I took off my shoes yesterday and set them next to my desk with my socks lying on top. They’ve been sitting there since then.

Seeing them in the periphery of my vision, I’ve managed to convince myself that they are various other things, since I don’t really expect anything to be at that spot on the floor. At once point I thought there was a huge dead mouse lying right next to my feet. But of late, every time I notice my shoes out of the corner of my eye, my brain gives me an image of my dog, Gaila, lying asleep next to my desk. It’s a comforting, normal-seeming image, and the first few times I saw it I looked down as if preparing to reach down and pet her. Of course, she’s not there. Now that that image has occurred to me, it’s all I see.

It’s odd, because I don’t know that I miss Gaila. I think I miss the idea of Gaila.

A few days ago the guys in the chatroom were talking about their dogs. Sam has apparently had a dog like Misho–intelligent to the point of being a member of the family. Carver had a similar experience with his dog, who unfortunately had to be put to sleep recently. As everyone spoke about their dogs, I realized that I had never made that connection with mine.

I remember the day I picked her out. She was so tiny. I was wearing a tank top with a flannel shirt over it, so I buttoned the shirt and put her inside, carrying her around in the makeshift pouch. The name ‘Gaila’ came to me out of the blue; to this day I don’t know why I called her that. I had been considering ‘Leia’, but I thought the boys would make fun of me…plus I wasn’t sure I wanted to attach a Star Wars reference to my dog. I wanted her to have her own reference.

When we were finally able to take our dogs home, they lived in the basement for a long time, locked up in cages my dad built. Once they were potty-trained, they stayed in our rooms with us. We were trying to train them to walk with a leash, but we didn’t work with them much, and ultimately they never learned. I think AJ got Hairy to be a pretty obedient, intelligent dog, but I never felt that Gaila was anything out of the ordinary.

She was a fast dog. She loved to run and catch the ball, and 99% of the time she would beat her brothers to it. I once threw the ball for her so much that she almost passed out from heat and exhaustion. I was horrified that she had continued running despite her tiredness, that I had nearly run my dog to death. My parents said that Misho had been like that, too; he’d run until he couldn’t run anymore if you told him to.

I still wonder to this day whether or not I gave my dog brain damage, destroyed her chances of being that intelligent dog I wanted so much.

I made other mistakes with Gaila. One time, giving her a bath, I wrung out her ears to dry them. Why I thought this was a good idea, I don’t know. I think I busted up the cartilage, because her ears aren’t flat anymore. They look wrinkled.

The biggest regretful memory I have with Gaila is what happened when she lost her leg. Dan Yoder had been the one to let them outside that night. It was pitch black out and impossible to see. Due to some construction my parents were having done (I believe it was the retaining wall for leveling the yard), there was a pile of rebar lying in the backyard. Gaila ran right into a piece of rebar and shattered her right shoulder.

When she screamed that night, I should have gone to her. I didn’t. AJ went and got her and someone else ended up carrying her to the car to take her to the vet. The next day, when it was determined that her shoulder couldn’t be repaired, AJ and Mom were the ones who made the decision to remove her leg, as it would only be dangling there in the way. They took her in for the operation; I arrived with the family to get her when it was over.

She came walking out with a huge line of stitches on her shoulder, stumbling towards me. She seemed perplexed by the fact that nothing was holding her up on that side, and she looked like she was on the verge of falling with every step. At that moment I hated everything, but I especially hated myself…for not loving her more.

I think part of the reason I am not attached to Gaila as much as I try to convince myself I want to be is because I don’t want to be responsible. Because I know I am responsible for bad things that have happened to her already. I want her to be safe and well taken care of, and she is those things at home, with Mom. She is Mom’s dog now, and Mom watches over her better than I ever did. Mom knows Gaila’s eccentricities, like how she can’t have dog chews because she’ll swallow them whole and choke and vomit all over. Mom has been the one to love Gaila. I was never there for her, even when she slept in my room.

And so really it’s not that Gaila wasn’t good enough for me, as I used to think. It’s that I’m not good enough for her.

Sweet and sour exercise ennui

  • Small bowl of rice and sweet and sour chicken, left over from when we had Don and Suzanne over for dinner

I figure this is okay because it’s dinnertime. For me. Because I stay up late and get up in the afternoon.

I’ll need to get some more rice soon…I just ran out of the stuff I bought at the Korean market and the bit I had left over from the Japanese grocery in Kentucky. All I have now is a bag of long grain white rice that Sue gave me. It really doesn’t taste as good as the short grain Japanese brand rice, unfortunately :/

I was talking in the channel about how I need to start exercising. Sam says that walking isn’t enough, that tennis is okay, but that he recommends fencing. The first two I can do at my apartment complex for free…so maybe a combination of those?

Blah. The worst thing about exercise is how boring it is. I love how good I feel afterwards, but the whole monotony of it really gets to me.

Sweet and sour chicken = teh yum. I was just thinking that a sweet and sour chicken pizza would be faboo.

I am suddenly very depressed. I am pretty much double the weight I should be. I have no idea what to do about it. Or rather, I have ideas, but I have no follow-through. I don’t know what to do about that.

Gonna stop writing now.


I have eaten way too much.

Before we left, I had:

  • the rest of Sean’s french fries
  • the rest of Sean’s double quarter pounder with cheese

Then we went to Barney and Sue’s place for Paul’s party, where I consumed:

  • baked beans
  • black beans
  • pasta salad
  • “dirty” rice (rice mixed with meat)
  • most of a cheeseburger
  • one glass of sweet tea
  • one scoop of Neapolitan ice cream
  • one large slice of white cake with thick whipped topping

Right now, because I am freaking insane, I am drinking:

  • a can of Mountain Dew

If I keel over dead in the night, you’ll all know why.

I owe you all a story, a damn good one, but I really feel too ill to think clearly. I promise to come back and write something good. Maybe I’ll discuss the party, or maybe I’ll dredge up more childhood memories. I could talk about Noelle, maybe, and my trip to see her at Myrtle Beach. Unless I wrote about that already. I’m too fuzzy to remember now, and I don’t feel like checking.

I’m going to go lie down for a bit and let my food digest. I’ll be back later.

Categorized as Diary Tagged

It’s a marathon…

I’m about done with my

  • Slim-Fast

and I’m not really sure what I want to talk about. I guess another ramble is in order.

Paul just had his birthday the other day. Today we’re going over to his parents’ house for a little party. This means I don’t have to cook dinner. Whee!

I finished my Slim-Fast like half an hour ago and I’ve had this window open for longer than that, and I can’t think of anything to write. Instead, I’ve been reading stuff. I came across this interesting article during my bored procrastinations. Basically this is a group that will train you to run a marathon and then send you to where the marathon takes place–they cover virtually all costs as long as you have found enough pledges to meet their requirements. All the pledged money goes towards cancer research: specifically, leukemia and lymphoma. And you get to travel and get in shape. It sounds like a win-win-win situation to me :) I’m going to start seriously thinking about doing it.

I have never been fit enough to run a marathon. It would be really cool to be able to run. Even when I was in kung fu, the time during which I was in the best shape of my life, I couldn’t run even a mile. There’s just something about running. I could stand (or jump) around for two hours throwing kicks and punches, but sustained running always left me winded and nauseated with a horrible stitch in my side. Imagine being able to run a 26 mile marathon and not feel that way!

Standing on the periphery

Yes, that’s right, you caught me. I’m eating

  • a Klondike bar.

So sue me already! Sometimes you just need goodies…

Here is a special message for a dear friend of mine. You know who you are.

So I’ve been going through the PvP archives for the past few days, as you know, and it occurred to me that I read comics about video games without actually being a player of video games. Sure, I can beat King Koopa in the original Super Mario Bros. (after a multitude of tries), and sure, I indulge in PopCap‘s fantastic Dynomite quite a bit, but I am really no connoisseur (connoisseuse?) of games. Games in 3D intimidate me. I tried to play one of the Mario ones once, and I was totally confused by the shifting camera angle. Supposedly men are better at spatial thinking than women, so maybe I go into it with a handicap. Still, I’m sure I could learn, if I cared to practice. I just don’t care to.

I say that about so many things :>

Anyway, this whole standing on the periphery of a movement and watching it happen but not really participating thing is typical of my entire life, or at least of most of my relationships. I always feel like an outsider, like everyone else is getting things done and going places and I am just watching and trying my best to catch up. I have this wild desire to be cool and interesting and to have people remember me long after I’m gone. It’s really…annoying. I want people to be interested in me, therefore I feel that I must become interesting. I’m not interesting yet, obviously, because I’m not famous yet. Right?


I’m starting to like the design of my Xanga blog better than my main site design. It’s sort of annoying me. Then again, maybe it’s time for a change on my site. I do, after all, favor the color blue. We’ll see if I ever feel like actually changing it.

Speaking of web design, I still owe my mom a redesign of the business site, and I also should redo GP4‘s page and update the Macross 2051 homepage. I really haven’t felt in the mood to design a website in quite some time; otherwise, I would do something for Box of Bunnies, the new website for my local circle of friends. But meh.

I still feel like I’m hungry…like for a chicken sandwich o_o I guess technically I only had two meals today, but still, a sandwich? At this hour? Bleh.

This is a train! It counts!


  • String cheese

that yet isn’t string cheese. (It doesn’t pull off in strings. Being shaped like a log does not make you a string, it makes you a log. Dammit.) Oh, and I’m eating three of these monstrosities. They taste okay.

I wasted my anecdote earlier, because Sam told me I had cheated by not putting one in the post about dinner. I still maintain that that was in fact an anecdote…just a very short one whose core was “I read part of a book.” But regardless, because I posted another story to make him happy, I don’t have any left for this post, which sort of sucks because I have to write something.

I finally did manage to post for the Ghostriders. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. The actions were all organized and efficient, so they beat the hell out of the incoming Regults. Now they have to pick up Lynn Kaifun. hehehehehehe.

Sean asked me today if I wanted to finish up Pulp Fiction. I think maybe, now that I know exactly what’s going to happen (because he told me), it might not be so bad to watch the rest. I guess I was reacting to it the same way I react to most horror movies: the tension is just too much for me. I don’t know what the deal with that is. Does it mean that I couldn’t deal with a high-stress working environment? Or are those two things unrelated? (I think I could deal with high stress at work if I enjoyed my job, but who knows?)

Hey, it doesn’t have to be an anecdote…it can be a train of thought. This is a train…see? There are three cars. Four if you count this paragraph, and five if you count the meanderings about cheese. So there!

Categorized as Diary Tagged ,

Unfinished business

I’m ingesting again, so it’s time for another post. This time it’s

  • One Slim-Fast diet milkshake, made with 8 ounces of skim milk

Yeah, we’ll see how long this diet lasts…

In my dreams last night there were a series of very odd occurrences that all seemed to reflect “unfinished business” in my memories. They all merged together to form one cohesive story. (I wonder sometimes if our idea of a good story isn’t drawn directly from how our dreams are constructed. Then again, maybe my dreams follow a short story pattern because I’ve done a lot of reading…)

Two important things happened in the dream. They were important not necessarily for their specific nature, but for the feeling I had throughout. I was completely comfortable and happy, which was nonstandard for me in those situations.

The first situation was me having a job. I am not entirely sure what exactly the job was; it seemed to be something involving troubleshooting or data entry or somesuch. The dream took place after hours or during a break or something, and now that I think about it, the setting was a hospital, right outside the cancer ward. I remember reading the name of the ward (it was named after someone): it was like the Vola or Zola or Zula Cancer Center, or something like that. In any case, I don’t know if my actual job was at the hospital or not, but for some reason I was hanging out there and meeting up with people. As this happened I spoke about my job and realized that I was happy with it, even though it didn’t really utilize either of my degrees. This gave me a profound feeling of comfort.

The second thing was the people I was meeting with. They were all figures from my past, people I don’t see anymore. They may have all been high school friends, but I’m not sure because I only remember two of them clearly: Audra J. and Isaac P. Audra was speaking to me in a friendly way about something silly, and while this was happening I did not feel awkward or as if I had nothing to say or as if I wanted to run and hide. I felt serene, at peace. I was having fun. This does not match up with my memories from high school, in which I never felt that I belonged. I still have trouble with this even now. A quick anecdote from a recent get-together can illustrate this.

Sean and I had had some people over to watch anime and eat Japanese food. It was really fun. Afterwards we all went to the local putt-putt golf place to play arcade games. At one point everyone was standing in a circle talking. I realized all of a sudden that the guys were shifting around to make sure I was part of the circle instead of standing in a flanking position to someone who was in the circle. So I tried standing in the circle, realizing that I don’t normally do that, and it felt infinitely weird. Sure, it felt like I was important and a part of the group, but it also felt like I should somehow prove my right to that position. I felt uncomfortable and just stood there not saying anything.

It was a lot worse than that in high school. That’s why not feeling awkward around Audra–a popular, bubbly, friendly girl of the “smart kids” group that I wanted so desperately to be considered a part of–is so odd. Essentially, I never feel that I am worth talking to or that I have anything interesting to say when I’m face-to-face with another person. Online, though, I feel clever and witty and fun…so in the dream, I was essentially experiencing how I usually feel online in a “real life” scenario. It was neat.

The other person I remember clearly speaking with is Isaac. This is a guy who I knew since sixth grade. He and his friend Ryan L. seemed to get no end of amusement out of tormenting me and my friend Noelle. I remember at least one instance of me running out of the English classroom and going to cry in the bathroom, despite my overwhelming goody-goody instincts that leaving the classroom during class was bad. My perception of whatever they had done to me must have been extreme.

Time sort of adds a buffer to memories like that, and so I can’t really remember what it was that they did that was so horrible. I can remember their mocking, laughing faces, and how wildly I hated them and just wished they would go away forever, but I have no idea why I felt those feelings.

In any case, Isaac and Ryan diminished in my life during the beginning of high school, and by the time I encountered them again they had somehow become charming, attractive, polite young men. The same thing happened to the guy who used to torment me and my friend Johnnie in fourth grade, Jared B. Suddenly, I no longer had a reason to hate any of them. In fact, all of them seemed like guys I would want to go out with. But the history between us made everything feel so weird. I never became friends with any of them, and instead sort of gazed on them from afar, wondering how it was that they had gotten “cool” while I was still the same person I’d been back in middle school. (Except fatter.)

I never could relate to any of them. My distancing myself from everyone in middle school due to beliefs that I was somehow better, and then my distancing from everyone due to beliefs that I was no more than dust at their feet, had conspired to give me zero real friends. I was the wannabe outsider, in class with all of them but never feeling that I belonged. I wanted to feel that I belonged, but I didn’t know how. By the time I started trying to just be friendly and sociable, it was my senior year, and everyone had already forged friendships. No one was interested in new ones because we were all graduating. I asked Jared to go to the prom with me and he said, “Umm, well, I wasn’t actually going to go.” I ended up going with a freshman who was a friend of AJ’s girlfriend at the time. It sucked.

It’s interesting to me, then, that Isaac appeared in this dream. I sat down at a table with a bunch of those kids from school, all grown up, and he happened to be next to me. (In other words, I didn’t sit down obsessing over the fact that I was sitting down next to Isaac P., which is yet another difference.) I just sat there and enjoyed the company and talked and laughed. It was amazing.

At one point Isaac wrapped his arm around my shoulders. For awhile I didn’t say anything, and finally I looked over at him and said “Did you put your arm around me?”

He grinned with embarrassment. “Uh, yeah,” he said, pulling his arm away. “You smell good.”

I blushed, wrapped my arm around his shoulders, and said, “Oh. Thank you.” Then he put his arm back around me and we continued to sit like that. It occurred to me later to wonder if he’d seen my wedding rings.

So yeah…weird, huh?

I don’t know if this means I have unresolved issues with my high school experience (probably) or if my subconscious is just telling me to lighten up (another good possibility).

"The Plan"; plus, what is friendship?

There are two problems in my life that I think about often. The first is that I overeat. The second is that I don’t write enough. Not anything serious, anyway–the AMRN isn’t going to bring me revenue anytime soon. As I was in the shower just now, thinking about these problems, an idea occurred to me that is uniquely suited to my particular situation.

I have decided that from now on, whenever I eat anything, I will post to this blog. I will include in my post what I ate, and I will also write some anecdote or train of thought. I figure this is as brilliant a solution as I have ever come up with. I imagine that most days I will be too embarrassed to admit eating four scoops of ice cream and a Klondike bar and two hotdogs…knowing that I will have to post what I’m eating for all the world to see will be a great deterrent. Plus, since I’m weak and will probably end up eating regularly–and three times a day at least anyway–this ensures that I will post more frequently to my blog, which will help me get the creative juices flowing. God, what a horrible, cliched metaphor. If I wrote more often, maybe I wouldn’t keep using them :>

So, that’s the plan. We’ll see how it holds up!


Today, I got up at around 2 pm. So far I have consumed:

  • One glass of sugarless raspberry juice (from a mix)
  • One bowl (probably a cup and a half) of Crunch Berries cereal with probably a cup and a half of whole milk

Not too bad a start for the day, but we’ll see how things go. With the way I snack, I may be posting here a zillion times a day…


And now, for the required writing.

I was thinking in the shower about the phrase “squeaky clean”. I learned that being squeaky clean is actually bad from a water tester who went over to J and R’s old house while I was visiting them. He claimed that if you or your dishes or whatever else squeaked after being cleaned, then the soap wasn’t all gone, and that the water therefore needed treatment. This was interesting to hear, but as I’ve never had the experience of not getting all the soap off, it wasn’t vitally necessary to my life.

What did interest me at the time, and still does to this day, was the fact that J invited me over knowing that a guy was coming to do a sales pitch. This seems extraordinarily odd to me. When J invited me over she said something like “We have a guy coming over to talk about our water, but it shouldn’t take long,” or something to that effect. I shrugged and went over there, thinking it wasn’t a big deal. But during the presentation I really felt like I didn’t belong; it was something more for the household, not me. It made me wonder why J  would even think to have someone over during that time…I can’t imagine inviting someone over to watch me talk with the insurance agent, for example.

But J has always been a little strange. I don’t know if she still is, because she lives in Boston and she and I have only communicated through email a handful of times in the last two years or so. But back when we were younger and hanging out together, things were really bizarre…only I was so insecure with my own personality that I didn’t recognize her behavior as odd.

It started the day she asked me to be her best friend. Before that time I simply considered her a good friend; she and K were best friends and had been for years. But apparently she and K had had a falling out, and now J was looking for a replacement. I was ecstatic to be chosen and said yes, thus beginning a friendship that has seen more ups and downs than an elevator. Or something.

One time J came over to my house for a swimming party and immediately asked if she could shave her legs, since she hadn’t done so at home. We let her, but my mother still mentions that and how weird it was. I told J about it some years later and she said she had never done it.

Another time we were having some guys install a new sliding glass door on our deck, and J immediately began talking to them and buddying up with them instead of doing what she was there to do, which was hang out with me. This made me feel weird for two reasons. First, I felt that I was being ignored. Second, I had this impression that you aren’t supposed to engage workers in conversation while they’re on the job. They weren’t there as guests…they were there to install a door. We didn’t know them; there was no reason to form a friendship. I wonder sometimes if this impression is classist or rude, but really, if you’re paying someone by the hour, it’s against your best interest to waste their work time with chatter. I believe J later denied having done this as well.

Then there was the time we took J to the Bluegrass Fair. This was something fun that we did every year as kids; it was a way for us to get out of the house and enjoy something special. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but Mom made sure to see to it that our lives were enriched in as many ways as she could. This was simply one of the fun things she did with us. I was old enough to realize that going to the fair was a special family experience, and I was excited to share that experience with my “best friend”. But once we were inside, J wanted to ride a big roller coaster-type thing that spun in a big circle, and I was too afraid to go on it. She went alone, and befriended the girl she ended up sitting next to. When the two of them got off the ride, J told me that she and the girl were going to go ride some more rides together. So in essence, she dumped me, the person who had brought her, in favor of someone who was more fun.

I guess in some ways I am a stick in the mud, but I don’t know…if you truly consider someone your best friend, do you treat them like that?

Weird stuff like that continued through high school. After we graduated, I went to the University of Alabama in Huntsville, and J went to the University of Louisville. There, she met R, an electrical engineering masters candidate from Pakistan. The two of them were married in January of 1997, mere months after they met.

J did not tell me she was getting married nor ask me to come to her wedding. She explained later that she was afraid all her friends would try to talk her out of it, so she didn’t tell anyone but her immediate family. I told her I understood, but I really didn’t. A true friend would be supportive…and if she really believed she was doing the right thing, no one should be able to just talk her out of it, anyway. This perturbed me, but I tried to get my head around it.

After my first year at UAH, I dropped out. Mechanical engineering was simply not for me. I piddled about at a sucky job for awhile, and then I got cancer. While I was in the hospital, J and R drove down from Louisville to visit me.

I had met R previously. Chris, my boyfriend at the time, and I had gone back to Kentucky during one of the school breaks, and one day we drove up to Louisville to see J and R. I had decided that while R was awkward in some ways, I liked him. J really liked Chris–the guy was into drama and performed loudly in the middle of the park, much to her delight. I, on the other hand, was horribly embarrassed. I wasn’t impressed by his acting and I wanted him to stop making a scene. This should have been a clue to me, I think…but oh well.

In any case, their visit to me in the hospital was short, but much appreciated. It was a wonderful thing for them to do. It was the middle of the school year, after all, and they had to work hard. R was about to get his masters, and J was still working on her degree as well. This is a good memory that I have of J.

After I got well, I enrolled at the University of Kentucky. R had his degree and had gotten a job in Harrodsburg; they bought a house in Nicholasville and J enrolled at UK too. I thought this was great because we were finally close to each other again. I spent a lot of time at their place, studying or watching Indian movies with them or eating dinner or whatever.

J always seemed to make friends with people easily. Looking back on it, though, I’m not sure that “friends” is the proper word. I’m not sure what is though. Her next door neighbor at the house in Nicholasville was a young lesbian who had a troublesome home life. She came over and hung out with us a fair amount, and she and J got along great, but I just felt weird around her. Part of it, I’m sure, was my own fledgling feelings of same-sex attraction…I had actually been attracted to J herself since our sophomore year of high school. But I don’t think that was all. I think the girl just struck me as off, as someone I did not want to be around. My mom has that sort of intuition too, and it has served her well, so I don’t try to ignore those feelings. The main point of all this is that J had no problems befriending practically anyone; she would go into their houses immediately, invite them over to mingle with other friends, and basically let people into her life indiscriminately. Sometimes she would complain to me about people she was friends with who were doing mean things or things she didn’t approve of. This caused me to wonder why exactly she remained friends with them.

At around this time, my relationship with Sean was developing. Sean was–and still is–a very opinionated man, and he sees no reason for people to waste their time on those who are hurtful or uninteresting or anything else that precludes a good time. He actually told me that J was no good for me, that she was using me as an emotional crutch and that I meant nothing to her. I refused to believe him, but the core of his philosophy began to take a deep root in me. Why, after all, should a person feel they have to befriend everyone? You can love everyone in the world without having to put up with their shit every day. I think this branching of opinions was what heralded the beginning of the end of my friendship with J.

One day while she was rushing down the hallway in her home, J brushed up against the corner of her hallway wall and fell, twisting her foot and then sitting on it. This broke her leg down near the ankle and she was bedridden for a week or two, then on crutches. She did her classes correspondence then, I believe, and was essentially unable to go around and enjoy herself. During that time, I only visited her once. While I was there, her mother was also there, and something happened that made me feel really weird. J was whining about how much pain she was in and how horrible her situation was, and she told her mother something like “Well, I wish someone would clean that bathroom.” That wasn’t exactly what she said, but whatever it was, it was an obvious guilt trip. “I’m bedridden and I can’t do anything…why won’t people help me?”

Her mother went and immediately started cleaning. I was thoroughly disgusted by the entire affair. Yes, people can do nice things for people who are sick or injured…but being sick or injured doesn’t give a person the right to make demands like that. I thought back to how I was in the hospital: I tried not to make my visitors feel unwelcome or like they had to do anything for me. It wasn’t their fault I had cancer, and it was good of them to visit at all. I felt that treating them with respect was only polite. Because of the obvious clash in our outlooks on how sick or injured people are to comport themselves, I never went back.

Weeks, maybe months later, J and I got into an argument. I could check my AIM logs to see what it was about–yes, it occurred on AIM; isn’t that ridiculous?–but I don’t really want to. Suffice it to say that she brought up the bit about my not visiting her more than once when her leg was broken. I told her how disagreeable she was being and why that made me not want to come, and she said that that shouldn’t matter, that a true friend would have come anyway, and that she, after all, had visited me all the way from Louisville when I was in the hospital. I replied that a broken leg was hardly the same thing as cancer…to which she spat at me that I was always bringing that up and making myself out to be a victim, and that I had no right to do so.

Our conversation ended with J telling me she hoped I rotted in hell because I was a horrible sinner and a horrible person, and then she told me that it was probably good that this happened because she and R were moving to Boston the following week. She was moving, and she hadn’t even said a word of it to me until that very minute.

I haven’t seen her since, and as I mentioned above, we have only emailed one another a few times. Once she wrote to me to say she hoped I had given up my sinful ways, and that she was sorry for wishing those horrible things on me. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so I wrote back to congratulate her on her new baby, M, who I had learned of through J’s sister L. J replied with questions about my own life, questions that I didn’t want to answer because I had not given up my “sinful ways”, the things she had listed in the first email, and I didn’t want to be lectured about it.

I didn’t answer her message for an entire year.

Then one day I noticed it still sitting in my Inbox, where I leave messages that I’ve yet to reply to, and I decided what the hell. I told her how I was engaged to Sean and how we would be married after I graduated, and I told her how AJ and Faye and Ben and my parents were doing, and I talked about some mutual friends of ours. She wrote back later and was friendly, so I wrote back in a friendly way too. Our correspondence has not been deep or meaningful, but at least it has been…amicable.

Since then J has had another baby. She and R are still living in Boston, as far as I know. J stated in her last message that she has carpal tunnel syndrome, so she can’t write any more letters. I have no idea if this is true or not. Maybe she just wanted to escape the distant familiarity of our exchange. I can’t blame her if that’s the case.

I wish we really had been best friends, but I don’t think we ever were. It’s a relationship I look back on with a great deal of regret. I wish I could think of something I could have done differently, but in the end I believe that we simply weren’t suited to have that level of a relationship. If we’d realized it sooner, we might have saved ourselves years of feelings of betrayal. But I guess people get comfortable and don’t want to change the status quo, even if they’re unhappy with it.

I hope J has a happy life, and that she finds herself a true friend.

The "motherly type"

You're a Motherly little Girlfriend
-Motherly- You’re the motherly type. You love to
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Yeah, at least I know I’ll be a good mom in the future! Gee, that thought brings me so much relief!!!!!!!


Sigh. Being unemployed gives me too much time to think about things. Sitting at my window this morning (my computer desk is right next to the window, with the monitor facing away at an angle so there’s no glare), I watched a young father and his toddler son romping around feeding the ducks. I want so desperately to have children that it’s not even funny.

I always hoped that after awhile the pain would go away…but instead of doing that, it just recedes into the background, ready to jump out again at any moment.

There was some British sitcom on the local PBS affiliate recently wherein an old, bitter woman revealed that she didn’t have any children because she couldn’t. The episode revolved around her living vicariously through a younger woman who was having a baby. Is that as close as I’ll ever get? As much as the episode tried to be positive and heartwarming, I couldn’t feel anything but depressed.


  1. Get out of bed. You’ll have more time to do things if you avoid the temptation to sleep until noon. Besides, you know once your husband gets home you won’t be able to accomplish anything.
  2. Take a shower. You’ll be a total slug until you’re clean and dressed. Sitting around in your nightgown with nappy hair all day doesn’t inspire you to do much.
  3. Don’t log onto any instant messaging programs. You’ll hate yourself if you do.
  4. Make a monthly schedule and a daily list. Whether in your head or on paper, a list will help you to keep yourself busy.
  5. Ignore me, because I don’t practice what I preach. The Kabalarians are right.

Originally posted on GP4. Woo…

I was stoked. I was in the zone. I was ready. My mind was working overtime, I was geared up, I was totally going to crank out some serious postage to lay on all yer asses.

Then my mom says, “Change the business website.”

I figure, oh, that’ll take me an hour or so, no biggie.

It took all freaking morning.

By the time I was done, I wanted to hurl my computer out the window. I puttered around online a little, ate something for the first time today, listened to Cowboy Bebop Blue three times over, chatted with Foreman and Reaper, and got absolutely nothing done.

So I decided I needed a break. I went to go watch Friends. It was funny! Yes! Maybe I felt good enough to post! Sat down again, but the TV was still on, so I watched a little of that Adam Sandler movie with the kid. It started to depress me, because the kid was so miserable and alone, and it sort of reminded me of those five minutes I caught of Law & Order, where the seven year old is telling how he killed his baby sister, in graphic detail.

So after that I was pretty depressed, not to mention disturbed. Cut off the movie, put in the Attack of the Clones soundtrack. Just sat and listened to it for awhile. Love theme good! Went out to ask my mom when she was going to make smoothies (I’d wanted one all day) and she and Dad were discussing (make that arguing about) a new business venture. I agreed with Mom, and tried to convince Dad, didn’t work. Gave up, came back here, complained to Shade about it.

Finally got a smoothie a few minutes ago…and it’s good. Listened to the love theme again. Now I’m just sort of staring at my monitor thinking “I am supposed to have a post up by now.”

But! It’s almost bedtime, and I want to be nice and energetic tomorrow because I’m driving an hour and a half into Louisville to look at wedding dresses. This could take hours, and I want it to be fun

And I’ve been thinking about writing, about how I really need to work on certain aspects, and how I really don’t feel like it. I’m so…lethargic. I could probably just go to bed right now. I’m still not really sure where my day went, other than the web design thing…

So anyway…

I’m not sure when the GP4 GenDis became my blog, but basically this is why there are no posts. I feel like a heel, but I have no inspiration. I know what I need to get done, and now it’s just a matter of churning it out.

My head hurts.

Time to ramble

This is my last week of school. Finals week is next week, but I have no finals, only papers. I should be able to get everything done fairly easily. What’s on my mind right now is the short story revision due tomorrow; I haven’t quite started on that yet ;> I had a group presentation today, and that seemed to go pretty well. Other than that, I don’t have anything pressing until next week. I think.

I do need to do some observations of a non-academic teaching English as a second language class…I’m not sure how I’m going to get that done. I went last week with Katie from TESL class, and that sort of went badly. She got really offended about the way the group proctors kept making derogatory jokes. They invoked stereotypes and things like that to get the foreign students to open up. I personally didn’t really see a problem with it; humor is usually the best way to break the ice in a situation. I thought it could have been pretty fun, but Katie was so adamant that it was stupid and degrading that I would have felt like a traitor to stay longer. Well, that, and they were going to a bar, and I’m not really a bar person.

So much of what we believe is based on perception. Katie believed that the students were offended by the proctors’ remarks, whereas I thought they either found them amusing, or didn’t quite understand yet. I definitely felt that an introduction to humor and slang was appropriate and useful for the students…they probably learn quite a bit about conversation from that group. I will have to talk a little about the experience tomorrow–we only stayed for about half an hour, so I hope I’m able to speak authoritatively on the subject somehow. I do think I’ll have at least a few things to say.

My short story, which doesn’t really have a title right now, is pretty good. I actually like it quite a bit, but it does need tweaking. I think I’ll hold off and put the “final version” (or at least, the final class version) on the website. People don’t really need to see the drafts. I may as well take “Mikey” down completely…I’m thoroughly disgusted with that story. It’s a load of crap :>

I seem to write the best stuff about Japan. At least lately. I suppose that’s what’s been on my mind, both subconsciously and consciously. I didn’t do a whole lot of writing about the experience while I was there, or even when I first got back. Things seem to come out better after a little time has gone by. The bad thing about that is that I can forget things…and my notes aren’t all that great :( I do know one thing, though: I love Japan and I want to live there someday.

I sometimes wish I had accomplished more in college. There are people who have done independent research projects, been active in clubs or Greek life, been activists, received scholarships and fellowships, and other things like that. Me, I just plug away at classes, then go home and do my own thing. There is a distinct lack of community there. Part of it is because I don’t live on campus, but even the year I did live on campus, back in Huntsville, I wasn’t extremely active. I was in one club, the American Society of Mechanical Engineers, mainly because I liked the people in the club and had fun hanging out with them. I helped organize stuff, and I even became the Treasurer for the club, but I wasn’t intensely active like other people. I had my own hobbies, and there were times where I would just withdraw into myself.

I’ve always been like that, I suppose. I’m not necessarily a loner, because I love talking to people…but I do like having my own time, too. I don’t mind going to restaurants and movies by myself. I would prefer to have some people to go to the ballet and opera with, but right now everybody’s so broke that I can’t go anyway. Sometimes I feel like I distance myself from people who are near me, developing close bonds only to people online. I guess the online people will always (in general) be around, but the people I know in person won’t. I’ll be moving to Georgia next year, and it seems useless to get attached.

But that is pretty cynical and depressing, too.

And it’s not like I don’t have friends here. I’ve actually gotten pretty close to a woman in my TESL and Semantics classes, Mary. She has a husband named Phillip, two daughters (Lisa and Rebecca) and a son named Don. The girls are out of the house, but Don is 13 and still in school. Mary, Phillip and Don moved to Lexington from Nashville; Mary’s a natural musician and writer. She’s fantastic, really. I went to her house today and had lunch (a taco salad without the shell); it was really good. She also hosted a party last week, which was a blast. I knew most of the people there, and I skunked them at pool :D

So I can’t really say that I’m totally out of the social arena. But there is a feeling of detachment. Often I’m more comfortable on my computer than I am in a group of people.

My most comfortable place, hands down, is with Sean. Whether it be online together, on the phone together, or in person, there is no place I’d rather be. I don’t know, it is just so strange to me sometimes, to have my heart swell up and fill my chest, and this silly smile come on my face. It’s like a definite knowledge, something that no one can take away. He is the man I love. I’m going to marry him and live with him and grow old with him. And this certainty doesn’t make me feel trapped…it’s exciting. Together, we can do anything.

And really, he is the most fantastic man I have ever met. Our relationship is amazing to me sometimes. We are so comfortable with each other that we tease each other mercilessly, but we also comprehend each other on such a deep level that we know when to stop. We support each other, but we respect each other. We know each other. And damned if I’ll ever find someone as uniquely intelligent and intuitive as him. I can tell him everything, even silly things, and he’ll only love me more. I just can’t believe it sometimes. I can’t believe what I’ve found. I, to be cliché, must be the luckiest girl in the world.

I hope everyone feels this way when they find true love :)


Just a little over two weeks ago, we had a freak hailstorm here in Kentucky…and now it’s eighty degrees (Fahrenheit) and all the trees and Remix flowers are in bloom. It’s amazing.

Sometimes I just have to marvel at weather. It’s cheap nfl jerseys incredible. Somehow, a multitude of varied forces all culminate–either working together or clashing–to bring us the environment that we take for granted. Not only that, but for the most part things are stable, at least here. Sure, you’ll get some wind…but other than that, the air is generally the same temperature as you walk along, and you can’t typically just step into a rainy area. That’s why, when you’re strolling through a moist spot and you hit one of those pockets of either hot or cold air, it’s so surprising. We’re accustomed 6.20.01 to a delicate balance that would be completely thrown off if, say, Luna were wholesale mlb jerseys closer, or our axis of rotation was just a few degrees off, or if we were a little closer to or further away from Sol. But no, asunto our exact positioning at this exact time has allowed life to with emerge.

It’s fantastic.

When I’m not thinking about meteorology :>, I’m typically thinking about…something else. It’s the end of the semester, and I have a stack of papers due as usual. I also have quite a bit of work to do for the good ol’ AMRN, which is nothing new. I need to post, and I need to edit some content. It’ll get done, just not as quickly as I’d like.

I find myself actually looking forward to Episode II, even if its name leaves cheap nfl jerseys the entire universe and then some to be desired. The trailers look good, and the Ain’t It Cool article managed to get me very, very psyched. I’ve tried to tone Ryokou it down, though, Episode I being the Large) massive disappointment that it was. Nothing will cheap mlb jerseys ever equal the original Holy Trilogy, not by a long shot. As long as I keep that in cheap nfl jerseys mind, I’m sure I can enjoy *cringe* Attack of the Clones as what it is likely to be: just another action/scifi vélemények movie.

I wish Ewan would have kept his hair short, though. The mullet he’s sporting as Obi-Wan is just wrong.