Connor Reloaded

This is the sort of thing that happens when I get bored.

In case you're interested, this is the original picture.

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?

;P

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 No-Dog 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!

Ah,

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!

Romance in real life

I got sort of dressed up today. I figured that since I shaved my legs, I should wear a knee-length skirt. Logic is a key factor in all of my decisions, obviously. So I put on my favorite side-zip navy skirt, then my lighter blue polo-esque ribbed girl-sleeved shirt. By girl-sleeved I mean those short, tight sleeves like they have on baby tees, instead of real sleeves that actually cover most of your bicep. A lot of my shirts have the shorter sleeves, so either they're in style or I have just gravitated towards that.

Regardless, I looked pretty cute. I put in my contact lenses and some earrings with dangly blue hearts, then sprayed on some Ciara perfume...and went back into the office to sit on the computer some more.

I'd had an inkling that we were going out for sushi, but Sean was very involved with Asheron's Call 2, so I wasn't sure when it was going to happen. I puttered around online for awhile, but I didn't feel like posting or doing much of anything besides reading PvP. Paul popped up to ask if Sean and I wanted to go watch anime at his place after dinner. I glanced over to Sean and tried to get his attention three times. Finally I waved at him, a wide, exaggerated motion that made him roll his eyes, sigh, and take off his headphones. "What."

Don't you love it when people say "What" and it isn't a question? Me neither.

So I asked him if he wanted to go to Paul's, and he said he'd think about it and went back to his game.

This incident, combined with the rampant stupidity of a guy on the IRC channel, did nothing for my mood. I started getting a headache, and I could feel my stomach growling, but I wanted to wait for the sushi instead of grabbing some comfort food. I decided I couldn't handle being logged into any chat programs, so I shut them all down and left the office.

In the living room, I turned on the TV, discovered (surprise surprise) that there was absolutely nothing on that I wanted to watch (we really need cable), and then just lay down across the couch, trying to relax. While I was sprawled out and moping, Sean poked his head in to say that we would leave for sushi at 8, and that he didn't want to go to Paul's.

That gave me half an hour to burn. Bored, I glanced over my bookshelves until the Japanese Houses one caught my eye. I pulled it out and started reading. Fortunately, it really caught my interest, and I started to feel much better--if a bit wistful for Japan. At around 8 I went back into the office and logged back onto AIM briefly to tell Paul we wouldn't be coming. Then Sean said, "All right," and we both got up to leave. We kissed a little; I think he had finally detached himself from the game enough to notice what I was wearing. Either that or he just felt like kissing. It happens ;D

I stepped into my blue sandals and he grabbed his sunglasses and keys. We kissed some more. Moving towards the door, I said, "I take it you like my outfit."

Sean followed me out the front door. "Yes, very much," he said, and I smiled. He added, "I like you."

Needless to say, we kissed some more. "I like you, too," I said. Then we tromped down the stairs towards the car.

The aesthetics of serenity

Ah...dinner.

There is something about Japanese food that just feels right. It's light and not overpowering, yet it can make me feel completely satisfied. It's not a double quarter pounder with cheese...but after eating Japanese food, I feel that a double quarter pounder with cheese would be excessive to the point of nausea. No...give me my rice, my cutlets of fish--raw or otherwise, my green tea. That is the kind of food to eat if I plan on living for 100 years.

And I do, of course!

Before we left for the sushi place I was reading a book I picked up last year called The Japanese House. It's one of those beautiful oversized coffee table books that I adore, filled with gorgeous pictures and fascinating background information. I read about tatami mats, washi paper, shoji screens, and Japanese tea houses. I love the simple elegance of traditional Japanese style, in architecture, interior design, gardens...everything. It's really hard to describe the feeling it all gives me. I just feel comfortable and serene in a traditional Japanese setting. Of course, serenity was one of the main goals of the aesthetic design, passed down through Buddhism and filtering into the everyday culture, so perhaps the ease with which I adapt to it all is understandable.

In any case, after that light reading I went on to have a light dinner, consisting of:

3 "Augusta" rolls (crab, avocado, and cucumber--yum!)

6 unagi rolls (barbecued eel and cucumber)

1 "Philly" roll (cucumber, onion, Philadelphia Cream Cheese, and salmon--Sean loves them, but they're not for me I suppose)

1 piece of maguro nigiri (raw tuna--I could have eaten more of it, it was absolutely delicious)

3 pieces of unagi nigiri (that barbecued eel again--oh how I love it)

1.5 pieces of tamago (egg--asked for it without rice as we were getting full, but we couldn't finish it anyway. Too sweet and eggy I guess)

Two mugs of green tea--the weird kind, I recognize the taste but I can't remember what Todd said it was made of. (Todd, my instructor for the Japan trip in 2001, is something of a tea connoisseur.)

Ahhhhh, how deliciously satisfying. At the moment I am partaking of

Sugar-free raspberry juice

It's good stuff, light and refreshing and a nice end to a glorious repast.

Time to practice!!

I'm actually not eating right now, but I came across an old PvP strip that I found infinitely humorous, given the situation.

http://www.pvponline.com/archive.php3?archive=20011120

Cole and I would get along just fine.

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 Johns and Isaac Porter. 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 Johns--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 Porter. This is a guy who I knew since sixth grade. He and his friend Ryan Lawson 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 Bell. 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 Porter, 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).

Backfiring...

Yeah, so I'm having

One 12-ounce can of Mountain Dew

and

Another piece of pizza

What's it to ya?

I'm thinking this plan is sort of backfiring, at least in the "oh yeah, I'll be too embarrassed to overeat if I have to write it down" department. In fact, I get the distinct impression that I am going to eat the last lonely piece of pizza in the fridge after I finish with this one. If I do, I'll be sure to let you know ;P

Kevin had to move back to Florida from Texas today. He grew up in Jacksonville, but he'd been in the Houston area long enough to make some real bonds. He had friends, and a college he was going to, and there was a girl...he never told her how he felt, and now she's hundreds of miles away.

His parents are either completely blind to his pain or are ignoring it for their own benefit. I'm betting on the latter...not that I in any way approve.

The reason for the move--a $30K pay raise--is a good one. But I have yet to hear any solid reasoning why Kevin couldn't have been allowed to stay in Houston, where he was happy. He was already enrolled in school and he'd made a life for himself there. Why his parents couldn't see that and let him live his own life is beyond me.

Seeing him hurt so much makes my heart ache. There's nothing I can do, and I hate that.

I'm going to go get that

Last piece of pizza in the fridge

before I finish posting, so that I won't have to post again. I'd like to actually do up something with my City 12 cop character tonight.

Sam and I have decided to play rivals. My character's name is T.J. Satana (enemies and obnoxious friends call her "Hooker"), and his character's name is L. Dallas Gabriel. They're both Detective Sergeants in the City 12 Police...and their purpose will be to run around meddling in the affairs of all the PCs, fighting each other tooth and nail along the way. It should be fun :D

Mmm...last slice of pizza goodness.

My reaction to Pulp Fiction

All right. Dinner.

One medium Dr Pepper, no ice

8-pc chicken nuggets from Chik-Fil-A

Medium waffle fries

Cole slaw

Is that how you spell it? "Cole slaw"? What a ridiculous term.

I suppose my readers--yes, all two of you--are wondering what happened to the sushi. Well, Sean was already late getting home because he stopped off at his parents' house to pick up a few things he still hadn't moved over here. I saw his saxophone case and a computer case in his car, and apparently there's more stashed in there somewhere. He also ran around to Best Buy and to the Suncoast in the mall, looking for movies. I'm not sure what got him in the mood to watch a movie tonight, but he called me and said he was looking to buy one or more of the following: Pulp Fiction, The Transporter, and Aliens. It turned out that Aliens is currently out of print, due to its initial DVD release being of rather poor quality, and is due to be rereleased in an Alien box set this winter. He finally decided to get Pulp Fiction only, but the mall wanted $10 more than Best Buy, so he swung by the apartment, picked me up, and we ran over to Best Buy.

On the way he told me that he was supposed to meet someone on AC2 at 9pm. This meant that we would have to rush at dinner. I said that we should go to Chik-Fil-A instead, then, and save the sushi for when we had more time. Part of what I love about eating out is not being rushed and just enjoying the evening. So we grabbed Pulp Fiction--and the Matrix Reloaded soundtrack--at Best Buy and then crossed the street to grab some Chik-Fil-A. We came home and Sean was all ready to watch the movie.

I was a little hesitant. I know that Pulp Fiction is one of those movies everyone has seen and that it's critically acclaimed and all, but I'd heard some rumors about what it was like, and quite frankly I was a little afraid of it. So I wasn't too thrilled about watching it right away. It turned out that my DVD player couldn't handle the DVD...it has problems with most modern discs, unfortunately. I thought I was saved, but Sean said we could just watch it on my computer. I relented because he really seemed to want to see it.

I have just retrieved

One glass of sugar-free raspberry juice

I wanted ice cream, but I didn't want to write that I was eating ice cream like a wuss because I was afraid of a movie. :P

So we were watching Pulp Fiction. The initial scene was annoying, but it didn't really bother me. Well, except maybe that kiss, because it was kind of gross. I like kisses and kissing scenes, but that one was sloppy, and it also felt stupid. I mean, these were robbers. Congratufuckinglations on loving each other, but could you stop being assholes?

Anyway, my reaction to the next scene pretty much set the tone for the rest of what I saw of the film. Travolta and Jackson's commentary is amusing, but as things go on and the plot is unfurled I can sense that something is going to happen. Something I know I am not going to like. Something involving violence. I watched Desperado; I've seen flying gore and guts. But that's the kind of movie where it doesn't matter because it's so sudden and surprising. It's cartoony almost. With this, I had to deal with the waiting. Waiting while they chatted with one another, bringing up topics that were seemingly irrelevant--although of course I could tell that everything was included with a purpose. All their apparently inane chatter did was build up the tension. And when they arrived to do the job, instead of simply getting it done...they built up the tension even more.

When Jackson finally shot the guy on the couch, I jerked as if I had been the one shot. And then the guy in the chair began sniveling and I knew he was going to die. I knew it would happen; why wouldn't they go ahead and kill him? But no, they had to torture him, had to taunt him, had to teach him a lesson. I felt like I was the one being tortured and lectured to, and it just wouldn't stop, until finally they were filling the guy with bullets. But seeing him executed was not a relief. It did not relax me, because I knew that the movie was just beginning, and that things far worse than this were coming.

I knew I wasn't safe. I knew that I was going to see things I didn't want to see. I tried to build up my courage, but I was already hugging my elbows, frozen in my chair. I couldn't eat my dinner. (Until later ;P)

The drug dealer scene was surreal and pathetic, but it allowed me to relax a little. I began to cringe again when Travolta shot up. And then he was on his way to see Uma Thurman--a beautiful woman who I found horribly unattractive in this film--and she kept being druggy-sexy, and you knew she was off-limits, and you were just waiting for the shit to hit the fan, and it did, with a fucking vengeance. And the tension just kept building.

The direction...it's brilliant, perfect. It makes you scared about what's coming next because you know something's coming. This is the kind of movie where the plot flows naturally and beautifully but instead of riding along with it, you're being yanked behind on a choker chain that keeps getting tighter and tighter. You never choke, and sometimes it loosens, but there's never enough slack to breathe completely, and then you're being dragged along again and the noose around your neck just gets tighter and tighter.

It was uncomfortable. It was scary. It was a crawly panicky feeling in my gut that made me want to scream.

By the time we got to Bruce Willis' escape from the boxing ring and his meeting with his strange lover, I couldn't take it anymore. They kept talking and talking and I kept cringing and waiting for the door to burst open and for someone to riddle their bodies with bullets. The tension was too much, it was just too much. I got up and left the room and sat on the toilet and cried.

I am a total fucking wuss.

I sat there curled up and let myself cry until I was done. When I finally managed to calm down, I washed my face and came back into the office and told Sean that I didn't think I could watch the rest of the movie.

"Why not?" he asked.

I hugged him around the shoulders from behind; he was still seated at his computer. "Because I don't like it," was the answer I came up with.

"Fair enough."

My husband is a very understanding man. I don't think AJ would have accepted that reason.

I wanted to explain it to him, but I'm not sure I've even adequately described my feelings here. The movie was a pressure cooker, I guess, and I was the first steam to flee. It's not something that makes me jump for joy and be proud of being me, that's for sure.

So I asked Sean to tell me what happens in the rest of the movie, and he did. Now that I know exactly what is going to occur, I might be able to watch it...but not today, not right now. Right now I'd just like to calm back down, drink my raspberry juice, and chat on IRC. Then I'll go to bed and snuggle under the covers and try to forget the horror.

Sticks in the mud

I am now eating:

One glass of sugarless raspberry juice

One large slice of pizza left over from dinner last night

We're going out for sushi later, but I am soooooo hungry it's not even funny. I don't know if this is real hunger or what, but it's giving me a headache, so I figured I should eat. And of course I immediately go for carbs...the quick rush of energy is more appealing than anything substantial. Oh, well. At least pizza has protein, too, in the form of cheese and pepperoni.

I've been reading the PvP archives since last night. That comic is such a hoot. I like to paste links to the funniest ones into the IRC channel, but sometimes it occurs to me that I'm pasting links to every single comic I read. Really, the humor just works for me.

Mari called me earlier to invite Sean and me to go with her, Kelly, and Chris Libby downtown for First Friday. I think it's a sort of festival. Back in Lexington they had Fourth Friday, but it was pretty localized. There was one place, and you paid to get in, and there was art there to look at and a whole bunch of catered food. I never went, though I always thought it would be fun. This seems a little different, though; apparently all the downtown shops put out displays and there is food all over and lots of stuff to do. Sean didn't want to deal with the traffic, and to be honest I didn't feel like going out today anyway, so ultimately we declined. We'll have our sushi instead, then spend the evening at home.

We are really sticks in the mud, I think. We hardly ever do anything. Sean says he is only willing to do stuff on Saturdays and Sundays, and even then he likes to have a week's notice. I can be a little more spontaneous than that, but since I've been married it just seems weird and/or lame to go places without my husband. I still go out on my own, but not as much as I used to. We even run errands together when we're both home at the same time (i.e., when he's not at work).

This pizza is making my headache go away and my thoughts clearer. I don't know what it is with me and food. Maybe I've psyched myself out so that I can only relax and feel better by falling into my bad habits with a vengeance. :>

So yeah, sticks in the mud. Yesterday we had Sean's old boss, Don, and his wife Suzanne over for dinner. Suzanne invited me to go with her during the week to volunteer in a special education classroom. I waffled around and finally said no; it was my first impulse. Part of it seems to be my natural inclination to never leave the apartment (even though I keep saying "I need to get out more"), and part of it was my timidity. I seem to be afraid of everything these days. I don't feel like I can do anything. I have no confidence. I feel the most comfortable at home in my apartment, where I am in charge, and on the AMRN, another place where I'm in charge. The thought of leaving these two areas and going out somewhere else is vastly unappealing. It's most pointed when I think about getting a new job. I'm so insecure in my abilities--to be honest, I don't even know what I'm qualified to do--that I can't sell myself, and most of the time I don't feel like I want to work anywhere anyway. It's new people to meet, new rules to learn, and I'd be starting at the bottom. It just all seems scary and uncomfortable to me.

So instead, I'm just sitting around in a rut, turning down invitations to go out and do things with other people and staying at home on the computer.

This doesn't seem healthy.

I hate housework. I would love to have a job that took me away from that. But I love the AMRN. I love what I do there. I love chatting to AMRN people about the game, and coming up with new ideas and implementing them. I love the writing. I love how fast-paced it can get when you have a group of people all online at once and they decide to RP together. It is just so much fun. There are times when it feels like work, but on the whole, I feel like I wouldn't want to be doing anything else.

It would be extraordinarily cool if I could get paid to do something similar to what I do on the AMRN.

I am a content editor, a manager, a producer, a writer...I don't know exactly how I would define my role. I like being in a position to do what I can where I can and when I can. I like having the freedom to make choices, and the responsibility to take care of business. But ultimately I like participating in the community.

Where can I find something like that that will actually earn me an income?

"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 Jazz and Rizwan'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 Jazz invited me over knowing that a guy was coming to do a sales pitch. This seems extraordinarily odd to me. When Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Kristanne were best friends and had been for years. But apparently she and Kristanne had had a falling out, and now Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Jazz later denied having done this as well.

Then there was the time we took Jazz 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, Jazz 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, Jazz 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 Jazz went to the University of Louisville. There, she met Khawaja Rizwan Shuja (Khawaja is his last name, and Shuja is his father's name, but in the US this was misinterpreted so his last name is legally Shuja), an electrical engineering masters candidate from Pakistan. The two of them were married in January of 1997, mere months after they met.

Jazz 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, Jazz and Rizwan drove down from Louisville to visit me.

I had met Rizwan 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 Jazz and Rizwan. I had decided that while Rizwan was awkward in some ways, I liked him. Jazz 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. Rizwan was about to get his masters, and Jazz was still working on her degree as well. This is a good memory that I have of Jazz.

After I got well, I enrolled at the University of Kentucky. Rizwan had his degree and had gotten a job in Harrodsburg; they bought a house in Nicholasville and Jazz 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.

Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Jazz.

One day while she was rushing down the hallway in her home, Jazz 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. Jazz 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, Jazz 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 Jazz 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 Rizwan 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, Maryam, who I had learned of through Jazz's sister Libby. Jazz 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 Jazz has had another baby. She and Rizwan are still living in Boston, as far as I know. Jazz 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 Jazz has a happy life, and that she finds herself a true friend.

Which OS are you?

Which OS are You?

VICTORY!

Hahahaha! I have finally defeated you, "Duncan Donaldo"!

Learn to "dance"

I spotted this billboard on my way to my grandmother's house in Lexington, Kentucky on June 26. Somehow, I don't think this sort of exposure was what the Arthur Murray school of dance had in mind.