As I expected, more than half of the people there I didn’t recognize – either at first, or, in some cases, at all.  It’s been 10, 12, maybe more years since I saw these people, and some of them I only saw for a few hours, here and there.  Others I spent a lot of time with over my teenage years … and some of those I still forgot the names of – though I recognized their faces, voices, and characters.  A few of them looked like they had been somehow stuck into a time capsule after the last time I saw them; nearly identical to my memories, what memories I have.  Which was eerie.  Much more eerie than that most of their personalities seem to have likewise been frozen in time; that I’m used to.  People tend to stay largely the same, beyond a certain stage of psychological development.

It was good seeing them again.  There were missing faces.  A lot of missing faces.  It’s hard to get hold of people after so long, especially when no one knows their last names or … much else about them that might help find them, because when we were friends none of that stuff mattered.  But those who showed up it was good to see.

And there was something else there.  The realization of something I’ve known, something I’ve been telling people, repeating to people, trying to teach people about, trying to capture in my fiction, something so a part of me that it had become nearly invisible to me.  Tonight brought to the surface, made real again; relevant for a moment.  An inescapable truth of my being.  Have you guessed it, yet?  It’s a recurring theme.

I have been telling people for years, for over a decade, apparently.  I have been trying to explain it in a way that doesn’t drive people away, doesn’t threaten them, doesn’t cast me in a dark or pitiful light.  I don’t know that I needed, ever, to try so hard – people know, people believe, when they see it, when they hear it.  I’ve had people tell me that just from hearing my voice change in response to it has made them believe in, and to long to experience what has been the source of so much joy and so much strife in my life.  I love.  Love.  True Love, as the pirate says.  Nothing less than True Love.  The tricky thing about true love, as I understand it, as I experience it, is that it is unconditional, unending.

As I explained to one, but true for all: I can only love her more, I can never love her any less.  

I can never love any of them any less.  It was difficult to learn that I could love again, to love another, living with these fires burning unrequited within me, though one of them taught me how to burn again.  Taught me I could fall in love again.  And every time since the first, half a dozen times so far that have each burned so bright that it feels upon spark of ignition that I’ll be consumed, used up by it, I have tried to explain that the one, the ones, I loved before I will always love. And the love I feel for you now can never be diminished, only increased.

And it is always a struggle of some sort.  From where I am, from my heart, I don’t know how they don’t understand.  It’s so simple and obvious to my heart, and has been since the night I was awakened to the reality of love.  What has been seen cannot be unseen.  What has been loved cannot be unloved.  Not truly.

Though one can move on.  One can go about daily life.  Life without.  Life apart.  One can even find new love and can grow that new love, perhaps into something greater than what has come (and gone) before it.  I have done so.  I have moved on.  And moved on.  And moved on. And I have found new love.

I even lucked out and found love with someone who not only loves me, but chooses to be with me.  Who chose to marry me.  Someone I could share a commitment with.  Which is more than I can say for all the other people I experience True Love with.  Which does wonders for the growth of this new love that years of wistful pining never could.

Then, after I-don’t-know-how-long, tonight I saw Melissa.  (Would you believe I felt her before I saw her?)  Instantly I realized that all those years of saying “I still love her” and “I’ll always love her” weren’t mere words but were truth.  Palpable.  Like a presence in the room.  We didn’t speak, not really, a brief hello and ‘this is my wife’ and … well, what do you say when the truth does no good?  We had our chance, long ago.  It was not to be.  It certainly isn’t something now deserving of action, this love; the time for action has long since passed.  I am happy and in love with my wife.  From what I know and from what I could see, she is happy and in love with her husband & daughter.  Which actually gives me a really good feeling; seeing the people you love happy is so great, and so much better than seeing them unhappy and/or alone.  So much better than mere ignorance.

Where do I go from here?  What can I say?

Just repeat myself, I guess.  ”I still love her, and I’ll always love her.”  It’s true of Melissa, and it’s true of my wife.  Except I see my wife every day, so it’s only a shock three or four times a week how much I love my wife – I haven’t seen Melissa in perhaps a decade, so the shock of that realization seems much greater.  Perhaps also because realizing it about Melissa brings to mind the realization that it’s true for Amanda, Sara, Jennifer and Jennifer, as well, though no reunion is likely that would bring any of them into my sight again.  So, what can I say?

Amanda, Melissa, Sara, Jennifer, Jennifer, and Amanda:  I still love you.  I always will.

I was working in the kitchen today, slaving over a hot stove and a cutting board and hoping my improvised recipe would delight and nourish and it occurred to me that all the time I spend every week, not just cooking, but also thinking about it, shopping for it, studying cookbooks and recipes on index cards and online, and all this time and effort and energy… It isn’t wasted. It never felt wasted, but it occurred to me today that spending an hour or more a day, most days of the week, cooking for my family is one of the most valuable things I contribute. Not (just) because cooking real food reduces costs, but because it adds value.

Whether because of the failing economy or because I’m failing to market myself effectively, I’m not bringing a lot of financial reward into the household right now. Yet when I’m able to put a good meal in front of my wife after she’s had a long day at work, I know there are more important rewards in life to invest yourself in, and that I’m a success in the areas that matter to me most.

My mom taught me -she tried to teach me- how to make her spaghetti sauce. If I’m able to remain a househusband, if I’m able to continue investing myself in showing my love through food, maybe in another couple of years … Maybe I’ll have the skill required to share what made her sauce so special, in making a sauce that my family will associate with love, happiness, family… We’re Italian, it’s all in the sauce, right?

Well, I suppose there is now, but… You know what I mean.

Admittedly, we’d only just decided to go ahead with the date and general plan last Monday (one week ago), and I worked a bunch of overtime, then Thanksgiving, then an insane Black Friday and all day Saturday devoted to our new SubZero fridge (new to us, and a steal at only $300, from Stardust)… But enough excuses for not posting the details, on to the details:

Mandy and I are getting married on Saturday, December 1st, 2007 at Excalibur in Las Vegas, NV.

If you haven’t been invited, and would like to attend and can get there on no notice, please let me know. I recently lost a lot of my contact info, and may not be able to get hold of you. Sorry.

Anyway, that’s coming up in a few days, now, so I thought I ought to post something about it. It’s big news, I know, but … Yeah, I guess I’m just not keeping up with my online journal.

I have had in the past a tendency to re-invent the wheel when I did not need to. I recently came up with a “new” combo discipline for the role-playing game I mentioned; several days later I received a call informing me that the developers of the game had already developed it and published it. If I had researched it properly, I wouldn’t have come up with the character I did, since I would have thought of the discipline in the way the publishers intended, but I would have known the proper way to achieve and use it. Is it better to develop it on my own, to address the obstacle I have specifically, or to try to find out if someone else has done this before, or something like this, and do it the way that someone else already has?

There is a funny story about how one time I needed to divide some numbers, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember how to divide, so I worked out a theoretical model that described division, and simplified from that until I had a process to divide the numbers at hand. After that day for a while, it was still on my mind, and I simplified and simplified and made division more and more elegant until some time later it occurred to me that someone had figured out how to divide before me, and I looked up how to do long division. It was one of the steps in between. My end result (which I can’t recall right now, either) was easier and faster than long division, but something very much like long division was something I developed independently from my understanding of how division MUST work. So, sure, maybe nowadays I just grab a calculator, but I know that if I were pressed, I can figure out how to develop ways of figuring things out. Does that make me a better person that someone who just memorized multiplication and division tables? Does that say something about the difficulties I had comprehending fractions in the fifth grade? Who knows.

Did you know that the design of the back end of the Modern Evil website is basically an entirely new way of storing and parsing content and HTML separately that I developed on my own because of the way I wanted things simplified? I didn’t do a lot of research about what other people were doing to tackle the problems I was faced with, because I hadn’t seen any websites that did what I thought I wanted. What I came up with is a fairly elegant solution that resulted in a total separation of content from layout and style, and a total of two .html files for the whole site. The rest is in javascript files. A “normal” website would have the content IN the HTML files. This causes problems for some site administrators because when they want to change some element of the layout, they have to modify hundreds or thousands of individual HTML files. My method means I only have to update the two. (If I wanted to, I could even narrow it down to one, at the expense of a little load time on archives pages.) My method also solves a problem that was addressed years before by the development of CSS 1 and CSS 2, which effectively separate style from content. Their method puts the content in HTML files and the style in new files, called .css files. This site uses CSS for its layout.

So, was I wrong to develop a solution to a problem that had already been addressed? Was it a waste of my time? Could I have done better with CSS? Possibly. I might even have a little better-looking site over at Modern Evil. As it turns out, I can go ahead and use CSS in addition to my JS workaround, and further separate the style from the content. I would effectively have HTML files that did nothing but call other files at that point.  But the point of this message, I think, is about whether I should try to stop myself from re-inventing everything.

Like interpersonal relationships. Sure, I have done quite a bit of study on the subject, both personally and by reading about other people’s first- and second-hand experiences with interpersonal relationships. I have also gone to great lengths to ignore what is commonly considered “normal” and to stay away from “dating” people. I have had so many relationships that there just aren’t words to explain easily in the last five years that I believe I have definitely been re-inventing the wheel. In other cases where I took something that had been done before and re-worked it from scratch, I came up with a novel approach that was different than the original but also successful; is this possible with relationships? Is it desirable? Who knows?

The thing I was thinking of programming for, ultimately, would be a new tool for building/displaying digital comics in a way that has been suggested, but which has no possible, real implementation available at this time. I know a couple of people working on writing comics that use this paradigm, but who are using inferior tools that do not fully implement their vision. The tool I am imagining would not only allow them to fully implement the vision they have in mind, it would be able to draw from the materials they are developing for the inferior environment and improve upon it. Strangely, I do not particularly have a story or idea in mind for how I would personally utilize this technology, except to enable others to use it.

Ah, good old-fashioned horse-before-carriage work. Is there anything finer?

The beginning.

I remember the first time that I saw you, I know what I was wearing, and where in the house I was. The stairs, I came bounding down the stairs to see who it was. And there you where, tall and so striking. And at that point, I can safely say that I liked you, enough to dream about you. Enough to think about how lucky Melissa was, not to mention my ongoing infatuation with her, that made me want to be either of you, just to be with one of you, what a far off and distant dream that seemed. I remember when I first saw he ring. On those beautiful hands, that sparkle in her eyes as she fluttered the fingers on her left hand, and all I could think was “my God, that’s beautiful” The next time I saw you, you two were together, in my living room, it was night time, and I remember sighing. Later, I don’t know how much later, but April and I were watching a movie, she had come over to spend the night, and the phone rang, and that voice, that charismatic and sweet voice floated into my ears, and we chatted, and I made a flirtatious joke, and it is safe to say that the next day when I was informed that that same flirtatious remark had been taken seriously, I was infatuated. You told me, and I remember that feeling, the same one I felt when I found out I made the musical, or got that part in Dracula. Like a cage full of birds had just been let loose from my heart. And we talked, for hours, you had so many interesting things to say, I could have listened to you for days at a time. And sometime, during those conversations, that was when I fell in love with you. That was when you became my everything. I learned so many things from you over the years (at this point I feel the chronological order more or less stopping). How to listen to myself, how to understand without anyone pointing it out to me that I was in the wrong, how to correct mistakes, admitting that I made them, you taught me how to love. You were this fountain of wisdom, strength and love that I could not drink enough from. I called you for comfort, when I wanted a friend, to advise me and tell me the truth, to love me in spite if the fact that I didn’t always do it right. And always, it astonished me that someone so wonderful, someone who seemed so out of my league, could love me. Me, a little girl who was immature and often stupid and most certainly more emotional than necessary. And I will admit, and this will come as no great shock to you, I was jealous. Of Melissa, of Amanda. I used to think to myself, “will that ever be me, someone that another loves so much that they talk about them as if they were everything about life, just as essential as water?” And too soon, it was February. And my pride (and I still can’t decide if I acted in the right or wrong in that situation) would not allow me to be with someone who shared a room and bed with another woman. It was too heartbreaking to think of you entwined with someone else. So I ended it, it seemed the logical thing to do. I remember were I was sitting, I hung up the phone, all alone in a big dark house, and I began to cry. I couldn’t believe it. Somewhere in there, my heart broke when you logically explained why I should let you be with yet another girl at the same time as with me. How could I argue? I didn’t know how then, though now I could think of a few things to say in that same situation. But I consented, I don’t to this day know why. My memories of time with you are few and far between, but they are beautiful, and my favorite, was new years eve. I think it was new years eve anyway, I went up to my bedroom, changed clothes and turned out the light. I lifted up the shades on my window, and out under the street lamp, you stood, looking up. And I bounded down the stairs as fast as I dared, hopped the fence, and there you were. We talked, and shivered together. I love that memory. The rest, well, I’ve more important things to write.

I know that you feel you don’t know me, that there are trivial things about me that anyone who loves someone should know about me. But, not surprisingly, we are a little different; no you don’t know where I was born, what my fathers name is or what my favorite food is (Victorville, California, Don, pasta all the way!), but you can think with me, you know me well enough to understand me when I make no sense. You get my subtleties and my tones. We two, get each other when we talk, it’s almost as if we share a soul. I love you Teel, for years now you’ve helped me to grow up and become something resembling a mature woman (I make no claim that I am there yet, just close). I will be forever grateful for the wonderful and positive influence that you have had on my life. I don’t care anymore about the mistakes you made, or that I made (and believe me when I say that we both made our far share). But I couldn’t do it, I wasn’t strong enough to be with you, I fell in love with someone and the guilt of you and my love for you hung over him like a cloud, and that hurt me too. I don’t know if I ever really told you this but, our communication breakdown happened as my love and connection with him grew stronger and stronger. I was afraid, you expected and wanted much more from me then I was prepared to offer. I didn’t want to make promises to you that I didn’t know whether or not I could keep. That’s when it became hard. When all at once everyone old me to love them the most, like children, I couldn’t handle it. In hindsight, I should have just stopped with two and picked one, but I wanted it all, and I grew guiltier and guiltier for what I was putting everyone through. I don’t want to lose you, I want to always have my good friend and first love, Teel, in my life. Even if only a little, don’t be afraid of me love, love me as I love you. I don’t want nothing to do with you, I just am not ready to promise you or anyone else, me. When we talk now, you seem so timid, tears swell in my eyes at some of the things you say, and that I have read. I’m sorry, sorry that I couldn’t have been kinder and better to you, I should have been. I was wrong and I hope that you will forgive me my many shortcomings, so that we may continue to love each other as the close and dear friends that I want us to be. Having written this, I feel better, a little more at peace. I don’t want you out of my life, you are a significant and wonderful part of it. I’m sorry that I can be so insensitive. Sometimes I think that I try to figure things out too late, and make a lot of mistakes that way. I love you, I know what you mean about the music, it’s yet to be written that express’s loneliness as it is for both of us right now. I suppose that is all for now, it’s late but I seem far from tired. I got stung by a wasp on the shoulder yesterday and now the sting itches, I put glow in the dark stars in my room, and they’re so lovely. I’m almost done reading my favorite book for the fourth time and will soon move on to the sequel for its fourth turn. I read a lot at night, I can’t sleep anymore, funny. I used to be able to sleep like a log at the drop of a hat, it was you that had trouble, and now, well anyway sleep well, you’ve earned the rest.

Love

Sara

I have not had a “normal” dating-type relationship with anyone in about five years. I was only dating for about four years before that. Oh, I have certainly had relationships, romantic and otherwise, in the last five years. I just don’t think I can consider any of them normal dating relationships. In the last five years I have been engaged four times (only three of them serious) (as though the difference between three and four were as significant as the difference between the zero and one are for normal people).

I did a count recently, and I have been party to sexual events with twenty-seven different people. For more info on what I mean by sexual events, take a look at this article on intimacy. Although I did not strictly use the definition given there, I have personally begun to take this type of understanding of intimacy to heart. In a more strict count, with only 12 of those people, in one event or more, were the pants of either party removed with sexual intent/action. Oh, and I am able to remember all but one or two of their names. (For those of you that care, only two of them are not women.)

I meet someone. They move away only days later. We begin corresponding by mail and are suddenly betrothed. Thousands of miles apart, and young; it does not last. She has since disappeared.

An ex-girlfriend and I decide to get engaged. Her parents convert it into Courtship, instead. Personal demons between us, and young; it does not last. She has since married another.

I once had a girl move in with me. I wanted to save her from her life. I used an engagement to try to get her to stay. She was too in love with the worst parts of what I wanted to save her from; it did not last. She has since married another.

The younger sister of a friend of mine jokingly offers to ‘go out’ with me; I say okay. We never see each other. At one point I convince her and another young woman to ‘go out’ with me at the same time. I continue to live on the other side of town. I continue to be an asshole. She dumps me. We remain friends. Years later we get engaged. Thousands of miles and years and years get in the way, and still young; it does not last. She has since moved to Spain.

I tried having relationships with a stalker or two, but they’re never serious about building a future;they’re just obsessed. A one night stand here or there as well, but only confusing for the other person since I don’t have sex. I even had a “friend with benefits” for a while, but we decided that the “benefits” weren’t benefiting either of us and stopped that a year or so ago; we’re still friends, though. In recent months I’ve tried picking up girls at clubs, but I seem to run into problems. I seem to feel like I don’t know what to do next; I know how to pick people up, but then what? They eventually stop returning my calls.

(Note: At this point in the typing, I have been briefly interrupted. A little window popped up on my screen letting me communicate directly with a computer in Spain. Weird. Good, but weird.)

For the last couple of years (Since after February ’98, to be exact) I have been intentionally not dating anyone. I had decided for one reason or another that dating was not something I was going to do. That didn’t stop people from being attracted to me and wanting to have intimate relationships (emotionally and otherwise) with me. It certainly didn’t stop me from being attracted to people, or from wanting to spend the rest of my life with someone that I love, or from craving human contact, or from craving sexual fulfillment. All it seemed to do was complicate things for me and everyone around me. I seem to want to try again. I seem to want to have a girlfriend.

I have recently found myself pre-emptively pushing someone away because I thought letting them get closer MIGHT result in emotional turmoil and pain for me. How awful is that? I think I was hoping she’d be assertive enough to press the issue. That she’d be interested enough in me that she’d try anyway. At least suggest that something good might come from the two of us together. Something. I don’t even know what I said. I just know I have to fix it. So, with any luck, I’ll have a “girlfriend” before too long. Hopefully, it will be wonderful and lasting.

It hit me again last night. A friend of mine who I hadn’t seen in a while, who is not aware of the events that transpired in the last year or more, brought up Sara. Specifically brought up memories of the sort of relationship I had with Sara when we were first dating, years ago. He meant nothing by it, and in the context it was a reasonable thing to do. In fact, I didn’t even overreact to it at the time, but it got me to thinking and it got me to feeling about how much she has been a part of my life and for how long.

There was a time when it was part of a common mythology that Sara and I (and several other people, for that matter) are the same person. I don’t want to try to explain more of it than that, because it basically amounts to a silly way to say that we were all very good friends; we created a little family between us. It always seemed natural to me that Sara be a part of my family. Last night I said that Sara has “moved irrevocably to Spain.” It feels like the family has now been completely torn apart, each member moving further and further away from the others. Some of them with that specific purpose in mind.

Yes, you’re right, part of the reason I keep saying I want to be alone is that way when I end up alone I can at least feel like it is what I intended. What I wanted and expected. Not what it has been in the past; a sign in my mind of failure. Certainly I appreciate companionship, but I don’t require it. I crave it, but I don’t really need it. I think that part of the problem I have is in trying to find companionship. I don’t seem to be very good at making new friends.

I meet a lot of people, sure. I have a lot of charisma, so I don’t seem to have trouble meeting people or having charming or interesting conversations with total strangers. What I seem to have a problem with is in turning them from “people I’ve met” into “people I know well, and am fond of” (ie: friends) and just as importantly, not failing to transform in their minds from just “someone they met” into “someone they know well and are fond of.” (To love, and be loved in return.) They don’t let me get to know them or one of us finds we aren’t fond of the other, or … they stop returning calls/emails.

I know I’m repulsive to people who know me but don’t know me well. I also know that people that know me well seem to enjoy spending time with me. I have also noticed that among the people that I’ve been spending time with lately (read: several weeks), the one I met most recently is someone I met over 2 years ago. A couple of them are coming up on a decade towards the end of this year, and that seems like a really long time to know someone since I’m only 22.

It’s like there’s an white event horizon people have to get past once they begin to get to know me. When they first meet me, and know nothing about me, I seem like fun to be with. Then the more that they learn about me, the more time they spend with me, the harder and harder it is for them to want to spend time with me. (Many people spend a period where they hate me. I think it’s cute.) Some people have lower tolerances and don’t get anywhere near knowing enough about me to reach this “event horizon”; it pushes them too hard, or they try to learn too much too fast, and they just run for cover. Others have either the perseverance or bad luck to continue to be exposed to me, and there seems to be a point, an “event horizon”, past which all of a sudden the resistance they had to spending time with me seems to vanish.

Ah, babbling. Such fun for everyone involved.

I think the thing that gets to me, the question whose answer I can’t seem to grasp fully, is “What’s next?” I get up, I go to work, I come home. I eat, I drink, I sleep. Then what? What’s next? I meet someone, I get to know them, I like them. Then what? What’s next? How much, how far, how long? How deep, how intimate, how honest?

Someone else lives in her house, now. Someone else has always lived in her heart, but my hope seems to know no bounds, and that has never seemed like it stood in the way of our love for each other fulfilling its own promise. Even when we have spoken our last words to each other, after we have seen each other for the last time, after she has moved away, never to return, my hope believes that everything will work out for the best. I do not necessarily believe that this is untrue, but I can see that what is best for the two of us may not turn out to be each other. It could have been great, but maybe not the best. They say the best is yet to come.

I am so tired. I don’t know how to be. If I go to sleep now, will I wake up?

I have had many right ideas about the way things should be, about the ways that I should be, that I have not fulfilled through my words or actions. Can I expect him to truly believe and live up to the ideal that he presented to me verbally, or should I trust the instinct that tells me that people say whatever they think you want to hear to get into bed with you? Well, he’s already been in bed with me, and I was pretty resistant to much of anything happening there; I don’t want to take things too fast with anyone. Not strange new people, not old friends. Especially with old friends (Jen) on my mind. I don’t think I could go to bed with him again right away, and I think he wants me to, and … when I’m around him I just want to make him happy. I guess he’s charismatic.

Except for the other thing on my mind. He’s called me several times in the last week, and we seem to run out of things to say right away. It could be something else, but … what if we really don’t have anything to say to each other? Our conversations on Sunday in person seemed to go okay, but we had crutches of conversation starters like “Tell me about yourself” and “What do you want?” (those of you not familiar with that line in the context of Teel may misinterpret that; if you’re among them, try to ignore it altogether.) I couldn’t have any kind of lasting relationship with someone I couldn’t have a meaningful conversation with (which may be part of what drove Sara further away), and I don’t even want to think of him only being interested in me for my body.

I realize that, yes, there are people who are interested in me for my body. I have been told in no uncertain terms by four or five people in the last three weeks alone that I “look great.” In those words by every one of them. When these words came out of his mouth, I understood that they could easily fall into the category of trying to get me into bed (except that we were in bed together at the time), but no less than two of the people who said it were definitely NOT interested in pursuing a physical relationship with me. They were just making an observation.

Which is great, and it makes me feel good about all the work I’ve put into losing weight and dressing well and presenting as positive an attitude as possible, except that I still feel pretty mushy where I want to be flat and pretty flat where I want to be bulgy. And my hair IS getting better at doing what I want it to do, but sometimes it means I have purple feet and scalp, and other times it just seems to be there to frustrate me. What was my point? Oh yes.

I realize there are people that are interested in me for my body, but I seem to have increasingly little tolerance for physical relationships. Not just because I’m out of practice(It’s midnight now.), but because although it can be an important component of a successful relationship, I am much more interested in the other (more foundational) aspects of relationships (like open and honest communication, love, and deep sharing of one’s whole life) and believe that the physical should follow naturally afterward. Not the other way around. Certainly the initial interest in meeting another person and getting to know them often comes from an immediate physical attraction, and that is important because without it the physical intimacy would not be easy or natural, but there should certainly be more developed from that initial glimpse of interest.

Sure, hearing his voice and his tone just energizes me, but trying to pursue the kind of worthwhile relationship that is the only kind I could consider would be not only difficult but problematic for both of us, and our friends. I really do want to take some time to be normal by myself in my new house. I really do feel like an ascetic, and maybe that is what pushes me to deny myself whatever happiness this man represents. Asceticism is a lot about intentional self-deprivation. It comes very naturally to me. Trying to train myself to indulge has become very expensive and not as fulfilling as I’d hoped.

I think I’ll end up pushing him away, one way or another, and not very far off from now in time. I feel like it is for the best. Best of what, I am not sure, but I certainly don’t have an emotional investment in him yet, he’s just this great guy I met. And I’m just the sky, you know?

I hardly know her, though I’ve known her for years. She’s thousands of miles away, but closer to me than Sara in more ways than physically.

He also lives in Phoenix and does not drive. I also met him at Rocky (not the best place to try to pick people up if you’re interested in a serious relationship or a lasting relationship or a healthy relationship). He also smokes, which is something that I can tolerate but that can really turn me off, and which I don’t allow to occur in my domicile.

He also left me with a very nice kiss. I won’t try to describe it, I’ll just say that it was very appropriate, and very, very nice.

You can meet him at my party.

Did I tell you I’ve basically finished my home hunting? That little house I wanted to rent, the one that was right in the neighborhood I originally wanted, the one that was $125 less/month then the next cheapest rental in even the extended area I was looking in, through some amount of finagling, will be mine. Because my work hours do not allow me to meet with the rental company offering it, I had to do some things out of order to get an application to them before anyone else’s and get it paid for as well. I have yet to meet anyone related to the house, though I have spoken to several of them over the phone. Regardless, within 24hrs of the time the first person was officially allowed to see the interior of the house, 6 applications (in addition to mine) were submitted. Mine was the first, and the first processed as a result, and (because I have “great credit”) it was approved first and I get the house. Hooray!

So, although before I applied, they told me it would be available before the beginning of June, they are now saying that some “repairs” need to be done, and it won’t be available for another couple of weeks. That’s fine with me, I still have to pay for this place through the end of July (though I must be out by July 31st), and I’m in no hurry to pay more than I have to. Also, I assume the “repairs” they’re talking about are the installation of all appropriate monitoring equipment for the entertainment product I am a part of. I have not yet spoken to the property manager or owner, but they are supposed to call me next week with more information about when it will be ready for me, and to set up an appointment for me to come give them a bunch of secured funds, and I will discuss the matter of the insufficient electricity at that time.

I realize that it is unprecedented in a rental property, but if I can get the electricity upgraded, I can see myself living in this house for many years, and it would certainly be worth the expense if I had to pay for part or all of the cost of getting an electrician to come out and at least add grounding to the outlets, and maybe wire the laundry room for 220v. For my dryer, you understand. I will also discuss with them the possibility of (immediately or eventually) purchasing the home from the owner, at which point upgrading the electricity would fall on my pockets anyway. Of course, if I find that this piece of property is far above my current price range, it will have to be eventually, so I can save a down payment to cover the difference.

According to Quicken, I am currently $11,430.25 in debt between the balances on all of my accounts (including Joel’s Discover Card, of course, which has the highest outstanding debt of all of my accounts). This seems relatively reasonable, I suppose. If I can pay that amount off in the next year, I can save the same amount in the following year, and then I have the beginning of a nice down payment on a home, and Zero debt, which comes in handy when you’re trying to get a big loan. That, and the evidence of having faithfully paid off all that debt consistently. That is what gives someone “great” credit.

I think I’ll go … do something. I don’t know. I should go down to ReZurrection and take a look at the new art. I probably should have gone down there last night instead of sleeping. Did I mention that I slept last night from 7 to 10? Just lay down and passed out and woke up again 3 hours later with no prompting. I then proceeded to immediately get a phone call from Jen and we got together and hung out until the wee hours of the morning. Like, I woke up to be awake when she called. Regardless, I did not make it to the opening last night at ReZurrection. Perhaps next month.

Seeing other people’s art sometimes helps encourage me to get back to work on my own. I need to buy some paper for drawing on, so I can work on the Diablo comics I’ve got stuck in my head. I found recently that I basically don’t have any plain white paper for drawing on. Maybe some printer paper, but… That is so unwieldy. Anyway, perhaps if I have the right paper, drawing will be easier. Perhaps if I have the right pencils and paper, drawing will be easier.

I’m supposed to get together with Julia and go out dancing tonight. Wear my Need Head shirt again. I don’t know if I’m going to drink or not. I’ve come to a point where someone I care about has questioned the value of that aspect of my clubbing behavior. I do not let other people control my life or make my decisions for me, but when someone close or important to me indicates that something I’m doing hurts or disappoints them, I will certainly take it into consideration again. Review the activity, keeping in mind all benefits and costs (including the newfound cost of its effect on this other person) and decide again whether or not I should be doing it. Drinking socially. I don’t know yet. I’m thinking about it. I’m trying to decide.

Then again, I get the feeling that the whole “going out dancing” thing is about to fall by the wayside. I’m not sure I know what I’m getting out of it, or what I expected to get out of it, or what I want to get out of it, and therefore, I have no way of knowing whether it is fulfilling its intended purpose. I have no way of knowing whether I should go dancing one night and not another. I think I like it, but … what is the point? Julie is fun to be with, certainly, and this is her social activity of choice, it seems, but she spends most of her time trying to pick up guys. To what end, I do not know. I guess I do the same thing; I spend most of my time trying to pick up girls (to what end, I do not know).

I tried picking up on Tami while I was out dancing, and that seemed to go okay until she stopped returning my phone calls. I think that that is the most successful attempt so far, since we actually had a couple of worthwhile conversations after the night we met, and even got together a second time. Then it sort of … stopped. Anyway, what did I want from a relationship with her anyway? What did she want from me that I wasn’t offering her? How will I ever know?

Maybe if I was more interested in casual sex and less interested in worthwhile relationships with interesting people, I wouldn’t even question clubbing. I would know what I was after and (most likely) have no trouble getting it. I certainly don’t expect to meet the love of my life at a club. Maybe that’s part of the problem; I can’t be what I don’t expect to find, and no one knows what to make of me. What is it that other people go for? It seems to me to be more than just dancing. I don’t know if I’ll ever know.

Is that what you are doing now? Sighing, trying to pay attention as I type miles of text about my own trivial experiences? I thought at first that the idea of an audience would just encourage me to write, but I think now it scares me. Some of the people who know that they can find me here… I don’t know… I just feel like I can’t be myself when they’re around. I have no way of knowing whether they’re around, either.

Look, if you don’t really care, why are you still reading? Is this some form of rubbernecking? Are you hoping to see a glimpse of someone else’s pain, and willing to wade through everything else I spew out? If you do care, why did you let them remove the nearby Taco Bell?

Apparently, kissing me is very satisfying. I am glad to know that even without regular practice the deep understanding of the kiss remains a powerful force between any two people. I remember when I was young I used to use the secret to more fulfilling kissing as a gateway to solving the mysteries of the universe and unlocking the secrets to life itself. Ask me someday about it. Or just kiss me deeply a couple of times and I think you’ll begin to be on the right track. It’s all about letting go and giving up.

So, from one idea to the next very quickly, and back to Taco Bell. Mostly because I’m hungry. If it gets to be too bad by the time I finish up here (or really, really bad and I stop in the middle, wracked with hunger), I’ll probably go melt some cheese into my belly. Not the burrito I had in mind, but it will have to do. Silly body, needing fuel to keep running all the time.

So, some of you are aware of a very sweet little project I’ve been working on for Sara, where I read The Princess Bride aloud to my computer, and it reads it aloud to a magical disc of plastic, which in turn reads it aloud to Sara. I read three entire chapters to my computer tonight. Two of them were very short chapters, I will admit, but the next one is nearly 100 pages long. Luckily, it is broken up into several distinct parts. I plan on making separate tracks from each of the different parts of the chapter, and splitting it between two CD’s in the most appropriate fashion. I find the experience very fulfilling for many reasons. First, because I love Sara very deeply, and I know that this is something that she will be able to appreciate not just this summer, but as years go by. I have long promised to read to her, and this book in particular deserves to be read aloud; we have simply not had the opportunity to sit together and read the book before. Additionally, I am making use of software and technology that I have long been interested in, and I have already learned quite a bit about how to manipulate audio digitally to get it to behave the way you want it to. Heck, I love The Princess Bride. I’ve read it many times before, and in order to do this, I have to hear every chapter no less than twice, often three times. I am not getting sick of it; it is well written, and I am loving the story while picking up William Goldman’s writing style a little more.

Of course, picking up and thinking about the writing style of a well-known, widely published and appreciated author is one thing. Actually beginning to write is another. I am trying to create an interface that will make it as easy to write a page or a chapter or whatever of a book I would like to write, as it is for me to post here. In fact, for those of you familiar with my monkey-related religion, you know where it will be kept. I’ve even already set up the visual style of the thing. I’ve just got to configure the back end now to work more easily with writing a single, coherent work of fiction.

I like the idea that it will be there for me (or the people I invite to look at it) to give me feedback about whenever something occurs to me. Not limited by the width of the margin for making notes, I can go back to a particular passage or page and make comments forever, re-writing as I see fit. (I hope. Traditionally when I write, by the time the words reach the first draft, they are the final draft. I realize that this is not really the best way for most people to write, and I would like to see if I can benefit from this weird “re-writing” thing that everyone seems so fond of.

A week or two ago, Iain said that He was going to Fry’s electronics and asked if I would like to go along. The normal answer for this is yes, but I am always interested to know what Iain is going for, so I asked him. He said he was interested in picking up a copy of Quicken so that he can keep track of his budget easier. So, since I’d been designing spreadsheets and coming up with intricate plans involving whiteboards and cork-boards to try to get myself organized and get all my financial information into one place, so I can see where my money is going and what I can afford (especially with the increased upcoming expense of living alone), I did a little research about Quicken and its competitors. Since its competitors basically comes down to a Microsoft product, and because Quicken does everything I need and some stuff I’d like to learn to do (that being the business side of the program), I decided to pick up a copy of Quicken 2001 for Mac.

When Iain and I went to Fry’s, I picked up Quicken and he decided not to. Whatever. I installed it and tried to get it to automatically get my account information online, with varied success. Actually, the software on my laptop doesn’t seem to be able to get ANY information over the internet, whereas the companion website (which is supposed to integrate with all the information I put into my local copy of quicken, but I can’t seem to get that to work yet either) quicken.com is at least able to get all of the information about my Discover Card account. Not that it can share it with my Quicken software, but I’m sure that if I can figure out how to get the help files installed I’ll be good to go in no time.

So, I spent all afternoon today manually entering information about all my various accounts and all the transactions and interactions between all the accounts between about mid-February and the present (I’ll keep entering data pre-Feb as time goes on. With some of my accounts there is no way for me to have complete historical data, but with others I will be able to show every transaction from day one. Mostly my recent loans.) and it all seems to work pretty well. The more data I have already entered, the easier it is to enter more data. The more closely I follow the guidelines for how to use the various fields, the more information I can get about my accounts, and the more tightly they integrate. It seems to be quite a powerful program, with thousands of features I hope to learn about over time. Again with me, it is all about ease of use. Because it is easy for me to post here at any time from basically any location, I am more likely to do so and for it to occur to me to do so. The same with accounting; if it’s easy, I’ll do it.

When I started typing this, it was just after midnight and I was a little hungry, and I thought the title “Midnight Snack” was cute and appropriate, since I though I would basically be giving you a little something to chew on. Who know what it’s turning out to be,though. My mind is getting pretty drowsy. I was up a little extra late last night (definitely not regretting that) so it thinks it should get the chance to sleep. As far as I’m concerned it can just fuck itself to hell for all I care. It didn’t respond appropriately to Caffeine. I didn’t get a chance to go back to the grocery store to pick up more dMD, so i accidentally quit caffeine again on saturday. I actually complained on Sunday and Monday about not getting any ill side effects. Then again, when I got up to consuming 3 times the dose considered an overdose without even getting jittery, and still wanting to sleep eight to twelve hours a night, I was complaining about that, too. I guess my body just forgot what caffeine was after not seeing it for so long. Oh well. I guess that will save me some money.

But it means that I have to decide to sleep less and be more active without the use of drugs. Fine, I can do that, obviously. I think sticking to it is the hard part. Like, some people who are aware of my mild cyclothymia (like bi-polar disorder, except it is the difference between a square wave and a sine wave) thought that I have been on the “Up” part of the roller-coaster lately. Nope. Been melancholy lately. Really down in the dumps. Trouble coming up with motivation, feelings of desperation, feelings of loneliness and isolation; all that fun stuff. I just don’t let it stop me from continuing to live my life. I figure that if the preferred method is to be happy and live your life at the same time, then being depressed and living your life shouldn’t be any more difficult. (Yes, I realize most people who just live their lives aren’t as happy as the depressed are sad, but you get the idea I’m trying to get across, right? Feelings should be a part of life, not instead of life.)

Okay, obviously getting a little too wacky in the head there. I guess this is where we part ways for a little while. Looks like my stomach has found a way to digest its own liner, so I should be able to make it until morning. Unless you stop by with a Burrito. I’ll get up for a delicious burrito.

Mmmmm…. Burrito….