A blog entry from 1994.

The first of my old diary entries is up. This one is from when I was 15 (I would turn 16 in two months) and a sophomore in high school.

I had a little trouble with Blogger…first of all, I don’t like any of their new templates. I’ll have to design a new one myself (I’d rather not use the same one I use over here, though the new design might have echoes of this one). Second, I can’t set the post date back further than 1999. I was hoping to be able to set them to the exact dates that my diary entries were originally written. I’ve emailed Blogger support to request that feature…we’ll see.

In the meantime, I’ll have plenty to do getting this site compliant with all the new features (including the integrated comments) and designing a new template!

As far as the post itself goes…it’s fairly representative of my writing back then. I tended to ramble and obsess over potential and nonexistent love interests. My prose wasn’t very tight back then, but I’m not particularly embarrassed by it. Like everything else, my writing has evolved over the years.

The fact that MP was interested in me was something that fascinated me at the time. He was very good looking, and had a sort of tragic air about him that teenage girls flock to. His life wasn’t the best, and one time in a fit of angst he threw himself out in front of a car. As far as I know, he was uninjured.

Basically, he was the type of guy that a girl just wanted to mother.

After almost-but-not-quite having sex with J (I’m not actually sure what happened, since my memory of what was said is warped by my primitive understanding of sex at that time)*, P moved on to her friend…A I think was her name. He quickly got her pregnant, and they got married and moved to Florida. I developed the opinion that his goal the whole time had been to get someone, anyone, pregnant so he’d have a reason to move out of his mother’s house. But who knows, really? I think that opinion was at least partially affected by my feelings of resentment at having been so easily passed on.

You’ll see more of P in later entries.

Also featuring in this post is DF. You’ll see this name often in my high school posts. D was, essentially, my dream guy. As I told my discussion group at GSP (a memory I now cringe at), “I even love the warts on his hands.” *cringe!* (Emotions evolve too, but yeesh.)

Complicating this matter was the fact that J liked D too. I think it was just my lot in life back then to like the same guys as my friends. It ultimately didn’t matter, though, because he was completely uninterested in either of us.

For those who are curious, D is now an actor on Star Trek: Enterprise. No, seriously. Apparently back in February, his role was expanded. Now his character even has a name! :>

He still doesn’t have an entry on the IMDb, nor is he listed on the Enterprise page on startrek.com. To be honest, I’ve actually never seen him on Enterprise (since I don’t watch it). An elaborate hoax by the Jessamine Journal?!

Maybe I should download that episode in which he supposedly features…it’s this one, as far as I can tell.

* Update 2005/03/12: I’m not in the habit of censoring things that have already been published. That goes against my personal ethics. I am not a revisionist; I want people reading this journal to see nothing but the truth of who I am and who I have been throughout my life. What I wrote in this post was what I knew and how I felt at the time, and so it will remain. But as the Internet is permanent, and people will see this post later and not otherwise know that my knowledge has changed, here is an addendum, for what it’s worth: J did not have sex with MP.

Categorized as Diary Tagged

March 21, 1994, 9:20pm (15 years old)

“When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.”

I am not a man.

Therefore, I still cling to a few of the precepts I clung to in my youth. For example,

“When you wish upon a star,

“Makes no difference who you are;

“Anything your heart desires

“Will come to you.”

I have been thinking about wishing on stars lately. I used to wish on a star when I was a kid. I would wish that me and my brothers could turn into cartoon characters and live in a parallel universe whenever we wanted to. Guess what? It never happened.

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Like guys. Especially MP.

It’s weird, but we never seem to like each other at the same time. He liked me in Middle School, I like him when I was a freshman, he liked me at the beginning of this year but then started liking J. I kind of like him now. The trouble is, he still likes J. Says he loves her.

He called me yesterday to talk, and we were on the phone for over an hour. I don’t know how long really. But we talked a lot. I’ve never had a guy call me before, and so it was kind of interesting. I take that back…M called me a couple of times when we were going out (back when I was young and silly), but we never had anything to talk about.

Anyway, P and I had a lot to say, and so we talked forever. I talked about DF, and how I’m getting over him, and he talked about the pain he’s experiencing now with J.

You see, J broke up with him. She said they were becoming “co-dependent”. Isn’t that what a relationship is? But anyway, J seems to be scared off by anything that she enjoys. I don’t understand that about her. Why can’t she just pray about it and find her answers?

She wasn’t at school today, or last Friday, so I called her house and asked her mom to have her call me back. I don’t know if she will or not, but I hope she will, because we need to talk. P was supposed to call me tonight, but I guess he never found the time.

I like this font, so I’ll stick with it.

Anyway, I’ll go into how I got over DF.

I’m still physically attracted to him, but I find no interest in him personally. That’s no problem, I’m physically attracted to several guys and it doesn’t mess me up. I still admire DF for his dedication to his workouts and stuff, and for how he’s in track and everything, but I really don’t like him much anymore. He makes crude jokes and acts like a jerk sometimes.

P informed me that he makes crude jokes a lot and I still talk to him. I guess my answer for that is that he likes me, and likes to talk to me, and that’s why I still talk to him. Besides, he’s getting better. But that still doesn’t explain DS. Who knows why I stopped liking him. But I did. Maybe it was the way he leapt into it. He shouldn’t have gone so fast. He also embarrassed me. That must be what it was. He should have taken it slow, and then I might have started liking him. But you see, he liked J this year and now he likes someone named Jennifer L (I think).

My mom’s a sweetie. She just brought me down a Diet Dr Pepper. I love them. The boys are watching “Strange Brew”. How annoying. I like the movie, but I don’t know how they can stand to watch it so often.

I wore a black dress today, and Stephen W comes up and says “Whose funeral is it?” I replied, “Yours.”

Anyway, I don’t like DF anymore. I’m not obsessed with impressing him, or showing him what an awesome person I am, or anything, so I think I’m over him. Wouldn’t it be funny if he started liking me now. Doubtful, but it would be ironic.

Mom’s breathing down my neck now. She wants me to get off the computer so SHE can use it. I just read those sentences to her and she made her little cute face, then decided to read a WinFax book. She’s trying to figure out how to talk over the terminal with Aunt Carol, who just got an IBM. They’ve been faxing each other stuff like crazy. Dad’s fax machine is awesome, by the way. I wonder if Noelle has a fax. We could send each other stuff for like 14 cents. That would be cool!

I feel kind of empty, not having a crush on anybody, and yet I feel free. I’m single, and glad to be! I think I’d like to get to know Noah K, because he seems like a nice guy, but he’s shy. But I still have these silly feelings about P. That’s not good, because if I somehow got him interested in me again, it would hurt J. Plus, I might get hurt in the process. So I’m going to stay away from that territory. It’s very strange that P liked me, because I never thought anyone would like me. But he did. I wonder if he ever will again.

My goal for my weight remains the same: to be able to wear biker shorts and a sports bra and look good. That would be so awesome. I would never wear them in public, but when I was working out I could and then I’d feel great. But it seems like I’ll never reach my goal. Today Mom came home with a lot of chips and some French onion dip (my favorite). I didn’t totally mess up, but I did enough damage to where I won’t be losing any more weight. Yuk.

Anyway. Enough about that. I think Mom’s going to be reading everything I write from now on. She’s silly.

Oh guess what! We are trying to fax Aunt Carol a little certificate that says: “Gift Certificate from the office of Dr. Jack Kevorkian, M.D. Good for one visit only.” Isn’t that hilarious? I love it! I want to copy it and give it to people. I should give one to DF, but he might get the wrong idea. I’ll give one to P. He’ll appreciate it.

Well, I think I’ll stop now, because I really don’t have much more to say. Until whenever I write again…



I’ve been pretty busy since getting home from Kentucky. Working full-time, regular daylight hours is a new experience for me, and I’m still adjusting. My past jobs have all been part time or shift work: at Wal-Mart (for the whole week and a half I worked there) I was doing a 2 to 11 pm shift; at Willis Music I worked different hours at varying points between 9 am and 6 pm; at GRW I worked 3 pm to midnight (due to going to school); and at the University of Kentucky night desk I worked either midnight to 4 am, 4 am to 8 am, or both. So yeah, I guess from that lineup I appear to be a night owl, and this new 8 am to 5 pm (soon to be 7 am to 4 pm) shift has me a little wonked. I’ve basically had to start going to bed at around 10 or 11 pm in order to get enough sleep, which precludes participating in many of the online chats I’ve come to love. I’m in bed before most of our AMRN people get online; either they’re out doing something else until the late evening, or they’re on the other side of the world, in which case they’re at work or just waking up when I’m going to bed.

This might be a good thing; sitting around chatting could be considered a waste of time, especially if I’m not accomplishing anything else in tandem. But I have always liked being available to my AMRN players and GMs, and it looks like that won’t be as possible anymore.

Regardless, this week hasn’t been extraordinarily restful. I got home on Monday night after 8 hours of driving, stayed up too late, and then got up early for work the next day. I’ve been trying to get more sleep since then, and it’s worked out all right, but I’ve had chores and errands to do after work that have made me feel as if I don’t have time to do anything. Normally I would catch up on the weekend, but I’m driving to Savannah on Saturday to see my aunt and cousin, so I have to get everything done before then, including get all the junk I brought home from Kentucky out of my car, and two loads of laundry. I guess those will be my chores for today after work, since I don’t have any other time to do them.

Yesterday I listened to a motivational CD by Earl Nightengale. It was fairly inspiring, but I’ve been left sort of befuddled. The main point was that people should pick goals and then work towards them in order to be successful. That has been a real problem for me in the past, and right now. What is my goal? I have a business idea, which I’ll not describe here lest someone steal it ;>, but I don’t know if that is my goal in life. Then again, I don’t know if the goals have to be permanent…I think maybe after you’ve accomplished one goal, you can come up with another one.

I guess my main problem with doing this sort of thing has been not wanting to give up on certain dreams in favor of other ones…and of course, fear of failure. Once I get past the first one and pick a goal, Nightengale suggests writing my goal down on a card and looking at it whenever I feel discouraged or fearful. I suppose that could work…so I just need to figure out what my goal is.

I was talking with AJ about it, and he suggested that I make a list of all my goals with two columns: REALLY WANT to do, and WOULD LIKE to do. Then, he said, I could prioritize the REALLY list in terms of feasibility. I don’t think Nightengale would approve of that second step; I’m supposed to believe that I can do anything. The first one, though, might be helpful.

I need to leave for work in about fifteen minutes, so I don’t want to start making my lists now. I’d like to give them some time and consideration. Sadly, I already know one of the things that’s going on my REALLY list: “be a mommy”.

My body shape has changed somewhat, so that my stomach seems to be sticking out more than it was before. This isn’t new; it’s been happening to me for months now. When I look at my profile, I tend to feel like I look pregnant. This has caused me to purchase pregnancy tests three times, “just to make sure”. Wednesday was one of those times, and seeing the negative result was depressing. Even though I know it’s impossible, I still have hope…and that hope invariably leads me to despair.

Working for Proactive Genetics doesn’t really help my emotional state. I do all the mailings for the company, and I’m in charge of the affiliate program, so it’s not like I can divorce myself from the idea of having children. It’s in my face on a daily basis. Every day, some lucky person with twins puts in an order for our zygosity test. I can’t even have one, but all these people have two. You can see how this would get disenheartening.

Still, I’m trying to stay positive. Maybe it’s possible. If it’s not, maybe I can adopt. Unfortunately, with all these maybes, it’s sort of hard to make goals! The only thing I know definitively is that Sean doesn’t want children right now. Sometimes I wonder if he ever will.

Maybe. :P

Pollen, and work

Spring is coming. We’re right on the cusp. I know because of the pressure in my sinuses and the beginnings of tears that are suddenly ever-present in my eyes. Yes, that’s right, folks…allergy season is here.

Last night I had a horrible migraine. I thought it was simply due to the work I’ve been doing on a new website for Macross 2051 (I’ve created a new layout and I’m translating it into the proper code for Mambo Content Management System), and though I did take some allergy medicine in the hopes that it would help, I didn’t really believe allergies were the prime suspect.

Today after work I noticed a light dusting of yellow powder on my car. So yeah. Allergies.

Augusta has one of the highest pollen concentrations in the world. Pollen forecast from the Weather Channel; pollen forecast from the makers of Zyrtec. ;> Whichever one you trust, we’ve got pollen, people. I’ve turned on the air conditioning in the hopes that it will help filter some of it out, but I’m getting the feeling that this sinus pressure will stick with me all week :(

In other news…

I haven’t been posting lately, but that’s not due to a lack of things to say. Either I’ve been busy doing something else or I’ve been too tired to write or, the case that happens a lot, I didn’t want to post because I’m going to redo this website in Mambo and I didn’t want to spend energy writing something that I would have to port over later. But heck, I’m going to be working on it for quite some time, so I may as well journal in the meantime. Life’s too short not to blog.

Yes, that was lame. Intentionally lame ;D

Today I talked with Robert about rearranging the office. He had my desk facing one of the sets of windows; I want to turn it to go along the wall to the left, so that I have a better view of the door and so as to open up more space in the center of the room. This will involve shifting some free-standing shelves around and sliding his desk and the mini fridge a few feet away, but it won’t be a big deal, and hopefully the result will make the office look nice and neat. We’ve had clients stop in and we look sort of unprofessional right now. As soon as the main area is laid out the way I want it, I’m going to work on the finer details of spiffifying the office. Should be fun; I like interior design.

I also mentioned to him that I’m going to want a week off sometime in the next two months, and I told him that I would work eight hour shifts the week before or after in order to make up my time. I then asked him when it would be convenient for him for me to go, since the new project will be starting this month. He said that two weeks after the project gets off the ground should be fine, so that means maybe the week of April 5. Of course, you all should know what I plan to do during that time…visit my family!

A week-long vacation to see them will probably be better than the trips I’ve been making, where I go for an undetermined amount of time and then end up getting too attached. One week should be fine. I felt better after the Christmas visit than I had for the other visits, and I really think it was a matter of planning how long the stay would be. I think not having a definite leave date puts me in the wrong mindset, especially towards the end of the visit.

Plus, now I have something to come back to besides housework! (Oh, and Sean, of course ;>)

Today was slower than usual at work, otherwise. I finally managed to scour some of the local magazines for restaurant leads. I also stocked up on printed materials (address labels, instructions, etc), and I affixed quite a few return address labels to bubble mailers. That puts me in good shape for tomorrow, when I have to mail packages.

I just remembered two things I forgot to do while I was at work. Bleh.

I’ll blame them on my sinuses…

Plans, plus a brief edit

[Edit, because I’m feeling too lazy to make a whole new post: I don’t even know what to say! What is there to believe in anymore, now that this has happened?!]

I don’t feel like going to the store. I imagine no one ever really feels like going to the store, and yet it must be done.

This week I’ve been settling into my new job as “business manager” (O_o) of 2go-Box. I am still very much learning the ropes. However, I must say that I am really enjoying the four-hour workday. I still have my free early afternoon hours to spend as I please, yet I am required to get up and move in the morning. It’s a winning combination! The only thing I’m unhappy about is my lack of time in the morning to go for a walk/exercise. I can’t set my alarm for 6 am because that would disturb Sean’s sleep. It’s best for me to get up when he does, at 7. Unfortunately, this means a mad rush, since I not only have to get up and take a shower and get dressed, but also tidy up, empty the dishwasher, make the bed, make breakfast, and make lunches if I didn’t do so the night before. There is no time–literally–for exercising. I’m thinking I might have to add it in after my work shift, but I’m not sure. We’ll see.

I am going to have to revise my daily routine, regardless. Some of the morning things are unnecessary (such as “hit the hotspots”–I don’t have any piles of stuff to clean up in the morning because I deal with them as they appear, and “start a load of laundry”, which I could technically do, but that would mean I would have to leave the dryer running while I was at work, which is not a good idea). I also need to put “tidy Sean’s bathroom” higher on the list so I don’t keep forgetting to do it.

I will then need an “after work” routine. I may abolish the “late afternoon routine” entirely in favor of this, or try to make both. It just depends on what fits best. Of course, my schedule might not stay as it is now, unfortunately :> My boss is anticipating many more hours for me once certain things that I can’t disclose get going with the business. Since it’s a restaurant service, it’s really best for me to work during lunch and dinner…but I really don’t want to do that. I like being home during the times Sean is home, so I can make dinner and spend time with him. I’m going to have to see how that shapes up. The later I get off work, the harder it’s going to be for me to make a good dinner every night :/

Anyway, today is Errand Day, and I really need to get over to Wal-Mart to grab our supplies for this week. I also need to stop in at Advance Auto Parts and replace some fuses in my aged Subaru. I better get on that before the after-work rush.

(Oh, and by the way, new color scheme on the LJ. I was trying to match this site, but it ended up looking even better. I need a new site design…)


One of the things FlyLady suggests doing in one’s Evening Routine is “Work on journal/’Ta-Da’ List”. I figured I’d do a smattering of both.

I haven’t written anything in the past few days, not for lack of desire but because I have been simply too busy during the day (either doing things on my to-do list, or thinking about how I should be doing things on my to-do list), and at night I have been exhausted. Thursday, Friday, yesterday, and today, I have gotten up at ~7 am in order to get ready and make Sean’s breakfast for him before he leaves for work. (He ate all the breakfasts except today’s, because he was running late this morning.) Since this is well before the time I would normally get up, it has taken some getting used to. Yesterday I got up at 4 am; muscle soreness was preventing me from sleeping any longer. Because of that I ended up taking an extraordinarily long nap in the afternoon. Still, I was able to make it to bed at a decent hour (around midnight or one, I guess) and then I got up this morning right on time. No naps today, though I did relax in the La-Z-Boy for a bit.

But I feel like I’m getting better! I feel like I’m actually doing something instead of just sitting around all day. I have started writing up brief to-do lists for myself, and accomplishing as many things as possible. Sometimes I’ve had to switch priorities; updates to the family business website have taken precedence over some old data entry tasks, and when my boss emailed me with a menu update today, I penciled that in and got it done right away. In fact, here is everything I accomplished today (the Ta-Da List!):

  1. Successfully followed morning routine (getting up/dressed/ready; cleaning; breakfast)
  2. Dropped off half a year’s worth of aluminum cans at the fire department as a donation to help burn victims (I have been meaning to get those cans out of our outdoor storage space for, well…a year. I’ll get the rest of them tomorrow–they wouldn’t all fit in my car!)
  3. Played tennis for approximately 30 minutes
  4. Watched two DVDs (8 episodes) of Martian Successor Nadesico (hey, I’ve been meaning to do that!)
  5. Fixed a problem on no-dog.com
  6. Updated a menu for 2go-Box
  7. Worked on some birthday club data entry for 2go-Box
  8. Made dinner and managed to keep the counters and sink clear and clean
  9. Ate dinner with Sean at the dining room table (I’ve been trying to do this more; for awhile we’ve just been eating at our computers ^^;;)
  10. Did dishes (dishwasher)

So yeah, I’m feeling pretty good! Tomorrow’s to-do list includes grocery shopping, taking the rest of the recycling over to the fire station, and working on more data entry. I may or may not add in AMRN stuff; it depends on how urgent I feel the matters are. There are a lot of little things in the back of my mind that are bugging me and that I want to get done…and with this system, I feel like I am slowly on my way to doing them. This is great :)

I’m also trying to make sure we take vitamins at breakfast…I think we could both stand to be more healthy.

Thursday and Friday, I got myself in the frame of mind to get up in the morning. I didn’t do it Saturday or Sunday, and Monday I totally slipped up–stayed up too late the night before. But Tuesday I was ready to get back on track, and so not only did I finish my morning routine, but when I took the garbage out I decided to take a fifteen minute walk for exercise.

It was a little chilly out, so after I’d made it most of the way around the apartment complex I decided to use the weight room’s treadmill instead. I obtained a key from the apartment manager, so now I can get in whenever I want, and then I finished up my fifteen minutes. My muscle soreness did end up increasing…but it felt great, really. It’s kind of sad that fifteen minutes of walking seems like a big accomplishment, but that’s just the point I’m at right now. I’m going to get better. I’m going to get awesome :>

I was going to take another walk today, but since Paul and I had previously decided to play tennis on Wednesday and Saturday, I figured that I should keep those appointments instead. It will throw a little variety into my routine, which is always welcome. So Wednesdays and Saturdays will be tennis, and the rest of the week will be walks.

After awhile building up my walking endurance, I’ll add more to my routine, such as the stair climber or the weight machines. I’m also going to start doing kung fu stretching. But it’s going to be incremental. I don’t want to burn myself out early and quit altogether.

I don’t know if I’ll lose any weight doing this, and to be honest that’s not my primary concern. I just want to know that if I needed to, I could run a long distance, or lift something heavy, or do strenuous activities without passing out. I also just want to feel better, and not be as tired as I usually am. Today I feel energized. That’s how I always want to feel :)

Eliminating my back pain would be a plus, but I don’t know if that’s even possible :>

Cory Doctorow’s new book is online, so you know I’ll be reading it. Kevin linked me to Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom awhile back and it was a fantastic read. I haven’t checked out Doctorow’s short stories yet, but I’m sure I’ll get to them. For now, though, Eastern Standard Tribe is on my short list, along with Master and Commander (I’m somewhere in Chapter Four–and yes, if I haven’t mentioned it, I’m reading it because the protagonist’s name is Aubrey) and The Time Traveler’s Wife, which I have yet to crack open.

With that list, I’m making it appear as though I am a voracious reader. However, I have had those two books since Christmas. :> I’d like to get back into my old reading habits, but it’s a struggle, especially since I spend so much time reading online. Online reading is not necessarily a bad thing, but I usually end up reading blogs and entertainment news (and occasionally real news, home and garden tutorials, and self-help articles). I am a websurfer extraordinaire, but I’m not sure if I’m getting enough meaningful input.

Well, that’s about it for me. I’m going to follow FlyLady’s advice for the evening routine and try taking a relaxing bath, and then I’ll putter around online until bedtime. A comfortable end to a lovely, productive day.

I can’t…

I can’t divorce myself from the need to succeed. I can’t sit down and write a book just for me.

Despair transmuted

Here I am at 6:30 am after staying up all night–as usual, with something of a nap to tide me over–trembling with euphoria, chest swelled, eyes smarting with unshed tears, because I actually worked hard at writing something.

I have had a pretty shitty night up until this point. The reason I went to take a nap was because I wanted to cry. Bawl, in truth. I was unable to do that; my sobs felt forced and pathetic as I lay wrapped in the covers, face buried in my pillow. But I did at least cry, and then fell off into restless, desperate sleep.

I am unsatisfied with my life and I am unsatisfied with the way I spend my days. I do not feel as if there is any purpose to anything I do. I want more, I want to stop feeling desperate. I want to be more than useful; I want to be thrilling, inspiring, necessary, adored. I want to Do Things that make people Sit Up and Take Notice. I believe I have fallen into despair because I can’t envision these things ever actually happening. I’m lost, jobless, a housewife who hates keeping house. I’m no good to anyone else and I’m no good to myself.

But I wrote something. Something I am outrageously proud of, something I revised until it flowed off my tongue with a rhythm that plows a clear path. I read it aloud, several times, and tweaked it far more than that. I worked on it, and it’s finished, and I can say that I am reasonably happy with it.

It’s only a post. But holy shit do I feel good about it.

I must have needed that.

Traditions under the moon

Today, Dawn wrote about the Chinese Mid Autumn Festival, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of my own childhood traditions. Fireworks on the Fourth of July were always a big thing, whether we set off our own in front of our house or drove up to Lexington to watch the big show from Doris’ farm, sprawled out in the back of a banged-up pickup truck. Dawn’s discussion of lanterns made me think of Woodhaven, where Granny and Aunt Carol used to live; they had strings of lights running along their trailer in the shape of Chinese lanterns, and I loved their bright colors lighting up the porch at night. I sat out there with my aunts and played board games, or watched over my baby cousins (who are now all teenagers!), or played house with the myriad collection of toys Granny kept in her outdoor tent in the yard. We rode bikes at Woodhaven, too, all around the narrow, winding roads. Woodhaven was a private retirement community, and there wasn’t much traffic. It was very rustic and peaceful there; it felt like a chosen, comfortable seclusion.

Summers are what I remember most from my childhood, because summer was always the time for adventures. Piling into the car to go to Uncle Lewis’ place on Lake Cumberland was one of my favorites, because we got to go swimming, climbing, picnicking, and exploring, and in the morning Uncle Lewis always made us his famous “greasy eggs”. I think I miss having his place to go to the most; I don’t have any real memories attached to Ma’s farm in Mt. Sterling, and there’s not much to do there. And of course, we always went to Illinois in the summer, whether to Woodhaven, or to Big Rock, or to Wilmette…but once my parents started the business, we weren’t able to all run off on jaunts anymore, and so the adventure chapter of my life was closed. I think maybe that’s why I didn’t mind driving eight hours to see Sean for a weekend…travel has been in my blood since I was little.

Christmas is another tradition I’ve had since childhood, but until we had the business it wasn’t a truly large affair for us. We typically went to Uncle Jeff and Aunt Karen’s house on Eastin Road in Lexington, a beautiful, large, stately house that I felt I could get lost in. Their tree was always splendid, with more gifts beneath it than I could count. Everyone brought food, and we all ate dinner and then exchanged presents. That tradition died off when people began realizing they couldn’t afford to buy presents for everyone, and now if we go anywhere it’s to Grandma’s for dinner, with no formal gift exchange. It’s nice, but it’s not the same. Our party at home is bigger and better, though, with lots of presents, and the little joy that is Connor running around brightening everything. This year, when Sean and I go to my parents’ for the holiday, there will be another little one to cuddle.

Traditions don’t really die; they just change. They’ve shaped who we are, and who we are shapes what we do.

Dawn also wrote today about how she finished up her festival day, a quiet, more muted celebration, tinged with melancholy. I know how it feels to be lonely on holidays. I think the song Dawn chose to quote at the end of her post was a wonderful choice, especially because it reminded me of something that happened yesterday.

Out of the blue, I decided to call Connor. I miss that little sweetie. We had a good conversation; he told me to come over to his house “tomorrow” but I said it would have to wait until Halloween. Then he asked me, “Can you see the moon?”

I went out on the deck and looked, and there it was, Mars hanging just below and to the right. “Wow,” I said, “it’s really orange, isn’t it?”

“Yeah!” Connor said. “And it has eyes and a nose and a mouth! But it doesn’t say anything.”

“The moon’s pretty quiet,” I agreed.

At that moment, I remembered the song, “Somewhere Out There”, from An American Tail…and so for me it was doubly delightful to have Dawn think of the same song for a completely different reason.

I miss everyone…but it is nice to think we’re sleeping underneath the same big sky.


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.

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!

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.

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 :)