she’s too good for me. I’ve got my fingers crossed, hoping she never does.

That’s it! No drugs, sex, and very little rock and roll. A smoke and a shopping spree. Take heart, me you old fart, your life never was an MTV movie.

Last night was facinating. After work, I worked out despite my desire not to, which was good, and to my great pleasure I’m slowly increasing the distance I run and the weight I lift. It always seems to me that the first couple weeks getting back into exercise are the most rewarding. I always seem to have deteriorated substantially, and start out not being able to lift much of anything, and with very little endurance. Within a week or two, I can notice significant improvement, and I think it’s just that I’m getting back to where I used to be more quickly than I can build upon it. At least it’s a built in encouragement during the first few weeks when it’s not yet a habit. Then by the time it’s routine, it doesn’t matter as much that you don’t add weight or laps very often.

When I got done with that I headed to Guitar Center and picked up some potentiometers, which are variable resistors basically. They’re essentially a volume control knob, though they can be used to control other things, like tone. Anyway, I got home and rummaged through my car to find all the electronics equipment I had used in my course this summer. I found my Leatherman, which made me very happy by the way. So I plugged my guitar in before I started, just to see if it was working, or at least making noise. When my mother took it to the store that morning, they said it made noise, the tone knobs just needed replacing.

Anyway, it made not a sound, so I loosened the strings up and took the whole thing apart. I made a mess de-soldering the volume potentiometer, thinking that would surely be part of the problem, thinking that perhaps the connection was bad, but had been working temporarily while at the store. I carefully trimmed the ends of the wires and peeled back the insulation to make sure the connection would have clean wire touching, I used flux, and I was meticulous. I put it back together again, tightened up the strings, and plugged it in. Nothing. So I throw it back in its case, grab the amp, cord, and tuner, and threw it all in my car. The Guitar Center would be open for another 17 minutes, and it takes about 8 minutes to get there. So I tear into the store, check my stuff in, and tell them my problem. I wanted to test my guitar once more to see if maybe my amp was bad, or who knows, I just wanted them to look at it and come up with a magic answer. I was tired of looking at an expensive decoration, I wanted my guitar’s soul back.

So I ran up to the cheapest amp I could find, afraid that my soldering job, as careful as I was, might somehow blow the amp. I’m a Computer Science Engineering major, I know about electricity. I’ve taken as many classes on circuits and electronics as most Electrical Engineers have in their junior year. The guitar is a passive device, essentially, and there’s NOTHING I could have done to hurt their amps. I could have heated up myself a warm bowl of solder and poured it all over the internal parts of my guitar with a silly grin on my face, plugged it into their most sensitive amp, and it would have made no sound, and probably have no effect on the amp.. So I found the cheapest looking amp afraid that my soldering job might somehow blow the amp. I swear I’m retarded.

I plugged it in, and no sound came out, so I went over to the chick at the parts counter with a despondent countenance, and asked if they did maintenance. She said no, but that a previous employee now did repairs, and she would give me his business card. She asked what needed fixing, and I told her I had no idea, gave her the story of what I had done and the results. I asked what she thought could possibly be wrong, and she asked if I had tried any other cords. I didn’t have any other cords, so she said we might as well test it once more before I went through the effort of getting a repairman. With a new cord, it sounded fine. I had just bought that cord. It had never occurred to me that a newly purchased piece of wire might not conduct electricity. I had wasted an evening, yet I was overjoyed to shell out another $10 for a new cord which she tested for me before I bought it. I couldn’t have been happier. My guitar is back, and I kissed it goodnight as I tucked it in last night, into its padded case.

This morning I was very pleased to find a present I left for myself. Occasionally when I wear a dress shirt for only a few hours, I just hang it up rather than going through the trouble of washing it. Apparently I haven’t worn this black shirt for a while, and that’s where I had left my $2 Old Navy sunglasses, the ones I’m so proud of. That started the morning off just right.

When I stepped outside, I was shocked, so much so that I had to run back in and tell someone! It was cold! It was so cold I wouldn’t have worn a short sleeved shirt even if I could have, and that’s cold! It was beautiful, all dark and quiet, and I felt wonderful. The morning reached its highest point while I was driving along 75. The sunrise this morning was just about the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. It seemed all the more lovely realizing that everyone else was probably staring at the bumper in front of them, pissed that they were in traffic. I thanked God for showing off this morning, and I really think He was, it was gorgeous.

You know what makes me happy? Bananas. They taste great, they’re breakfast food, and let me tell you I love breakfast food, but they also go great with a million desserts. They’re so cheap that sometimes I’m not sure if the grocery store is charging me for the bananas or the little plastic sacks I put them in. Like a lot of fruit, they’re perfectly packaged, won’t make a mess before you open them, and they just look cool! I’m hyper because I bought a Starbucks coffee on the way to work, and seriously, have you not been reading what I’ve been saying? This day has been
awesome, and I haven’t even gotten to the part where I meet up with the most beautiful woman alive!

Here’s a sample of my current assignment at work. Somebody who came before me wrote a document describing what I’m now needing to describe, so I’m supposed to update the document to reflect the changes that have taken place in the last year. This is a small portion: “Although there are limited numbers of growth rate value have to enter the system by the regional planner, the operational group should be the person to enter these data.” Now I understand that we don’t all have to be English majors, but help me out here! I’m like a lonely guy getting frustrated trying to pick up chicks in a bar, I don’t know what’s single and what’s not! I’m also left curious as to who the subject is, and what exactly is going on. Also giving me cause to pause and wonder is this sentence: “There are some other user may provide the growth factor has not be fully identified yet.” If you think there was context to help interpret that one, you’re wrong.

Here’s another interesting bit: “The system and system administrator must get the database ready and monitor the database integrity.” Now this one is grammatically correct. This is also apparently an effort on behalf of the previous author to anthropomorphize a computer system to add life to an otherwise dry technical work. Apparently when the
database needs to be made ready, both the system administrator and the system itself must roll up their sleeves and put their heads together, working in unison to achieve their mutual goals. I wonder if the system gets paid for its hard work. So I guess I got my wish, I’m being paid to write, sort of. I wonder if they’d appreciate my desire to be the literary critic of the IT department.

- Adapted from a letter to the most beautiful woman alive. Loosley based on actual events. No animals were harmed during production except for the turkey consumed by the author while writing.

“When I say goodbye to Cynthia Breazeal [scientist at MIT’s Artificial Intelligence Laboratory], she tells me I should go to Japan, where robots are made to look more life-like, and people are less worried about them usurping human faculties. At Waseda University in Tokyo, she says, there is a robot that is truly amazing: it plays the flute. She doesn’t seem to realize that a French inventor built just such a machine, over 250 years ago.” –Introduction to Edison’s Eve

It’s funny to be confronted with a concept that completely redefines your perception of the world you live in. To think that history isn’t really what you thought it was can be an exceedingly intimidating idea. I think most of us suffer from the delusion that somewhere in the not too distant past, human beings got smart. They weren’t smart before that, they picked their teeth with Bowie knives, or came up with stupid ideas about fanciful creatures guarding the ends of the earth. Now we’re much more scientific. We don’t guess, we test and we know.

So why is there such evidence that contradicts us? Why are there pyramids and great stone walls and mysteries we’ve given up trying to understand, all accomplished back when we assume people were gathering berries for a living? The truth is we’re not any smarter, in fact, there’s evidence to the contrary. We build upon the discoveries of those who came before us, but do we innovate and invent and create like they did? Is the computer programmer smarter than the one who created the first computer? Is there a point to asking these questions?

I’m finally typing again on my laptop, which makes me happy. I had forgotten what a connection I had made with this machine, though it was created by the evil HP demons, and I do feel rather geeky thinking I have an attachment to a computer. I’ve missed writing my thoughts down while on the train, since the thing jerks back and forth so much it blurs my handwriting. The seats are also so cramped I have no room for my laptop unless I sit in the seats that are supposed to be made available to the elderly and handicapped. I’ve never seen either at 7 in the morning, so I avail myself of their seats all the time now. Without my laptop to play music and write on, I’ve been sleeping almost every time I get on the train, developing one of the strangest sleep related patterns I’ve ever come across, and that is the synchronous wake up.

I’ve observed this occurrence before when riding the bus system of Phoenix back before I came to college. Regardless of how bad the guy next to me smelled, or how large he was, or loud, and believe me it was always one of these things if not a combination, despite this I was always able to go right to sleep within 10 minutes of sitting down. Part of this was because my poor sleeping habits started way back then, and if anything I was even more foolish back then. It’s also a self perpetuating cycle, since once you find out you can get sleep on your commute, you factor it in to your routine. Anyway, I would then sleep soundly with my face pressed against the far from sanitary window, only rarely waking for a quick moment to see a new companion taking the place of the last one. I would then immediately close my eyes again and block the thought of them.

You see I rode the number 3, one of the longer routes in Phoenix at the time to my knowledge. I rode it from very close to my house all the way downtown, and it usually took about 90 minutes. This was the same bus line my father had ridden not long before me, in the years when he still worked for APS. I would occasionally hear him tell stories of the interesting characters he came across on this daily adventure, and wonder if they could really all be true. My dad’s description and warning was, “The number three … You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, we must be cautious.”

This wasn’t far off base. One morning I had to wait by the side of the road for about half an hour because the regularly scheduled bus had been held up by a stabbing. This happened fairly far north, which was unusual, but it happened on the number three bus, so it wasn’t utterly shocking. The man later claimed the CIA had implanted a chip in his leg that made him do it. Particularly downtown, it was not uncommon to pick up very shady looking characters, who often couldn’t keep their personal business to themselves for the duration of their trip. I remember several times the bus driver stopped the bus and joined in the shouting to try and resolve things. I also remember once stopping to pick up passengers, starting to leave, and then stopping very suddenly due to shouts by those looking out the window. Apparently some drunk old vagrant had managed to roll into the street with his head in front of the rear tire of the bus. After a lot of shouting he came to and wandered off again.

The number three ran along Van Buren, the street well known in Phoenix for its evening activities. This included some cheap bars, but primarily prostitution. I never saw the street at night however, so I didn’t understand when girls would make jokes about working on Van Buren. I would respond that I did too, wondering where they worked. They’d just laugh, realizing I was indeed a homeschooler, and therefore clueless. My favorite part about the culture associated with the number three were the large number of mentally retarded passengers that rode it for the first 20 minutes or so that I was on it. The one that most stuck out in my mind would call out in a very loud voice every morning what day it was, what day tomorrow was, what day he got paid on, and sometimes he’d add what yesterday was. I was always in the know on days of the week. The guy who usually sat next to him just continually threw angry glances at the guy in the aisle or the guy in the seat across the aisle, whichever didn’t exist, and made fierce hand gestures and appeared to be picking a fight with his imaginary adversary.

The point is, all this went on around me and entertained me immensely for the first few weeks, but eventually became routine. I therefore slept fabulously through it all, and the funny thing was, I would always wake up about 20-30 seconds before I needed to get off the bus. I don’t know if my body knew how long I could sleep because I’d become familiar with the route, or if it picked up on key sounds like the names of the streets being called out by the driver directly preceding my stop, but whatever it was, it was alarmingly accurate.

Now I do the same thing, with just as little clue as to how it works. I never miss my stop, and I wake up consistently around the same place. This morning was a bit different though, since I’ve been working out I sleep even more soundly. Luckily this time my companion was a mom with two kids, and the little girl, who was absolutely adorable, hit me and woke me up a little bit before I had to get off. That’s the most interesting thing that happens on the train. It costs more so it keeps the colorful characters off, I guess.

I began working out on Tuesday, joining the local community recreational center near my house. I have successfully targeted every muscle in my body, and now fight to suppress the moaning accompanying the aching pain brought on by any movement at all. It’s glorious, and it might just be the motivation I need to quit smoking. This weekend will be a good test to find out.

In other news, I have picked up a cheap book to learn java, and I learned tonight about one of the early inventors who envisioned robotics and artificial life. I read about it in a new book called Edison’s Eve, which I have decided to purchase soon because I verified this piece of information that I found incredible. In the late 1700’s, this French guy Vaucanson created this mechanical duck that mimicked the movement of a duck, ate like a duck, and then secreted what it ate. It had over a thousand moving parts, as many as 400 articulated parts in just the wings, and this device was about the size of a duck. With determination like that, we should have androids that laugh at how simple C3P0 was. Check out the incredible shitting duck here.

Thanks for reading all this stuff, I guess I’ve been holding it all in recently. I think my next trick will be to begin publishing my dream journal in Lesbian Writings, since I thought I was going to put stuff in there, and that never worked out. Please keep writing, I love reading all you guys’ blogs. Take care.

I wrote this and sent it to the CEO of HP, or so the website would have you believe. I wrote it more for the purpose of venting my frustration, and it worked for that. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

"Frustration is common when dealing with computers, however your technical support team lives by the concept of the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing. I have called about 4 or 5 different numbers, each given to me by the previous representative. On previous occasions, I have received contradictory information from each representative.

For a company that is supposed to not only accept new technologies but also deliver them, I find it absurd to need to produce paper copies of receipts that should long ago have been kept in a database.

I also understand that your clientele does not usually include technically proficient individuals, and as such your products are not designed to be easily altered. As I am becoming more proficient, I will make sure that one less competent individual obtains your company's services in the future."

Other than that, work as normal. Can't wait to get back to Longview.

It seems a shame that profundity and eloquence tend to spring from either depression or drug use, and neither of these is really what I want. I’m perfectly happy right now, at least I think I am, and it seems I have absolutely nothing to say. I listen to the troubles of my friends, and all I can think of to say is, I wish I could give you some of my happiness. Life is a roller-coaster, so I can only imagine I’m at a high point, perched precariously, and I should probably take one last breath so I can scream the whole way down. When my life does take a turn for the worse, if it does, then perhaps I’ll have something worth saying. I might even come up with decent metaphors then.

Until then, the excitement in my life is finding my cigar cutters, which came about as I tore through my room looking for CDs with operating systems. I also found a ton of replacement razor blades, some more aftershave, and a whetstone. It’s Christmas in August, and I bought my presents years ago.

I find a lot more of my time now has to be devoted to thinking about things that are utterly mundane, like work, paying bills, credit ratings, insurance, and such. I’m starting to get a little scared that I’m entering real life, at least taking my first few steps. I’m starting to feel like being a career student wouldn’t be so bad, if I didn’t have to age and become that 30-something year old in the back of the class that tries to get invited to parties to feel like a college student. Grad school would surround me with people my own age for a while, but they’re academic types for the most part, and I’m not sure that’d be nearly as fun as college has been thus far, so that’s really not an option either. I suppose we all grow old, and either move on or stagnate.

It’s not all that bad though, I do enjoy a lot less stress. I have free time that I hope to soon begin capitalizing on. Maybe that’ll be what I’m saying 30 years down the road, too.

I was reading some of the things I wrote in journals back a few years ago. I was caught up in the questions of what makes us who we are, what our purpose is, and grandiose concepts like that. I asked in one entry whether dreams had an impact on who we are. If we are the product primarily of our conditioning and surroundings, then what we experience defines a large part of who we are. Dreams are something we experience, and thus should probably be taken note of to better understand who we are. Why do I not seem to care as much any more? I am much more worried about becoming financially stable to better support a family. Maybe I’m changing, and maybe that’s not bad. Then again, I’m writing a post about the contributing factors and current status of my own personality, so maybe not all that much has changed.

When I wrote in my journal several months back that meeting this girl had turned my world around, I didn’t really know what was going on, I was quite simply overcome with a new sensation, an emotional intensity I’d never known before. I don’t suppose I’ve really come to grips with that reality yet, that my mindset has changed. I want to please her, and more than I’ve ever wanted to please my parents, even as a small child. I want to take care of her, and I’ve never really felt that much before. I’ve wanted to help people, and even to be a blessing in their lives, but it wasn’t at all this consuming before.

I guess it’s going to take some time to figure out what this change means, or if it’s permanent. Maybe that’s a choice I can make, and I need to figure it out, and make up my mind. Anyway, sleep is critical to thought, I think, so I’m off to bed.

Life as an intern is some funny stuff. As it turns out, nobody intends to tell me what I’m supposed to do. This is good in that I get to do pretty much whatever I want. This is bad in that they still have a level of expectation, so I need to do things that they want done, without the luxury of being told anything about how to accomplish them, or even who to ask for help. I’m given access to the company phone directory, and let loose to do what damage I can. This should prove to be interesting

I have had the most dreadful time staying awake lately, and it seems the unconscious world is trying to take over my life. I find myself so drowsy that dreams start before I’m even asleep, and cause me to wildly misinterpret the reality around me. This adds excitement to boring data entry, but believe me, it sure doesn’t help my communication skills. It’s funny that I should be sleep deprived without a single class to go to, but I guess old habits die hard.

This post is brought to you by the below average performance of Mrs. Hoffpauir’s computer. Contributions to the Hoffpauir Computer Rehabilitation Fund may be directed to this fine young lady. Due to radio silence with my better half, I have the need to talk out loud, so I thought typing beats the strange looks my family gives me when I’m mumbling to myself.

I’m a little scared about a recent trend I’ve noticed: I don’t think very much anymore. I’m not sure how this happened, and I’m not entirely sure I ever did actually think, but I’ve got some leftover proof that I’ve written a good paper or two in my lifetime, and even completed a decent size project. Surely those required thought. And back in high school, the round table, we debated life every Sunday night. I seem to remember thinking then, but then again high school was a time for delusions. If I just one day up and stopped thinking, then that’s a good thing because the solution is to just start up again. If it was a thought process that led me to quit thinking, then I worry if I can reverse the process, since it would probably require thinking to go back, and that’s exactly what I don’t do anymore.

I hope that reading the blogs you all so faithfully keep may help, and who knows, I might even start back up with keeping track of current events. I’m starting to feel it again, I might just be capable of this whole thinking business! Then again a quick read of CNN shows that cricket spitting, watching mars, and people blowing things up in the middle east just about wraps up the news. Maybe I’ll just read blogs. You guys will let me know about the important stuff right?

For the first time in about 15 years, I’m not going to be going to school in the fall. I knew this would happen eventually, and I knew it was going to be soon, I was just hoping I would have a degree when it did. The deal is, SBC has offered to extend my employment through the fall. The project they want me to work on is business requirement documentation, and I’ll be working with the project manager in IT to get things started. So this isn’t the job of my dreams, but it relates to computer science, pays decently, and will defer my loans while paying off my credit cards, as well as bulking up my rather thin resume. The downside is she still lives two hours away.

I had expected this for almost a week now, but I didn’t know for sure until this morning. It’s funny how the expectation of a thing, regardless of its probability, can make it seem like life as usual even when everything’s changing. My whole focus has shifted. I’m looking into how to save my poor decrepit car the hardship of a weekly trip to Longview and back. I’m starting to think of how to spend my now enormous amount of spare time. I’m hoping to write more, and all the usual self-improvement items that come up when I’m given extra time. Who knows. I’ve quit smoking for four days now, so there’s a start.

Tomorrow I’m going to San Francisco with my mother. She’s been wanting to take a trip with each of the four kids, and I’m the last of the three since I’ve been so busy this summer. I’ll be gone until about midnight Tuesday night. I’m excited to get some extra sleep, see Alcatraz, and spend time with my Mom, but it is Friday night, and I’m neither partying, nor spending time with the woman I love. That’s discouraging, even with a frappuccino to keep me company. C4, if you read this, sorry for ditching. I’ll try to make it up to you. Plus, we’ll be rooming together in the aftermath of some very special Christmas celebrations. Bildo would know what I mean.

So, the summer draws to a close, and I’m no nearer the life altering realization than when I started. Every time a new season comes around, I have these hopes that through it all, I’ll become the self-assured adult with strong sense of identity that I’ve always wanted to be. Well, maybe I’ll quit smoking and call it good, maybe that’s something personally significant.

I’ve found out a lot more about others though, I’ll grant that, and for it I’m glad, especially the young lady I’m dating. Everyday I learn something new about people, and some nuance is picked up that wasn’t before known. I’ve learned a bit about how love works, and how it doesn’t. I’ve learned how important honesty is. I’m always learning how important honesty is. It’s just that I honestly still don’t know exactly what I’m doing, supposed to be doing, and how to get from here to there. I know it’s in God’s hands, why can’t I leave it there? I’m not saying that to sound like a holy someone asking a rhetorical question, I’m serious, Why can’t I leave well enough alone in my own life?

I’ll tell you this much, I’m sleeping, and I’m praying, for the first time, that my laundry does shrink in the dryer. I know I need to work out, but seriously, why can’t I find a low cost shirt that has less X’s than the red-light district? Okay, I’m tired, and I’ll shut up now.

Well, it’s good to be free, if only partially. Tonight I can lay aside my little audio amplifier friend and not think about him for the rest of my life, if I so choose. I believe it went well, my project functioned about as well as anybody else’s. Nobody really knew what they were doing, and God blessed my efforts, so I guess I’ll be passing. This means I got home in time to sleep, and that is the greatest blessing of all, one I’m going to take full advantage of in a short while.

A lot of thoughts floating through your head have an interesting effect on your state of mind. At times it’s a very heady experience (bad pun, no way around it.). You feel rather intellectual having such a broad range of thoughts. For me however, the interesting thing is a lack of conclusions, no headway made. (okay, head is now the running joke of this post, so heads up. . . . .I hate myself.)

One of the predominant thoughts of this evening has been that I now have a completely new perspective on success and failure. The happiness I felt at a successfully completed task turned me into a small child, longing to show the woman he cares for how he did, hoping she’ll be happy too. It’s no longer my mother, it’s her, and it’s not quite the same, but the funny thing is, I wanted her there when I had that feeling of exultation. Life just seems more full when she’s with me.

Sleep, and far overdue. I can’t wait to get back to writing, it’s such a great release, and so is finishing up school. Goodnight.

Here I am, confused as hell
And I'm tired too, and it's just as well
Sleep keeps me from thinking, of anything at all
Running full speed to dead ends, my head bashing life's wall
Sometimes I don't know just what I'm to do
I suppose that you might . . . well good for you
At least I'm striving, and I really am trying . . .
No wait, I'm just lying, I selfishly choose
Between you and me, and sometimes you lose
More than often you do, so I suppose I do too
These weak hands are mine, but I know I'll keep gripping
And finding I'm slipping, letting my life unwind
I'm fighting for wrong causes, just waiting for long pauses
Where I can stay silent and silently judge you
Superior to you, way ahead and above you
Holier than thou, I don't even know how
To speak words that are kind when I open my mind
Thinking thoughts that would shame you
But not me, the content fool
I'll just walk on by, twinkle stuck in my eye
Whistle some lame-ass song, don't even care right or wrong
'Cause I'm captain of soul, pretty good on the whole
Think you're better than me? I know better than you
I've got myself to tell me of what's good and true
So why can't I smile when nobody's there?
Is my heart now dead, or just hidden somewhere?
Why am I lonely in this big city's middle?
Why should my God be left to play second fiddle?
Could I be all that bad?
Am I quite this depraved?
Did it take Jesus' death just for me to be saved?
Would He take me back? Can I be worth His while
When I'm on the wrong track, and faking my next smile?
Dear God, hold me close, when I'm stubborn morose
And pry stubborn fingers, I long to be free
I'm full sick of myself, Please take me from me


By the way, I'm fine right now, I'm really not that depressed. I am a little tired, and a little confused. And I'm always upset at my own selfish tendencies. This is me from time to time I suppose, but right now I'm blessed beyond measure. Don't ask why I didn't write happier, your guess is as good as mine.

An incredible feeling of peace and release has come over me since last night. I was headed to bed early, waiting next to my phone for someone precious to call me, and I couldn’t quite drift off to sleep. It was a thought in the back of my head that I should read the Bible. Not so much an obligation, but just somehow that it needed to be done, and right then. The ribbon in my New Testament was set at Colossians, so I started there.

I still haven’t really read much recently, I’ve picked it up a few times, and I’ve really been talking with God about my life, asking forgiveness, asking direction, just asking Him to draw me close again. This book was interesting, and it was just what I needed to read right now. It really hit me this time reading it that Paul himself wrote it by hand, rather than having anyone else write it down for him. As I was reading through, it seemed for the first time in a long time like it was actually about life, even my life, and not just a bunch of old dead people.

The most amazing thing it said, at least in how it relates to my life right now, was in chapter two, verses twenty through twenty three. It talks about moral laws and says, “If you have died with Christ to the elementary principles of the world, why, as if you were living in the world, do you submit yourself to decrees, such as, ‘Do not handle, do not taste, do not touch!’ (which all refer to things destined to perish with use), in accordance with the commandments and teachings of men? These are matters which have, to be sure, the appearance of wisdom in self-made religion and self-abasement and severe treatment of the body, but are of no value against fleshly indulgence.”

This is exactly where I’m at. I’m constantly trying to figure out what I can do to keep in a “holy” state of mind. Lust, pride, envy, even sloth continue to plague my mind from time to time, and every time I’m reminded by God that I’ve failed to focus on Him, I feel like next time all I need is to just….and it never works. The answer is not in plans or procedures, perfectly thought out ways of avoiding temptation, the answer is in chapter three verse two, “Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth.”

I know it sounds like a Sunday school lesson, and it’s obvious, but it really spoke to me. After leaving it alone for so long, I’m surprised by how much I need it. It’s amazing, several times today I’ve actually wanted to read the Bible, and couldn’t because I’d left it at home. Many times before I simply have read because I felt I had to, and then moved on to the book I really wanted to read, whatever it was at the time.

I don’t know what all this sounds like, probably puffed up and proud, but I’m not. I’m coming along very slowly, and feel like the backward child that He continuously has to remind to simply trust and stay focused on Him. Maybe it sounds naïve, perhaps I sound like Pollyanna. All I know is He’s still working on me, just wanted to thank Him and let you all know.

I really want to start writing more, and have some ideas I’d like criticism on. I’m adding a permanent link to my other blog which has remained abandoned for some time. Check it out if you have the time, and by the way, I prefer negative criticism, especially on my fiction.

I’d like to write more often, but it seems I’m already biting off more than I can chew. Between working and studying I drive to Longview. I’m still trying to find where sleep fits into all this. Strange things happen when you’re sleep deprived, like waking up from a nap to hear your father nagging you to get more sleep. Stranger yet are the rhythms your body gets into. I can be completely exhausted all day, but once the sun starts to set, I can feel life beginning. By the time I set my alarm clock and get to bed, I’m at my most alert.

The funny thing is, I should be able to sleep and work at the same time since it requires such little brain activity. Another funny thing about this situation is that I’ve always regarded sleep as a leisure activity, certainly not something to be done as a matter of responsibility. The Bible warns of a little sleeping, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest, but I don’t remember reading anything exhorting me to get a good night’s sleep. Of course, written to a culture where probably very few people would consider staying awake far into the night, I suppose it was assumed then that you slept at night, and sleeping while it was light was the only thing to worry about.

I feel like writing about dreams again, but instead I’ll just dream. Maybe tomorrow will lend itself to writing. Maybe I’ll wake up early. Maybe want will come in like an armed man, and I’ll realize that Proverbs was right.

Balance is something hard to find in my life, when I so value extremes as to eclipse any sense of it. Longing and patience in the relationship with the woman I love. Financial planning and reliance upon God to meet my needs. Self expression and humility mixed with tact. These things are difficult to pursue because they’re all good, but each requires the check provided by its pair to be what it should. I’m anxious again, and in part due to lack of sleep. I plan on fixing that by partying this weekend with some of my best friends, go figure.

If you read this and don’t talk to me on a regular basis, let me inform you that I no longer work regularly for MON-The Gazette, the paper of choice for North Dallas African Americans, I now have an internship with SBC. I’m also taking Electronics II over again, trying with all my might to get a decent grade, but at the very least to pass this time. That’s about it for the day to day life.

Last night an interesting thing happened, I found out what the two actual causes for one of my greatest sources of fright are. I have for a long time heard the half dead residents of my family’s attic at night. The first night I slept in my room, I heard them moving in. They were sliding boxes around and I could also hear their limp, dead limbs dragging across my ceiling. At times I could hear them mumbling to each other using inarticulate grunts, and at times I could hear them trying to loosen the screws to the vent which supplies my room with air. I thought at first that it must be a tree limb or some such thing on the outside of the house. Imagine my fear increasing as I found there are no trees near this side of the house. This may sound crazy, but I’m actually disappointed to find the true source of the noises.

It turns out the deep sounds of them moving and speaking were supplied by my father’s unique sinus configuration. The sound of their fingers loosening my vent cover were contributed by my brilliant snake Buddy who is constantly trying to escape his aquarium on one of my bookshelves. So I sleep a little easier, saddened by the loss of some pretty good shivers.

I missed talking with her tonight by a few minutes, and though I’ll get to see her lovely face tomorrow, I miss her with every fiber of my being. Something inside me compels me to let others know just how much I love you sweetheart. My life has changed so much since meeting you, and I can’t thank you or God enough for all that has come to pass, and all I now hope and pray for in the future.

To all who read this despite my delinquency in updating, thank you for providing me with encouragement to write just by dropping by. I feel just a bit more alive when I’ve had the chance to write. Sleep comes easier knowing my thoughts are saved, and knowing that I have to make some sense of them before typing them helps sort them out in my mind. My mind is at ease, thanks again, goodnight.

Written last night around midnight

I don’t seem to learn very quickly. I found myself in a funky mood tonight, and there’s several reasons for that. I’m sleep deprived, and this is a major factor. I shouldn’t trust any of my emotions when I’m running on about 4 hours or less per night. I misinterpret my own actions, my own feelings, other people’s words, I should barely be allowed to speak in such a condition.

This brings up a very important point: I’ve found the most wonderful woman in all the world. No one besides God has been so patient with me, ever. She called me tonight and though her day had stress as well, she comforted and re-assured me, said she’d pray for me. I want to be there emotionally for her, very much, but tonight through little things she was there for me. God I thank you for her.

So, the reason I’ve been a bit off tonight really was that in the last couple days I’ve been planning out my whole life. I’ve been trying to fit everything all nicely into a bulleted list, and develop action items to become the captain of my soul.

It’s ironic that one of the most important things I want for today and the future is a better relationship with God. So I’m sitting there trying to figure out how I’m going to accomplish everything, when one of the things I want to accomplish is to surrender to Him.

I couldn’t sleep tonight, so I talked to Him for a while and admitted again how slow I am at grasping such a simple concept. It’s unreal how awesome He is, and it’s so good to know He’s the same, even when I waffle back and forth with the prevailing wind.

I guess I can sleep now.

So, now that I’ve waited another year or so since writing last, I suppose it’d feel good to throw some more random thoughts out on the water and let them sail off on the online sea.

I’m tired of selling advertising over the phone, and it’s been less than a week. I’m trying to convince the companies I call to buy advertising in an African American newspaper. I explain to them the value of marketing to the black readership of North Dallas, because that’s who I am, and that’s who I care about.

I’m disappointed in Arlington for not paying their half cent sales tax so that I could ride public transportation from my job to my school. At first blush, this would appear to be a horrible whine on my part for not receiving a handout, but the fact is, over half of my school’s land is covered in asphalt, and I contribute daily to the onslaught of carbon monoxide assaulting this section of the Metroplex. I doubt anyone seriously minds chipping in a buck or two to let poor people ride the bus. I think a few more trees and a few less parking spaces would be appreciated by the masses too.

So I’ve got bamboo and a snake now, both looking to me to provide and care for them. The responsibility required is just about right for where I am, for now. I hope God works on me in the next few years. I’m really feeling young, wondering when I’ll feel the adult I’m supposed to be. In ways I’m ready to move on and take more responsibility, in ways I’d kinda like to buy a one way ticket to Australia and just hitch rides from one city to the next with a best friend. How do you reconcile such opposite desires?

I’m tired, and despite C4’s belief to the contrary, I don’t sleep enough. I’ll ramble more later.

A lot of guys I know, I’d say most, and usually while they’re not with a girl, have taken the time to think about what they want in a girl. There are qualities of character that some girls have, and others do not. Some qualities are more important than others, but usually there are some that cannot be missing from someone that you intend to spend your life with. Sometimes, in coming up with these qualities, guys say, “It’s okay if she’s not this, so long as she’s this, after all, nobody’s perfect.” For those who believe God takes an active role in our finding romantic love, they pray asking Him to lead them to a girl with these qualities. I had thought this through before too. I didn’t have a clue.

When the guys I know have fallen in love, they say they’ve found the one, the one they were looking for, the one with the qualities they had prayed for. In the past, I could have listed qualities all day, I could have asked God for what I thought was the perfect woman, down to the last detail, allowing no room for shortcomings. The truth is, before I met her, I couldn’t have asked for all that she is. The one I was looking for, the one I thought was perfect, was less than her. She came into my life and turned it upside down, and I can barely recognize it at times.

I dream of her every night now, but before I met her, I couldn’t have ever dreamt of such a woman existing, let alone caring for me. All I can do is love her with all my heart, and it pales in comparison with her. I pray that God will make me more, that I might have more to give her.

Written on 5/16 at around 5 p.m.

Reading blogs is a funny way to understand someone’s life. I just called Dan on the phone, wondered if he was a bit down the way he was talking. I haven’t been reading blogs for a few days, so I didn’t know what a number of you all may. I’ve been busy, too busy to write, too busy to read? Obviously I need to change some priorities. Now I've got a bit of a clue. I’m sorry Dan. I’m really, really sorry Diana.

Why does this stuff happen, does it really make any of us stronger? Is it beneficial that we become calloused, that we put up walls, that the flavor is pulled from tender words? Why does one feel love, and it remains unrequited? Is there a higher and nobler reason for the pain? Are we doing something wrong in opening our hearts so? Tell me if you know.

Breathing deeply the fragrance of ammonia and bleach, I need a break to collect and put down my thoughts. Cleaning is a funny ritual for me. I accept unusual amounts of hideous debris to collect on me as I scrub and wipe the place I live. I feel as though I can take it, as though I’m required to take the dirt upon myself before it can truly be gone. Credit some misguided messiah complex or whatever for that, but I prefer scrubbing by hand, inspecting each surface close up to ensure the job is done.

I take an inordinately long amount of time to do dishes by hand, too. I continue wiping away long after they’re clean enough. I suppose it’s in part due to my upbringing, which I remind everyone of when I receive looks for 30 second (minimum to remove bacteria) hand washings, or even when I surprise myself with borderline obsessive-compulsive cleaning tendencies. Nearly every woman in my extended family has been a nurse it seems. My sister is in medical school. Then I’ll eat stuff off the floor, and some people say I’m a stable personality type. They’re close. I have stable personality types. The ends of the spectrum, I’m curious, let me have several types of lives at once.

I’ll do yoga, run, take up swimming, then I’ll light up a cigarette. I enjoy the outdoors, backpacking, but I want to live near or in a metroplex. Quiet and contemplative, then streaking around the neighborhood with only a beer. I wonder if I have to give up parts of my person and become completely one way or the other. Anyway, all this to say, you should see the bathroom, it’s getting a facelift.

If you haven’t read Donne, do.

“It were but madness now t’impart
The skill of specular stone
When he which can have learned the art
To cut it, can find none.”
The Undertaking, John Donne

First, I had a post written about friends, best friends, and family, but I lost it, credit my use of Blogger here. Anyway, I’m in a superb mood right now, I love evening phone calls, and I love free minutes after 9. To the group, I’ve got the tickets, and I’m sorry, they’re in the covered seating, but they’re not first section. I’m still excited about the concert though, hope you all are too.

So, I’m in a good mood, but being tired and catching up on blogs, I’m faced once again with one of my personal dilemmas. My problem is that I can’t stand “happy Christians”. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I mean, in principle I agree with them. I believe God did create the world, Jesus did die for my sins, He does love me, He does cause all things to work together for my good. Somehow, at times, that’s just not what I want to hear, especially from people who know so little about me.

When I feel comfortable admitting to someone that I’m struggling with some decisions in life, nothing makes me want to kill a man like somebody responding to me by singing Trust And Obey. When I’m worried about a job, a relationship, a hurting friend, a lack of direction, whatever, I’m not interested in your third grade Sunday School lesson, complete with Flannel-graph and coloring pages.

I’m not sure if I’m way off target here either, maybe I just need to calm down. Here’s some verses that resonate with me when I feel this way:

When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.
I Corinthians 13:11

He who blesses his friend with a loud voice early in the morning, It will be reckoned a curse to him. Proverbs 27:14

Like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, or like vinegar on soda, is he who sings songs to a troubled heart.
Proverbs 25:20

So I’m unsure right now as to how to feel. I have an aversion to what I believe to be ignorant smarminess, but if someone is blessed and built up by it, who am I to condemn it? Maybe I’m jealous because I so rarely feel emotionally close to God. Maybe some people need to open their eyes and face reality. God is big enough to handle the shit that happens down here, we don’t have to pretend the sun is shining when it’s pouring outside.

Written on 4/16 at around 9 p.m.

So, I’m at Starbucks now, feeling like I’m where I belong again. It’s good recognizing your own life. As good as it is to be ecstatic about newfound love, it’s nice to remember where you’ve come from, and not feel depressed about it. I like my life just fine, I actually am okay alone. I remember writing down, and being fairly honest with myself in saying I am relatively well equipped to live a life alone. I’m sitting here smoking a cigar (albeit a cheap one), drinking a coffee, and writing on my laptop with no one beside me. I’m fine with that.

Here’s an idea, why don’t I live as I know I should? In particular, the thought that come to mind right now is that with this girl who called me, though I’m somewhat interested, I should do as others do, and seek out other female company. Don't let yourself become too attached, don't pursue too much. This is not a novel concept, it’s just new to me.

Interesting, I hear more groups of students, attractive girls and trendy guys. They sit and talk of relationships and new upstart bands. They pat each others back for "clever" uses of obscenity and rather poor uses of analogy. At least they know what an analogy is.

Will I do it again? Who knows. If I fall for a girl like her, truly close to my equal in books read, philosophy expanded and expounded, will I have to accept her strong willed disregard for my feelings at times?

So quickly, despite the lovely weather and heady excitement of writing, I long to be with people again, to develop friendships, to listen to someone’s stories and watch their eyes dance at the exciting parts. I want to hear Gerald from Andrew’s house tell another story, as loudly and colorfully as he can. I want to hear somebody’s heartfelt sadness and depression, and tell them that at least they have our friendship. I should be comfortable alone, but I’m not. I asked for people to call me, but they haven’t.

-It wasn't supposed to make sense, I was in the very middle of confusion.

Have you ever enjoyed re-heated food so much that you wonder why you tried eating it after only cooking it once? Lasagna is one of these mysteries. Through many experiments, and by many third party accounts, I’ve come to the conclusion that lasagna continues tasting better every time you re-heat it. This is not my theory, it was told to me by a friend, but I can’t disagree. The burger I just re-heated for some reason tastes heavenly, easily an order of magnitude better than it was fresh. I think reheating it caused the cheese to become one with the burger and bun. Warm melted cheese definitely approaches the all time orgasmic food list, which I have yet to compile.

I continually return to Ecclesiastes, it seems the most relevant book in the world when you’re feeling uncertain, which for me, to varying degrees, has been my life since about age 12. There is indeed a time for all things, and I’d argue that timing is one of the most misunderstood things about life. It’s funny how projects always get finished up on the day they’re due, it’s funny that when it rains, it pours. The telemarketer calls at dinner, and you meet a new friend because your alarm clock didn’t go off.

This seemingly incomprehensible set of causes and effects points to one of two things. Chaos theory, in all of its mind numbing complexity, or an all powerful God with a sense of humor. The sweet is never quite as sweet without the sour, and joy contrasts so well with sorrow. So even when things suck, I think I can confidently say, God’s not through yet, and I believe I’ll be able to laugh about a great many things somewhere down the road.

I don’t pretend to have been through great adversity, and I’ve never been starving or homeless. How do you develop a life philosophy having never been destitute or persecuted, knowing you may very likely never be, but with the knowledge that many are? Again, there is a time for everything, weeping and rejoicing too, and I can’t walk around with a sad look on my face all the time because people are suffering. To do that would be to reject all of the wonderful things God has given to me. Perspective is so hard, in so many areas of life.

So tonight it’s Linux and me. Cheshire cheese and white merlot. Tool’s Lateralus is on the stereo, Buddy is around my neck. It’s not that bad an evening, to be honest, in fact, one of the better evenings I’ve ever spent alone. I’ll more than likely end up smoking a pipe and calling some friends in a western time zone later on, just like I often do. Day one without cigarettes actually feels a lot better than I thought it would.

Funny day, focus returns. My life begins to reshape itself into what I always knew it was, but got sidetracked. A dose of reality brings about clarity of thought and mind, reminds me who I am.

Amongst other things, a good friend of mine is having his life turned upside down in the worst way possible, so he had to leave school to deal with it. I’ve been told a couple of my other close friends may be leaving too, eloping, but such rumors are many where I come from. The crazy stuff that used to just be in the back of your mind, stuff out of books or tabloids or Springer-esque shows, yeah, my friends are living it, or so it seems.

I came to school thinking I was naïve and had no clue about the real world. The funny thing is, I thought it was in regard to alcohol, sex, drugs, things that my parents cringe at when I mention them. It’s just not so. I know most of what these things are all about, I know friends who are deep into it (not a pun with sex, though I like it.) What I’m naïve about is love, hate, prejudice, and depression. I don’t understand any of those things, and I’m not trying too hard to learn. Let me have my fantasy world where people all get along.

I’m not talking about some fantasy world that I sit and close my eyes to live in, I’m talking about everyday, you and me. With the people I meet, I’m going to pretend these things don’t exist. I want to accept you as you are, let you know you’re valuable. I might not even have met you, but I know you’re precious in so many ways. If you feel devalued, I’ve tasted some of that too, but it’s not the mountain it seems. Let’s talk.

In my fantasy, all my friends get along with each other. Nobody intentionally hurts anyone else, and forgiveness is just an apology away. I’m living in a dream world, don’t feel like you have to point that out. The world is full of hurt and sin, I know it. I just choose not to acknowledge it. Germs exist too, but I’ll eat off your floor. Life can be something wonderful, we’re not the victims we think we are.

So I’m going to Starbucks now, because it’s one of my happy places. So many memories, it’s almost paralyzing, but it’s so wonderful. Please give me a call, I’m in the mood to talk. My IM is CovertDni, you’ll find my cell number there, I’m not about to make that a permanent addition to my blog. You can dump on me if life sucks, or just say life is beautiful and hang up. If I don’t talk with you soon, try being happy tonight, regardless of the shit that you might be going through.

I remember when I used to write happy blogs. That was cool, and now that I’m actually happy again, with a need to express myself, I’m going to write a blog entry when I should be writing several lab reports. I’m still writing those things, don’t get me wrong, but first things first.

Funny things about today:
1. The people I work with at the newspaper saw my tattoo
2. My mother saw my tattoo
3. Nobody I know hates me

Things that made me happy:
1. My mother didn’t flip out
2. A best friend called me just to see if I was okay
3. I still have chenille pillows
4. My friends are all awesome

The people at my job are a trip. Things said behind other people’s back are funny to hear, and nobody cares about me, I’m just the new kid. People complain about the boss being cheap, which he probably knows about. People talk of each others eccentricities with disapproval. The VP and the random white British lady are always giving each other a hard time, and it’s funny.

One of the older black ladies who handles the churches that the newspaper tries to get to advertise with them saw my tattoo today, kinda gave me the elderly look of disapproval, but then proceeded to tell me that she bought her children a star, you know, where $50 names a star that nobody cares about. It seemed like it was the only thing she could think of that would make sure I still thought she was cool, not judgmental. For those of you who don’t know, my tattoo is the constellation Orion, tattooed by Freak, about a week ago on the inside of my right ankle, and yeah, I’m happy with it.

My mom and I sat at the table tonight again, talking of life, love, school, and the future. I was shirtless and letting Buddy crawl all over my arm and neck, so it was a really funny picture. Anyway, I cross my leg and she sees it. “Ohhh Mark, did you do that to yourself recently? You didn’t do it permanent, yeah, you did, oh man.” Very disappointed, but after I explained myself she was like, “You at least have your heart in the right place on the most important things. The mistakes I believe you’ve made are in things that aren’t so important.” That felt really good to hear, from someone who disapproves of what I do sometimes.

Seriously, you are all awesome, even those of you who will never read this. I probably don’t tell you enough what you mean to me, but without ya’ll, I wouldn’t want to live. By the way, spell checker says ya’ll is fine, so calm down. Texas is growing on me, which I always knew, but now I’m not so sure I’m going to have to wash it off.

*sigh*, okay, labs.

The mask comes off . . .

“For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow”
-Ecclesiastes 1:18
“I am still seeking but have not found. I have found one man among a thousand, but I have not found a woman among all these”
-Ecclesiastes 7:28

In situations that face you with your powerlessness, there is this momentous decision you can make, and in your own life, it’s the most powerful thing you could ever do. An example in my life was brought to mind last night. In times past I’ve written about the way I open myself very quickly to people with whom I feel a connection, and how this can leave me open to a good deal of hurt. I’ve said that I’d do it again, without reservation. Last night was different.

I believed, for a while, that I wouldn’t ever want to repeat this. This pain was different than any I’d known, save maybe a heartfelt confession to God of my life’s sins. When crying out to God, I asked forgiveness, knowing the thing to do was to turn from sin. This time I really don’t know what the right thing is.

There is something powerful here though, and I have a very important opportunity. I have no control over a lot of things, but I can decide whether to become calloused or not. The situations in life are often out of our control, but our reactions are not. If I find myself in the same situation again, I can choose to open myself completely or put up my guard, I’m not calloused yet. Nobody has ever told me what’s right, so this choice is far from easy.

Do I want to know why? Is the grief worth the wisdom? Can my heart so soon let go? What’s worse, if it can, should it?

And maybe the answers are all personal. Maybe there is not a soul in the world that could tell me what love is. Maybe the next step is only to be taken by myself and God. Maybe I haven’t asked the right people.

. . . And I put it on again. Isn't it a beautiful day today?

Quick thought: I’m driving on my way to Longview, best friends to see, and I noticed an abuse of my tax dollars that kinda upset me. Road signs are meant to help you drive safer, regulate traffic, noble causes. I rarely pay attention to these signs because I’m a bad driver, but today I noticed one and wondered. Textured Pavement Ahead. What the hell do I care? Should I quick pull over and put on my textured tires? Am I supposed to shift into textured drive? If I get into an accident, I can rest assured I’ll be sliding along textured pavement, and that makes me happy. I’m glad I was forewarned.

So I guess blogs still exist. I started reading some of your posts today, all of you. You write so well, I miss hearing your thoughts, I’ve just been so distracted. I’m not promising to get back to writing or reading, though I’d like to. I’m not promising I know anything. I just know what I need to do, and that’s the greatest thing in the world after so much uncertainty.

So life isn’t what I thought, once again. Things are never as they appear, and I’m certain one moment, lost the next. That’s fine, I said I’d do the right thing when it was revealed, it’s time to do what has to be done. Life isn’t supposed to be all fun. It’s time to grow up.

I spent some time talking with my mother the other night, which is not uncommon, though it’s been a while. She brought up, with my encouragement, some aspects of my personality I need to work on. I don’t know how you guys feel about that sort of thing, but I used to hate it. I used to just deny that anyone really knew me, and figure they ought to just accept me the way I am. Well that’s not wrong, it’s just not all. Turns out LeTourneau hit the mark in their first evaluation of me in one respect. I have issues with authority. I’m working on it.

It came to mind when Dan talked about the girl that won’t return his phone calls. I never knew her the way he did, but she was a really fun girl to hang out with, and she won’t return mine either. I think I’m getting to the point where I truly am ready for criticism, I won’t bite your head off. If I’ve wronged you, tell me. If I’m acting the fool, take me aside, I may not see what you do, and I’d really appreciate your insight.

I feel like I’ve been given a second chance, if I truly repent of my evil studying ways, I can still graduate in December. This is just shy of miraculous, in that the sun didn’t have to retreat or anything, but I count it as a great deal of grace. So what now, I’m going to have to cut time short with friends for the next few weeks. That goes against everything I believe in. Relationships are so much more important than studies, but at some point I have to finish this thing. I’ve been at it far to long to let it slip. Among many other areas in my life, it’s time to take the last few steps and move on.

So yeah, this post may not have been pleasant to read, but it sure helped me to write it. Keep up your good work, I like what I’ve read.

“I went to a shrink to analyze my dreams.
She says it’s lack of sex that’s bringing me down.” - Basketcase, Greenday

Today marks my 10 year anniversary of not posting, suppose it’s time to return, for the sake of my own sanity.

Things change so fast. Buddy is now over three feet long now, when did he grow so much? My semester is nearly over, time to register for another. I keep forgetting I’m even in this one.

Where to now? I feel like more decisions should be made, like I should go look at houses and jobs in other cities. The truth is that my place right now is treading water, and there’s no getting around it. I have yet three classes (Lord willing I pass the ones I’m in now), and they’re just general education requirements, nothing difficult or helpful in my career. I’m jumping through hoops for my license to work. I’m living off loans, betting against my own future.

The truth is I’m ready for responsibility, I’m ready to start my life. The truth is, tonight on the way home from class I bought a six pack and I’m going to stay up talking on the phone with my friends and I’ll be driving down to Longview with the intent to party. So am I lying when I say that first part? I don’t know.

Yesterday was more than I thought I could take. I’ve been filled with more than I’ll likely ever be able to work out, and it was so
good. My newfound dear friend took me through her home town, retelling parts of her life. Floods of emotion swept over me, I was silent. To go so quickly through someone’s life, someone you care about and want to know everything about is tough. I don't want to forget a thing.

Then, last night four friends went out to a place that has become so meaningful to me I wonder if it should be named. We stood telling stories, gazing at stars, but mostly just listening. We all shared something indescribable, and my heart, already full, felt from then on to be tearing at the seams. It was so wonderful, a day I wish I could hold onto and live in forever, but holding on is something I’m bad about, and I’m trying to work that out. Life goes on.

The problems seems, I’m stuck in and out of a dream, and I isolate myself from everyone when I dream. In my daydreams I see what I want to, and picture my life as I would have it. Sleepwalking makes my friends into figments, like the face you don’t recognize in a dream, but you know who they are because you’re making it all up anyway. Is it as C4 says? Do I define my friends? Do they define me? I want to know them as they truly are.

I see things that aren’t there all the time, in the fantasy that gives shape to what appears formless. That I can’t help, and I’m fine with that. When I draw close however, and see what’s really there, I can’t go on acting like what I saw was still there. Wake up, I’m going to live in the real world, learn real love, real sacrifice, real friendship, and leave the phantasms behind. I need you God, the dream world seems so safe, and I’m already hesitating. Don’t let me fade away again.

The sky just seemed so endless tonight, and I feel so small
I used to think of endless possibilities, and reaching for those stars
But tonight I just want to hold someone, have them hold me

But wait! There’s more. It’s amazing what a shower and shave can do. I feel renewed, whole again. I’d been waiting for too long for something to happen, it’s a phase I go through, I pray to God that I am through. I feel like I’m waking up in the middle of a mess left by my previous self, and it’s time to clean up. I feel like breaking something, running all night, throwing verse like a rapper, or starting a fight. I know that was shameless, depraved, dumb and heinous. I’d like to be like them, and someday with any luck, I’ll feel like a rapper, and simply not give a fuck.

I credit my desire to write songs to the fact that my laptop is sitting in front of me. Seem odd? Well the power supply is 3 hours away, and it’s my main source of music. My desktop is dysfunctional and has no sound card. So you can imagine the sounds in my head, or wait, maybe you can’t.

Also, oddly, for some reason, credit a DVD or something, I’ve been running words through my head, seeing which ones rhyme, which ones sound like only a girl with an imaginary friend would use in poetry. I talk to myself in the car a lot, and recently every time I come upon a word I like, I sit there trying to rhyme with it. Well, maybe I’m both that girl and her imaginary friend, who knows. Maybe I’ll give myself a chemical burn on the hand and find out. It’s only when you’ve lost everything . . .

It’s just me and a cheese block, what a night. I don’t feel like it, but I’ll study anyway, time to do something constructive with my life.

It feels like New Years today, much to be thankful for, much to resolve. It feels like the past month has encompassed a year, and though I may not have grown, I have undoubtedly lived.

I’m happy because Buddy, my snake, returned to me last night, wrapping himself around my leg while I was asleep at around 4 a.m. My dad got a job, I got a high F on my Electronics II test, allowing me more of an opportunity to pass than I thought. I’ve met a new best friend, too

I want to resolve to waste less time wishing , and spend more time working.
Guitar, working out, memorization and languages are back in.
I also resolve to write about things other than current or past crushes, and I mean it.

Also, has anyone else ever been upset by what I like to call the milk & peanut butter principle? You know, it's when you're snacking on something that requires something to wash it down with (for me this is everything including orange slices), and you either end up with entirely too much to drink at the end, or not nearly a sufficient amount? This can snowball, depending on how hungry you are and how far it is to the fridge. On many occasions I've returned to the fridge, filled my glass entirely, as it seemed such a long walk from my room to only put in a quarter glass or so, then upon returning finding that I had not nearly sufficient snacks to justify the newly aquired drink. This predicament is exasterbated by things like fixed volume drinks such as cans and small bottles, or heaven forbid, fixed volume foods too. It can go on forever if you're not equipped with enough tupperware or self-control.

“Maybe someday I won’t be so lonely
And I’ll walk on water, heh, every chance I get.”
Time and Time Again, Counting Crows

A friend of mine has limited me to 3 cigarettes a day, I promised.
I smoke each one like it’s a joint.
My whole week has passed in a smoky haze,
And like a cloud it passes without a trace.
I’m off to dinner with my brother, hope to help him see
Give him a few tips on how not to be me.

The other day I listened to a woman describing how men, or a particular man in this case, would penny pinch and worry about money, yet spend a great deal of money on their car stereo. That contains a ton of issues I won’t touch right now, but let me tell you why the car stereo issue is so crucial, and needs clarification.

For me, and I believe for others, the car, stereo and all, is our psychotherapist. The feel of turning a corner and simply flooring it, right at that point in the song where the lead guitar comes in, is worth hundreds of dollars and hours spent on some guys’ couch talking about your relationship with your mother. It’s indescribable, it’s cathartic, and it’s soothing to every depth of mind and soul.

To invest in a good sub-woofer or new speakers may be likened to several months, or even years of buying aroma therapy candles, buckets of ice cream, or even sappy romantic movie rentals. To tell you the truth, I’ve done these last three extensively, and have yet to increase the low frequency output of my car’s stereo, but honestly, I believe this is true.

The stereo in my car is easily 20 times better than the cassette deck in the car I learned to drive, and it has immeasurably helped my emotional well being. My car accelerates from 0-60 in under a minute, also an upgrade from my last vehicle, also helping me cope with day to day life. The car is not merely transportation for the body, it goes much deeper than that. My car has heard more of my innermost thoughts than any single human being, and has helped me through more hard times than anyone besides Sallie Mae, god bless her money lending soul.

So yeah, some guys are only trying to impress, get a reaction, stroke their ego, but many of us are just trying to get at spiritual harmony through the only means we know how, a blissful acoustic experience every time we start the car.

Some quick items for your attention:

I've removed Dan and Bethany's links, but only temporarily as neither has posted. If either posts two posts on separate days, but within the same month, I'll add them again. If you haven't read through their archives, I'd recommend it, especially Bethany's.

Check out either Dan or Elliot's blogs, the link to the warning signs is hilarious.

Two things I want, but in one word
For God to cleave me, into two
Rend selfish self from redeemed soul
And make me pleasing unto to You

The second thing, and next in line
I want to cleave myself, in time
To someone who, Lord, longs for thee
Would love You first, and marry me

I woke up this morning thinking about that word, like so many high dollar words that float through my head while showering, often without my comprehending them. A good friend of mine expressed distaste for the ambiguity of our language, and I agree at times. I think I like this word cleave though.

And now, for something completely different . . .

This morning while on my ride back from school, I saw a trashcan on the median. In Dallas, this is common, it allows motorists to dispose of trash in their car while in the left hand turn lane. This one had a rather unique slogan though, and it made me laugh. It said, “Recycle To The Max, reduce your waste to a minimum.” Can’t you just see some cartoon guy trying to look cool, with sunglasses on, saying something like, “Dude, recycle man, but recycle, TO THE MAX!” He might look a little like this fruitcake.

I hate stupid slogans, and I’m not fond of thinking about all the money that is more than likely made by these unscrupulous marketing majors who apparently procrastinate in the real world as much as they did in college, but instead of getting C’s, get paid thousands of dollars for sub standard work. That or they are clueless, and I should pity them. I suppose a third option is more psychological, after all, I’m sitting here repeating their slogan on the internet and in my head, so I guess it’s score one for the ad agency. Sign me up.

"I'm your dream, make you real
I'm your eyes when you must steal
I'm your pain when you can't feel
sad but true

I'm your truth, telling lies
I'm your reasoned alibis
I'm inside open your eyes
I'm you." - Sad But True, Metallica

How can I live divided like this? Every thought is countered and contested, I have no peace. I’m always having to explain myself to some imaginary me. My emotions take words, and they speak the desires of my heart, the ones I keep inside, the ones I try to hide, even from myself. When will I find rest?

I spent the trip back from Longview with the stereo off, something I’ve never done before. I enjoy staying busy, and thinking about things, but when I’m alone, I often feel the need to chase my own voice out with music. That night I let the voice speak, and we talked for several hours. There was so much to discuss.

Right now I’m listening to the heaviest music possible, trying to quell the upsurge of emotion that seeks to overwhelm me. There’s a lump sitting in my throat that argues with my reason. My emotions bring up some very good points, but they just don’t understand how things simply have to be. My emotions are just too idealistic, won’t listen to reality. Maybe some day they'll learn.

So here I go, I’m going to get some rest, read a book, try to chase the thoughts away. Really, everything’s fine, I’m just going to lie down, and I’m really calm. I'm so content, and I've already moved on.

I need a cigarette, because I’m out, but only to think of things best left alone. I’m a masochist, I must be, because I’m out the door to buy some more. Maybe you understand what I mean. There's no deceiving yourself, not for me at least. This is going to be a while.

My weekend? Zero to sixty my friend, in a heartbeat.
So much, and so little.
Anticipation, expectation, solemn realization
It was intoxicating
It was also very sobering

There should be no disappointment
I got to see her smile, hear her laugh
And with the greatest gentleness I’ve ever known
I felt her return to me my heart, unbroken
My desire no longer for her, now for her happiness
Things aren’t the way I’d hoped they’d be
Perhaps this way is best
The world is brighter now, and warmer too
My life was changed by meeting you.

More life was lived in these last few days
Than many months now past
My heart still races, and my mind retraces
How this weekend went, so fast.

"If you could only have seen yourself tonight out there in the moonlight…
You might then have understood why I was so speechless. I was breathless."

I’m in Longview now, and thank you God, I’ve been waiting for what seems like forever. I spent some quality time waiting for a freight train, eyes closed, savoring the night air, air so full of all that has happened. A lingering scent.., so intoxicating. And now I’m sitting in front of C4’s locked front door, typing away merrily, as content as I’ve ever been.

This place feels like a memory once again, just like when you come back after the summer break, and you feel like you’d started a new life, but you’re back home now, the home you wanted to leave. I wanted to leave. Irony is passionate desire to be where you’ve spent 4 years trying to get away from. I’m sure God’s laughing, and tonight I’m laughing with Him.

Things I enjoy about being male:

1. Topless-ness is not grounds for imprisonment
2. If you have romantic inclinations, you can pursue without social stigma
3. Nobody has ever asked if I had a girl in the car to assure my safety late at night
4. Facial hair or no facial hair, it’s your choice
5. If you’re feeling lazy, you don’t have to read non-verbal communication, you’re not supposed to be able to anyway
6. If you want to dress nicely, that’s fine, but not required

Things I’m not so fond of:

1. Speeding tickets, you know what I mean
2. When they cry, you have no options
3. When you cry, you’re a puss, at least in most people’s eyes
4. You can’t say you love your friends unless you’re drunk
5. You really aren’t as good at reading their emotions as you’d like to think
6. Nobody wants to see you naked, so if you streak, you’d better run

The thing about this whole romantic entanglements thing is that neither of us really ever seem to know what’s going on, or even what should be going on. Even the most confidant guys I know, guys who really should be able to just relax because they know the girl is going to fall for them, don’t. They’re actually self-conscious and nervous just like I am, maybe even more so. Perhaps their identity has become so connected with being accepted and desired that a rejection becomes even more devastating. I’m used to it, I’m familiar with moving on.

In all of the wonderful freedom that our current society provides, with so many varied ways of relating between men and women, there comes a paralysis when you realize that you have no idea what you’re “supposed” to be doing or feeling. Most of us, men and women alike, deep down fear being alone. We don’t want to be stuck going to the cinema with our parents on Sunday afternoon because there’s nothing else in our lives. But what are you going to do about it?

I seriously doubt I’m the only guy who can’t for sure say whether he wants the white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and wife who stays home, or rather the art school girlfriend who paints his clothes because, “They needed more white.” You may even be struggling to decide whether you want to be with the all black wearing girl who writes poems about dying, or the business suit wearing corporate executive. Or are these women, in some deep part of their souls, truly all women? Are we, somewhere between engineers, construction workers, and football players, truly all men?

Do we desire the same thing? What’s compatible supposed to even mean?

Are you supposed to start out with a crush? Start out as good friends? If you were to marry someone without seeing them first, would you be able to love them? Would you both have been happier with someone more, “compatible?” (Before I forget, at this point Sabrina has just made it clear to me that she knows more about human nature than should be allowed for a human. Go to her with any questions you might have.)
And what about games? Is it possible to avoid them, are they necessary, should I be enjoying them? I feel tired of playing games, I just feel like being open and honest, telling things like they are most of the time. I’d like to take her in my arms and tell her outright that I hope we can be happy together.

I don’t feel like pretending to like another girl so that she can be jealous. I don’t feel like not calling her for days on end to make her want me more, and worry that I’ve lost interest. Have I lost my mind, have I lost the whole point? I hope not. If so, maybe she’d be willing to lose her mind too, and maybe we could just be happy. 15 hours and counting.

Was I an idealist last week, or was that supposed to start today? I can’t remember if it’s my week for over-analyzing everything and planning all my life’s details or simply sitting back and enjoying without thinking. Rob (High Fidelity) rearranged his record collection in order of purchase to make his life seem more complicated. I spend hours analyzing my past and future and comparing it with what other people have done, and what they plan on doing, and what they’ll think of my choices. I guess it was a stupid question, I always overanalyze. At least some answers will come on Thursday.

I’m drinking straight from the carton of Welch’s Passion Fruit I bought tonight after I missed the stupid midnight cutoff again for alcohol. The kids in front of me looked like they were in high school, but they got their beer in time. It’s all good, I finished my programming assignment tonight and got to talk with Brian Lee. He’s actually taking some steps to setting up those coffee shops we always talked about. Maybe I should just move out to Colorado and work the night shift, I could ski, and we could get back to our debates, perhaps where we left off.

I really haven’t thought a whole lot through in the past few days, maybe weeks, and I wonder if I’ve done wrongly. There are times that despite my best intentions to be organized and plan ahead, I find myself completely surprised by life. I’m really tired of trying to figure out things that seem meant not to be understood. I’ve found happiness, and while I’m always willing to talk abstractly about the futility of my own actions, even while in the midst of them, I’m really quite content just to be content. It’s nice, and it’s been a while since I’ve felt this way. Sorry, I'm tired, and I’ve noticed I tend to be more vague and distracted when I’m interested in a girl.

Running low on sleep, I’m restless. Tonight C4 and I spoke of life, its meaning, the reality of God, the importance of belief, and what we want to accomplish. I’m in the middle of a self analysis, trying to figure out what it is I want to be. I realized tonight that I don’t excel at anything, that I enjoy such a broad range of things in life that in no area am I proficient, or really seeking to become so. I’ve criticized the church for abandoning things like the arts. I say that Christians need to become a light by doing the things they do well. I’m a hypocrite.

One thing we discussed was Paul’s writing about things which are good versus things which are better. Marriage is good. Being single is better. Spiritual gifts are good, prophecy is better. The body is made up of many parts, and one should not look down upon the other. I don’t really understand how that meshes, but we discussed the possibility that there are many roles that must be played by members of the body of Christ, some of which are “better” in some senses, but all of which are still necessary.

Right now, and don’t read too much into this, I’m very tired and not thinking too clearly, I’m thinking that perhaps what I desire is, or should be, to be that part which God has in mind, and to excel in it. I may only be a foot and not an eye, but if I’m the best foot I can be, then there’s nothing better for me. In many ways this makes sense, I won’t preach like Billy Grahm, and in many ways that type of service is higher. Perhaps the ones who cultivate only cultivate a few, and the ones who reap may reap many. Perhaps some seeds just need more care. I don’t know. I'll want to erase this in the morning, but I never do. Sigh, ok, now I can sleep.

Oh a raving I did go. I believe I’m about to die, every muscle in my body is about to give up and desert me. The quasi rave club experience was awesome, C4 gets mad kudos for ‘dragging’ me to it. Bonner also receives extra credit for an assist.

There are many fun things about raves, but you have to be there I guess. Watching the people who paid 15 to sit and watch, while in addition not drinking. There’s also the first time rollers who are absolutely mesmerized by any glowing movement, or anything glowing that they think is moving. Cell phone junkies cupping hands over their ears to talk to only God knows who while in the middle of a dance floor. Sex crazed youth prowling for something to grind against, people gasping for air after vigorous dancing through paper wrapped tobacco.

There’s many sights to be seen, and there’s something cleansing and releasing about moving without thinking. You simply let go, listen, and go with whatever you feel. It felt like something out of a drug movie, but in a good way. I’ll probably go again, you should come with me. I’m going to go sleep for three hours and then wake people up to sell them alumni directories. Once again, feel free to cuss me out if it’s your house.

What is going on here? I’m obviously trapped in some lame episode of Twilight Zone that amounted to a brain fart in Serling’s head and was never shot. There’s no way I posted yesterday (actually, by the time I finished this post, it wasn't yesterday, but still...), and this week is taking forever. I think time slows down as I approach next Thursday. Anticipation is sweet, but after a while it’s hard to remember that, I'm ready to get out of here.

Also odd is the discovery of this Mark Lusby character, hi there. I grew up thinking nobody existed with a Lusby name that wasn’t related, but I’ve found out otherwise. If you check the www.lusby.org site, you’ll find Ed and Dee Lusby under the people section. That’s my dad’s brother. He went to the same school I did and dropped out after one semester. Not sure how you feel about your relatives, but I went to a family reunion and was severely scared. Probably scarred too. Part of the motivation for starting this blog was the fact that those two had a better presence on the web than I did. I'm doing my best to resolve that.

I’m a little upset tonight at these stupid laws justifying somebody’s messed up sense of morality. It’s midnight, I’m starting work on a programming assignment, and I wanted something to drink. I specifically wanted one of those new Smirnoff Triple Blacks, which are very good by the way. So good that there was only one 32 ounce bottle left (I know, trashy image, but I’m programming by myself, and I don’t have a problem with drinking what appears to be a 40, I was also going to drink while on the phone with an intoxicated friend, so it wasn’t quite drinking alone either, not that drinking alone is a problem in my mind or life.) and it was hidden behind like ten of the normal ices. By the time I got my bottle up to the register, I found that only those stupid self serve ones were open, and in the few precious seconds it took for me to figure out where the upc was to scan it, it was after midnight. Their clocks were also 4 minutes faster than mine.

The point is, who cares if I buy after midnight? I have enough alcohol in my trunk to kill a man, and it’s legal for me to drink after midnight, but I didn’t want hard alcohol. So what was the point of this stupid law? It indirectly kept me from drinking, but I still am able to, just not what I wanted. The point is not that I am really that upset about not drinking, the point is that it’s a stupid law, and stupid laws breed contempt for all law. Kinda like how the state trooper who enjoys giving tickets to people passing semis while doing 5 over the speed limit leave a bad taste in my mouth every time I see blue and red lights. I'm tired of arbitrary government bullshit. Every time I think about lawmakers and law enforcement in general, I get this image of my dog. She can't keep her nose out of other people's asses either.

I saw something today that also chipped away at my faith in the intelligence of the human race. There was this poster at UT Arlington with a bunch of students all staring at the camera looking righteous, and it said, “57% of UTA students drink 0, 1, or at the most 2 drinks at the parties they attend.” It even had this queer graphic that said, “Just the Facts.” Okay, what the Hell is that even supposed to do? So 43% of the students get tanked? Were they trying to get me not to drink excessively just because barely more than half of the other students don’t? For all I know, 57% of the other students at UTA are total nerds. I myself only drink about 2 drinks at any given time, and I don’t count them usually, but after seeing this poster, I felt the need to drain a fifth of whiskey. Why are so many of my reactions to life so childish?

Wow, that’s a lot of ranting. C4 comes up tomorrow, and I’ll move from ranting to raving. I’m going to try to avoid the alluring glow sticks on a recommendation from a friend, having been told they’re not quite as cool as they may appear. Speaking of Danielle, check out her blog if you don’t regularly (which you should). All I have to say is, I’m all about world peace. Do something for a good cause today, or maybe tonight. Just remember, it's about world peace folks, everybody wins. Also, if you don’t read Sabrina’s blog, and make sure to do so and read back a few to her post about CBB and licking his nose. Great writing.

I’m going to sleep, when I should be programming. I read, I write, and I’ll more than likely not see good report card results, but let me tell you something. I’m happy. I’m also counting the hours now, 160 left. I’m really looking forward to seeing you all, and stuff. If you have a moment, comment and leave me either a current food fetish or tongue related fantasy. If you don’t have either, do yourself a favor and develop one. My current food fetish is back to Louisiana Hot Sauce, and one of my tongue related fantasies involves licking her feet, especially her toes. Goodnight.