So Grace just called, after getting off work. I am reminded of why I love her so much. She cheered me immensely, having not seen my earlier blog entry at all, and so having no idea that I needed it. To anyone who reads this: never fool yourself into believing you want to spend your life with someone who does not make you feel wonderful. I would amend that to say, "as wonderful as Grace makes me feel," but I don't think most of you are that lucky. I suck at cards and gambling, but I got the girl. So boo-yah!

So, church turned out well. I was the only person from my group to show up, which was ok, because the teens running it were on the ball. Two girls were my main workers, one in charge of the cotton candy machine and one in charge of the popcorn. They were awesome. We also had some guys helping with hotdogs (pre-wrapped in foil) and water. We went through over 300 cups for water, and we ran out of hotdogs, and we ran out of popcorn twice (I found more while the last package was popping), and we had a line of 20 people (kids and adults) or more for cotton candy from 3:15 (we "started" at 3:30, but we served it as soon as it was up and going) until 5:40 (when we shut down to get ready for church at 6). I helped serve cotton candy, and got covered in it. Fun. Swing dancing was myself, Kat, Amy, and Vanessa. Kat came to church with me and so got to go dancing as well, Amy was planned, Kristin and Jeevan decided to cancel and go to dinner, and Vanessa got back from Ren Fest just as we got out of church [laughs]. It was fun, only a few people I knew, and I spent the second half being anti-social. Which has carried through to today; I'm exteremly anti-social right now. I thought I might be able to muster myself to go to jazz, but I couldn't. Nothing seems fun. No one seems particularly worth putting forth effort to hang with. If I talked to you at all today, feel special, because I meant to call everyone and didn't. I meant to make cookies; I didn't and I'm not going to. I don't know how long this will last. The funk I mean. I might hang out with Drew tomorrow night. I might do something, or anything. I might not. We'll see. There are too many words right now, none of which mean what I want to say, too many that mean more than what I want to say, all of which I'm going to sit on. Because I'm not in the mood to vomit them onto my blog today.

So, I've been a bad person. Oh, I don't mean that way. I mean that for the past week, everyone on the LifeTeen Core Team as been supposed to be contacting teens and helping plan the big K-8 grades fair that the teens are working and the LifeTeen core members are organizing. There are a bunch of things happening, including food booths, 3 moonwalks of differing sizes, a bunch of other games the details of which I don't know, and a bunch of stations where teens will be dressed as their favorite saints and will tell the younger kids about the saint as they go to that station. It's a church fair; plus, it encourages dressing up as a saint instead of a devil, ghoul, ghost, comic character or intergalactic prostitute. In terms of me being bad, I have been shirking my duty all week. I just feel that, considering the lack of communication amongst everyone (as it appears to me), I cannot contribute anything good to the effort. If I tried, I would be duplicating efforts or doing unnecessary work. And so I procrastinated it. I got up early today, so I can call people (core members) and create a spreadsheet of who is doing what (in terms of teens). And I'm going to go to church early so that I can help set up everything and organize, etc. from there.

I also found out, while researching Saint David (and not the patron saint of wales, but my namesake from the bible), I discovered (should have known) some interesting stuff. We all picture David in three roles: 1) young boy, slayer of goliath, who took on the task because the challenge (by goliath) was issued while he was there delivering supplies; 2) musician and poet, still a young boy, soothing King Saul of his bad dreams and allowing him to sleep, 3) King of Judea, who conquered Jerusalem and founded it as the capital of the land of Israel, and who coveted his neighbor's wife, sending the husband to battle to be killed so that David could marry her. However, what I did not know was that after killing goliath and soothing Saul with his music (the order of the two events has been debated), David became a boon companion of Saul's son Jonathon, who was to take the throne after Saul. However, because David was anointed by a prophet, Saul's jealousy was fairly uncontrollable.
Saul tried to kill David on several occasions, prevented by Jonathon a couple times, prevented by God directly a couple times, and finally prevented because David fled and took amnesty among the Philistines, even becoming a minor king of a Philistine city. David was only given Saul's throne because during a battle, Saul and his army were terribly defeated, Jonathon was killed, and Saul had a subordinate kill him so that he would not have to live with his failure and son's death. David mourned them, but came back to Judea and spent the rest of his days ruling by the sword. He was not accepted by all of Israel and had to conquer them, at the same time conquering nearby enemies and fending off the Philistines time and time again. And he had many many sons by many many women, and they fought and connived over who was to rule after David. Each time a son died, even if the son had been openly bringing armies against David, David mourned, so much so that one of his greater servants told him that it was improper to seem such, for it looked as though if all the people of Israel had died but his son had lived, he would have been glad. And David was put in his place and became a better king, until his later days in which he sinned by coveting his neighbor's wife and murdering her husband. And as great as David was, it was the fact that he had shed blood with his hands that prevented him from being worthy to build a temple to God in Jerusalem, so that Solomon (David's son who actually succeeded him) was given the task. From the story of David, I am struck once again by the fact that God does not give him glory because he is a sinless man, but because he is a faithful man. David always puts his trust in the Lord, even when he is sinning in sight of the Lord, and for each sin that he commits, he repents and makes penance when he is rebuked for it, usually by a prophet but once by a servant. Stories such as this remind me that while Christians today are striving for "peace", and Christ asks us to love our God and love our neighbors as ourselves, God asks us to have faith and put our trust in Him, repenting of our sins throughout our lives, not just stopping our sinfulness and becoming saints. I'd talk more, but I gotta get to work on church stuff.

Lastly, I went to the Renaissance Festival again. I went with Kat, and we were met by Courtney and her infant son James, Kat's cousin Cecile and her boyfriend Sherman, and Cecile's brother Anthony. It was fun; Cecile got juggled around, 5 torches and a machete, and a carrot sticking out of her mouth was sliced by the machete, once took off the tip, and once took off the rest of the carrot, leaving less than an inch sticking out of her mouth. heh. I won at axe throwing some more, and battle axe throwing. I suck at knife throwing, but I threw some for ya, Raph. At archery, we were using my bow, and Kat was pretty good with it. Cecile wasn't bad for having never used a bow before. And I didn't suck [laughs]. Anyway, I also got devil horns, and they look really good. Like Grace's elf ears, they can be a costume in and of themselves, with whatever I'm wearing. Kat and I went to dinner after getting back, and I still had my horns on. Two workers started conversations with us based on them [laughs]. And I got a bunch of lemons from Kat's dad; they have a tree. Yay! Ok, gotta go. Laters, blogger.

So I thought to myself, "Man, it's been a long time since you blogged, hasn't it?" And I looked at my blog, and the last date was two days ago, and I think to myself, "Wow, you're a freak if you think 2 days is a long time." But it turns out I was only quoting something, and I hadn't Actually blogged since saturday. That's more than half a week, definately a long time, especially in my life. As you well know, fairly-constant blog reader, I can talk about a couple of days for pages and pages. [laughs] Anyway, life is complicated, but isn't it always? Grace wrote, twice, and of course I didn't get them for a day because I wasn't home and awake to check it. I haven't been writing to her often enough either. Half the time, I blog assuming she'll read it, so I treat it like an email. And of course, she's often busy and doesn't get around to reading it, so it doesn't serve the purpose at all. [grins and shrugs] I know it sucks when friends have troubles, but it's been nice to be helpful in terms of talking through things for friends, because it helps me forget my own, or put them on different terms, or just get to a serious level of conversation that people so infrequently reach in normal interactions. By "people" I mean myself and everyone with whom I interact normally. I don't want to talk about their issues in my blog, but for some, I've been there but not quite, and for others, I never have and, being me, probably never will. On the Me front, I have spent a great deal of time thinking about people with positive or negative influences in my life. I was talking about it to Naomi, and she was mildly put out for me to be so blunt about the fact that she, along with most of the people I hang out with along with her, are in the "negative" category. Things that are considered "negative" and help put a person in the "negative" category: smoking around me and destroying my lungs, drinking with me and encouraging me to drink away more brain cells, living a carefree and amoral lifestyle, joking about the unavoidability of immorality or the morality of things being dependent upon circumstances, being self-centered to the point of being oblivious to others, talking about sexual exploits or fantasies in impersonal or exaggerated ways, encouraging sleeplessness, causing "drama", causing the other people with whom I'm hanging out with to obsess about "drama", and kidnapping me from church for any of the above (yes, it was a good party, though). Things that are considered "positive" and help put a person in the "positive" category: participation in anything related to religion, and encouraging others to participate in anything related to religion, not smoking and trying to encourage others to not smoke either, deciding not to drink some nights, going to bed early, having a steady job, having a steady relationship, talking about the Relationship in your steady relationship, noticing when I'm depressed and rescuing me, reminding me to get a job, asking about Grace (even if I can only answer, "I don't know, I haven't talked to her in a few days"), knowing what I mean when I say "most of my friends are really only acquaintences", having deep conversations, and kicking me out/sending me home/driving me home because you know I need to sleep even on nights when you don't. If you would like to "rate" yourself based on this list, feel free. But you know where you are. And so do I. And it makes me sad.

So, I thought to myself, "I may not feel this very often, but it's a vocabulary word that people might actually Use, so I'll put it on blogger!" This is quoted from Girlbomb:

Sarah said the other day that her friend was feeling "weltschmerz," and I asked what that was, and she said it was German for "world pain," or "world weariness" -- or, as Wikipedia says, "...[T]he feeling of sadness when thinking about the evils of the world." Also known as "awareness."

Something there is in beauty
which grows in the soul of the beholder
like a flower:
fragile--
for many are the blights
which may waste
the beauty
or the beholder--
and imperishable--
for the beauty may die,
or the beholder may die,
or the world may die,
but the soul in which the flower grows
survives.

Lena's poem, Stephen R. Donaldson

Having seen The Fog recently, and its mis-portrayal of leprosy, I was impelled to pick up and re-read The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, by Stephen R. Donaldson. The main character (of both trilogies) is a leper, and Stephen's father was a doctor who focused primarily on leprosy. He was well versed. I found myself very much associating with Thomas Covenant, sympathetic or empathetic or whatever you want to call it. He is a man who loved life, of which he had a wonderful one, and suddenly it was snatched away from him by a mystery of science. He spends his time trapped by twined rage and shame, shriven of his humanity by the scourge of alienation, powerless and desperately grasping for anything that will allow him to continue living, and (being the protagonist) eventually making his way through crimes and tragedies to be a hero (though never a heroic figure). However, having just restarted the book, I wanted to type the lecture that he is given by doctors. It may help you understand misanthropy, though mine has very little to do with his.

"Leprosy...is perhaps the most inexplicable of all human afflictions. It is a mystery, just as the strange, thin difference between living and inert matter is a mystery. Oh, we know some things about it: it is not fatal; it is not contagious in any conventional way; it operates by destroying the nerves, typically in the extremities and in the cornea of the eye; it produces deformity, largely because it negates the body's ability to protect itself by feeling nad reacting against pain; it may resul in complete disability, extreme deformation of the face and limbs, and blindness; and it is irreversible, since the nerves that die cannot be restored. We also know that, in almost all cases, proper treatment using DDS--diamino-diphenyl-sulfone--and some of the new synthetic antibiotics can arrest the spread of the disease, and that, once the neural deterioration has been halted, the proper medication and therapy can keep the affliction under control for the rest of the patient's life. What we do not know is why or how any specific person contracts the illness. As far as we can prove, it comes out of nowhere for no reason. And once you get it, you cannot hope for a cure.

"What we have learned from our years of study is that Hansen's disease creates two unique problems for the patient--interrelated difficulties that do not occur with any other illness, and that make the mental aspect of being a leprosy victim more crucial than the physical.

The first involves your relationships with your fellow human beings. Unlike leukemia today, or tuberculosis in the last century, leprosy is not, and has never been, a 'poetic' disease, a disease which can be romanticized. Just the reverse. Even in societies that hate their sick less than we Americans do, the leper has always been despised and feared--outcast even by his most-loved ones because of the rare bacillus no one can predict or control. Leprosy is not fatal, and the average patient can look forward to as much as thirty or fifty years of life as a leper. That fact, combined with the progressive disability which the disease inflicts, makes leprosy patients, of all sick people, the ones most desperately in need of human support. But virtually all societies condemn their lepers to isolation and despair--denounced as criminals and degenerates, as traitors and villains--cast out of the human race because science has failed to unlock the mystery of this affliction. In country after country, culture after culture around the world, the leper has been considered the personification of everything people, privately and communally, fear and abhor.

"People react this way for several reasons. First, the disease produces an ugliness and a bad smell that are undeniably unpleasant. And second, generations of medical research notwithstanding, people fail to believe that something so obvious and ugly and so mysterious is not contagious. The fact that we cannot answer questions about the bacillus reinforces their fear--we cannot be sure that touch or air or food or water or even compassion do not spread the disease. In the absence of any natural, provable explanation of the illness, people accoutn for it in other ways, all bad--as proof or crime or filth or perversion, evidence of God's judgement, as the horrible sign of some psychological or spiritual or moral corruption or guild. And they insist it's catching, despite evidence that it is minimally contagious, even to children. So many of you are going to have to live without one single human support to bear the burden with you.

"That is one reason why we place such an emphasis on counseling here; we want to help you learn to cope with loneliness. Many of the patients who leave this institution do not live out their full years. Under the shock of their severance, they lose their motivation; they let their self-treatments slide, and become either actively or passsively suicidal; few of them come back here in time. The patients that survive find someone somewhere who is willing to help them want to live. Or they find somewhere inside themselves the strength to endure. (my emphasis)

"Whichever way you go, however, one fact will remain constant: from now until you die, leprosy is the biggest single fact of your existence. It will control how you live in every particular. From the moment you awaken until the moment you sleep, you will have to give your undivided attention to all the hard corners and sharp edges of life. You can't take vacations from it. You can't try to rest yourself by daydreaming, lapsing. Anything that bruises, bumps, burns, breaks, scrapes, snags, pokes or weakens you can maim, cripple, or even kill you. And thinking about all the kinds of life you can't have can drive you to despair and suicide. I've seen it happen.

"That brings us to the other problem. It sounds simple, but you will find it devastating. Most people depend heavily on their sense of touch. In fact, their whole structure of responses to reality is organized around their touch. They may doubt their eyes and ears, but when they touch something they know it's real. And it is not an accident that we describe the deepest parts of ourselves--our emotions--in terms of the sense of touch. Sand tales touch our feelings. Bad situations irritate us or hurt us. This is an inevitable result of hte fact that we are biological organisms.

"You must fight and change this orientation. You're intelligent creatures--each of you has a brain. Use it. Use it to recognize your danger. Use it to train yourselves to stay alive."

So...a leper is forcibly alienated from others, with no hope of delivering death except from suicide, and loses the freedom to trust himself, while no longer having anyone upon whom he may trust. While I am forcibly alienated from others by my own inability to ignore those things which I percieve to make me unique, and each time I allow myself to be careless, while not life-threatening, takes me step by step away from being a person with whom I am not disgusted, so I cannot trust myself except through extreme conscientiousness, and I cannot trust others, not fully, because not understanding me, they cannot or will not take on part of my burden. It sounds like bullshit. Believe me, it is not. I do not have an illness that the world can see and respond to. I have a flaw which no one ever sees but I never stop feeling. I'm not a saint. I'm just willing and striving to be what no one else desires to be. Someone in whom you can trust. Someone upon whom you can place some of the weight of life and find a little succor, ease, relief or comfort. Contrary to popular belief, shrugging the weight off your shoulder does not let it go, but instead lets it fall to the floor to be dragged around by the ankle, making it harder to pick up again later. Or worse, you shrug it off onto others, unwillingly, glad for the lightened load. There is one I know who strives to never place weight on others, to always carry it herself, and for that I love her dearly. If there are others who strive for this, I do not see it in their actions. And for that reason I am a misanthropist. And I do not know if I will ever overcome it.

So, tonight I found out that I like greek olives. At least, drenched in greek salad dressing, along with lettuce and tomato, I like greek olives. It's a start [laughs]. So, tonight was going to be interesting because I needed a ride. Vanessa, before I could ask for a ride to tango, invited me to a screening of Paradise Now at one of Houston's art film theaters, the Angelika (sp?). This sounded great, and I emailed Amy to inform her that I would not be able to take her to tango, and didn't even know if I would be going to tango if she went on her own. Then I went off to get Charles for wednesday night dance class. It was a very slow evening, mostly due to many people skipping class to watch the astros defeat the cardinals and secure a place in their first ever world series. And, I wasn't sure I wanted to go anyway, and when I got there, I realized it was definately not where I wanted to be. Cassie and Michelle had a good time talking, and Kristy, Charles and Naomi had a good time playing pool. Kat was there for a short period, and Drew never showed (I found out today that he fell asleep waiting for a load of laundry in the dryer, despite his intention to come to dance class). People started leaving, and I intended to as well, but I was convinced to consider going somewhere else, by dropping the car off at home and then getting a ride from Naomi (with Kristy and Charles) to wherever we wanted to go. Well, at 10:30pm, we decided to go to the beach. Despite my fears that I would be a drag, I ended up having to be the designated driver back; Naomi had a bottle of sangria and Charles and Kristy split a 12 pack of bud (eww). And the trip went really well. I love riding on boats (ferries), and I love waves at night, and I love moonlight and cold wind, and good conversations with good people, and being salty and sandy and tired wasn't too bad because of the trade-off of all those other things. So I ended up being cheered, and we all had a good time. I slept in, and woke up to get on the computer and talk to people, including Grace (yay!). Then Vanessa called, and she had decided that the movie screening was too much of a hassle, especially since she was either going out to dinner with a friend (and probably myself and the friend's girlfriend) or with her mom (which would not include me, unless I wanted to try to keep up with their fairly fluent french). She called again later to inform me that she was going to do dinner with her mother. Before I got around to calling Amy for a ride to tango, Vanessa called back saying she was in a bad mood, canceled dinner with her mom, and was going to dinner with me, and then tango. I jumped in the shower, and she picked me up, and we went out for greek food. I gave Amy a call, since if she wanted to come to dinner with us, she could come to tango with us, but I didn't get a hold of her. She called while we were at the restaurant, but that's downtown so [shrugs] nothing to be done. We split a greek platter sampler, with greek salads and some bread that Vanessa says is usually better...it appeared to have been cooked long enough to rise and fall and bake a little more, so too thin and crispy. It still tasted great, and the salad was good, and I liked the food on the sampler, especially the green beans, which tasted as though they'd been sitting in meatball juice and were super excellent. Blah blah, then we went to tango, which was fairly dead. A few people showed up, and I tried out my new jazz shoes, and they work really well. I'm going to have to get used to stepping differently, but otherwise I was getting great connections with the floor and pretty good connections with my dance partners (Vanessa and Joy). I was invited to several things this weekend by Susana, but my work schedule and my not having a car for social things will make it almost impossible to go to anything. [laughs and shrugs] I really like hanging out with Vanessa. She got degrees in business admin and french, is a private teacher for french and english (though she hates it), travels a lot, is a converted Catholic and has considered being a nun (except for the whole following orders thing), and she represents a slice of humanity that isn't currently represented in my close friends. Oh, and Miles is going to give me info about a dance festival in Austin in November that I'm supposed to go to. Irina invited me to it last summer, but I don't have info about it. Life goes on, life keeps changing and surprising me, people keep surprising me in good and bad ways, and I keep disappointing myself and yet keeping hope. Same old, same old. Au revoir, until again, blogger.

"(PS: If they do wind up giving it to somebody else, I say we team up and go Harding on them. TONYA Harding, that is -- not Warren G. Harding. Which would entail, what, enforcing Prohibition on them?)" - Girlbomb

So, I bit the wrong end of the snake. I went out to Michelle's yesterday, carpet cleaner didn't work that well, watched some CSI and baseball, then headed out to Jazz, which was good, met a new friend, met someone from a party a while back, blah blah. I like the earlier jazz better. I was invited to join Naomi and Kristy (and Corinne and Jake it turned out) for hanging out and watching a movie. I ended up hanging out all night, and I didn't call in the morning to say where I was or that I was ok, and dad got really pissed. I'm old enough to do what I want, but not with their cars, without making sure that they weren't needed for something important, and especially not assuming I can do whatever I want with their cars. So I think I can drive to midnight rodeo tomorrow, since my carpool is generally what allows a good number of people to go, but for the next week I can't use the car for anything but work. I can do what I want...if I can get a ride. [sighs] It's totally fair, the cars are theirs, and I do realize that I was irresponsible about not calling and deserve some punishment for it. I'm not mad. I'm just whining [laughs]. So right now my brain is running through all the possible situations so that everything can still work out. I'm fine with complicated; just, most other people aren't. So now who can drive whom and who is willing to drive whom becomes an aspect of the drama. [sighs again] But, on the positive end of the karmic circle, Vanessa and I went to pray the rosary today, which was very nice, and we're going to do it again thursday (unless scheduling doesn't work out), and we're going to try to do it once a week from now on. It's so refreshing to have friends that are positive influences, because I'm generally the positive influence among negative influences. I mean, they kidnapped me from church, for crying out loud. I understand wanting the party to happen earlier, but I didn't want to miss LifeTeen for partying. It's more important than that to me. Once it had happened, I went ahead and enjoyed the party, and I don't regret it. But still. Kat reading bible verses to me now and then is nice in a soul-lifting way. And having this excuse to pray the rosary with Vanessa, so she doesn't fall asleep doing it alone, is nice in the same way. So, I'm grounded, and God continues to work in mysterious ways. And Life goes on.

So I had a good birthday party after all...after church, I went over to the other building where LifeTeen is held, and Charlie (the youth minister) sent me into the back room to get him a soda. I turn to the right, and I'm immediately tackled by one person, while someone else puts a cloth bag over my head, and a third handcuffs my hands in front of my face. I think, oh great, some teens are going to embarass me. Then, I recognized Charles' (best friend) voice, and I think, "oh crap, they're taking me somewhere." A group including Charles, Jake, Drew, Matt and coworker James, all wearing panty-hose over their heads, hustle me out through the LifeTeen building, out the side door, around front across the patio also full of teens (some of whom were screaming, despite Charles trying to sing happy birthday so people would know what was going on), and they put me in the trunk of Matt's car, and drove away. For future reference, don't make kidnapping drives too long. It was really hot in there, and by the end of it, I was almost sick to my stomach, having trouble breathing. I make it sound terrible, but really, I was just pissed because I had a new techno cd in my car, and they were blasting some crap [sighs and laughs] No, and the last 5 minutes were bad. I had to start regulating my breathing, to prevent some of the nausea and/or hyperventilating. [laughs] We ended up going to Michelle's apartment (she had planned the whole thing, kudos to her, and enlisted the help of everyone; kidnapping me from church was a decision made on sunday, because they couldn't get me up to work because of church) where there was a good party, a lot of people were drunk. Michelle had to kick us out because she had work in the morning, which was ok, because we expected it, so the party moved to Naomi's apartment (the three drivers were not drunk, so don't worry about that), where it continued for a good long time. I think I grabbed everyone's butt except Naomi's brother's, because I just met him that night. I think James' response was the funniest. People left a couple of times, and people giving other people rides came back, and the party morphed a little each time but stayed cool. I ended up watching The Jacket, which stars Adrian Brody and Kiera Knightly (sp?), a very strange movie but very good, and I recommend it to people who enjoy movies that make you think. The only real negative to the evening was that Jake almost got jumped while moving Naomi's car; a guy came up behind him and put a knife to his side, demanding the car keys. Jake slammed his heel down on the guy's foot, headbutted him, and took off running, getting a few small pokes in the side and a small cut in his shirt. But the car was not stolen, and jake wasn't seriously injured or killed, of which we are very glad. Good guardian angels [smiles]. But he was shaken up a lot; when he got back to the apartment and locked the door, he was almost crying, worrying so much about his son, who almost lost his daddy. It didn't ruin the party, which was slowly coming to an end anyway because of time and untimely puke, but it put a twist on the end of it, thoughts of mortality and such, that helped us enjoy the end of the party that much more. Anyway, blogger, life goes on and people need to be called, so I will update you more later. au revoir, until again. And no, no matter how much other people want to, we are Not going to repeat that party as often as possible. [laughs]

oh, and look at today's Nine Chickweed Lane (www.chickweed.com) (10/16). it's good.

So, it's my birthday. blah blah. Also, I just spent the last 3 hours or so writing down a dream I had last night, posted on my livejournal site. www.livejournal.com/users/seventh_guest/ So go read it. I need to get to lifeteen homework, so I'll talk to you later's blogger. so far, birthday presents I've gotten are: pants from drew, dance shoes from mom/dad, undershirts from mom/dad, new pocketwatch from me, new Ian Van Dahl (techno) cds from me, and a slice of naomi's mom's leftover birthday cake, and a new park to wander around in now and then from Kristy. Amy and others know about my birthday, so I expect something at LifeTeen, but I don't know what. heh. [shrugs]
David

So, today's headline is "Expectations, Some Broken, Some Confirmed". Mom and I went shoe shopping for birthday present dance shoes. I totally expected to shop several places to find the cheapest price for the brand of ballroom shoes everyone gets...instead, at our first stop, the ballroom shoes (capezios, if you don't know) sucked. I mean, they were good quality, the shoes I expected, but the heels are slippery, and I could not get used to stepping to the side because the heel got in the way, even when I was on my toes. I mean, I've gotten used to turns in which I use my heel to stop, and I can't do that in those shoes. Well, the lady was really cool, and suggested I try jazz shoes. They were actually awesome...felt like I was barefoot with a heel, a half inch heel like I wanted, not the full inch ballroom heel. I need to learn to tie them so they don't bunch up, but otherwise I really like them. Anyway, I also got my paycheck from work, and Charles still hasn't told me yes or no to rennaissance festival tomorrow. I asked him if it was still the case that he needed to see his paycheck before deciding, and he didn't answer...I got my paycheck and matt's; charles already had his. [sighs] his answer is going to be no, I know it. It's not that he's cheap, it's that he doesn't have money to cover things all the time. He still tries to go out and have fun, but I think even if he decided to go to ren fest, it would cause troubles somewhere else. [shakes his head] I just don't know anyone else to go with, and as much fun as I may have going solo and randomly making friends (as always), it won't be as much fun as if someone goes with me. plus the crazy long drive both ways. blah blah. I need to plan my birthday party. I want to have a good party. I'm going to end up either going out and doing nothing new, or having no one show up. [sighs] Because I suck at planning parties. laters, blogger. I need to make some calls.

(I tried to post this last night, but my internet was acting up...turned out I had half-unplugged my internet cable when I pulled my keyboard to my lap [laughs])

Why is it that after I've written a long update blog, and I'm sitting around for a while, the desire to blog returns forcefully? Perhaps it's because my brain doesn't stop [laughs]. So, for anyone looking, this is not my "finally he blogged again!" blog. That's below this one. The 5 page one. You can't miss it. Maybe I'm just always dying for a good conversation. It's sad how on aim you always trail off or have to leave. There are rarely really good aim conversations that last for a long time, unless you haven't spoken recently, and when they do, they never end when they end. There is no Hang-Up-Goodbye for no reason other than the conversation is over. No, your window stays open, sort of hanging in midair, waiting for someone to think of something else to say. It's awkward, and pathetically hopeful, and depressing. I don't know, I'm tired and stupid, but still want to talk. About nothing. About anything. Aim is always the bottom of the attention totem pole. Anything else can so easily interrupt it. My brain hurts, and my eyes sometimes go dizzy. I'm probably going to need to start wearing my glasses whenever I'm in front of the computer. I don't know. I miss having friends I can talk to all the time. I hate sharing people. I know, blogger, I'm a selfish bastard underneath my selfless caring exterior. I want people all to myself when I'm talking to them, so I can talk to them, and they talk to me, and I don't have to deal with people talking to other people about things that they think don't interest me (because everything interests me if you think it's interesting), and I don't have to put up with being excluded, verbally or physically. When there are only two people, the orientation is always toward the other person. There's no over-the-middle-person's-shoulder awkwardness of 3 in a row; there's no someone-shifted-and-now-I'm-outside awkwardness of a circle of people; there's no best friend or significant other who gets dibs on the other person's attention. [sighs] I want to lie on my back in the grass, looking at the stars, talking to someone who is listening to me, listening to someone who is talking to me, lying in silence near someone who is as consciously aware of my presence as the stars we're looking at. I want non-verbal communication to mean something. I want to be talking to someone who is paying enough attention to notice my non-verbal communication, even if they don't understand it. I want to talk to someone that doesn't swim in the shallow waters when the deeper waters have already been opened to them. I know why people do it. Move too fast in relationships. Infidelity. It's because we all want so desperately to feel loved that we're willing to put up with crap in between those moments, willing to snatch those moments from whomever we can whenever we can, willing to lie to ourselves and others about our own feelings and others' feelings toward us. I have always felt most strongly the pull of friend-love, agape if you want, that feeling of being on the same wavelength with someone else. Some people feel most strongly the pull of eros, sexual attraction, or filia, that comfort that comes most naturally with family but is not exclusive to it. I say "we" do this and "we" do that because I'm a member of the human race. I am faithful to my beloved one, Grace. I remember her always. I do not act in ways I think will hurt her, and that is all I can do. Because even when one has a beloved, there will always be opportunities for moments in which to feel loved by someone else. That love is not what is wrong, but the actions that we feel compelled to do, those actions which we must have willpower and a sense of responsibility in order to not do. Of course the natural inclination is toward that joy of feeling loved! Oh foolish humanity, your fate was determined by your inability to resist the apple. Now we know pain and fear and death. Now we feel alone and directionless and dying. Now we desperately long for love and purpose and life. Now we desperately need balm and ease and rebirth. I am fortunate in my friends; in all honesty, it is they who save me when I do not wish to save myself, my safety net when I fall or leap. If you are struck by pangs of jealousy, know that I am yours, and they know it, and help me remain yours. I have no jealousy, for I wish for you anything in the world that makes you happy, even if it is that which I deny myself for you. If I eat of this bread, I shall hunger again. If I eat of the bread that you give me, I shall hunger no more. When I am with you, I am not hungry. When I am far from you, it is as if my stomach were empty and yet I am not hungry. I merely know that it is empty and desire to fill it. I'm sorry for my sacrilege. I have the entire english language, all the words in all possible orders, and yet it is those phrases which already have meaning that feel to me a better offering to you. ...other times there are no words that will mean what I want to say. I love you. I'm sorry blogger, but everyone should know, everyone who cares who I am should know what is important to me. I don't use this public journal because I'm an exhibitionist. I don't want all the strangers to know everything about me. I just want to be understood. I want to be able to speak about things and not be rejected, skimmed over, judged and thrown away. And I don't even know if anyone reads this except Grace and my mom. I don't see it in the way you speak to me. I don't see it in the way you act toward me. It's as if, having seen a great light, you close your eyes, put on sunglasses and walk around with a cane, feeling your way in self-imposed darkness, so as not to have to acknowledge it, so as not to acknowledge yourself or your relationship with me. I'm just another person. I'm just some guy you dance with, you drink with, you talk to now and then. Some guy you never tried to understand. What about your best friend, fellow blogger? What about your significant other? What about your parents? Your kids? Do you know them? Do you try to understand them when they reach out, desperately wanting to feel loved but unsure of what to say, to do? Or do you assume you know them, smile and close your eyes to the truth that you can help them to be happy, and aren't? I wish...[laughs] sometimes there are these little emails that go out, spam of sorts, saying to send this back if you are my friend, or send this to all the people you want to sleep with and see who sends it back, or send this out to everyone to show that you care about this thing, and if they send it back they care about it too. It's so much balony, because some people do them all, and some people (like myself) do none of them. It's like sending a birthday card without a note inside, just a signature. But maybe to some people they are meaningful. Some people actually fill out surveys about themselves wanting people to read them and know them, the way I blog my heart out here. They are usually such stupid questions, and the answers are like sprinkles atop icecream, flavorful but tasting them does not tell you what the icecream tastes like. I don't know. I've blogged too much and need to sleep. Just...don't forget that friends are supposed to be the people that care. I don't mean your friends caring about you; you can't change your stupid friends. I mean, you should care about them. Even if you don't care about me, even if you don't know me, I know you have friends, and you probably ought to be caring about them a little more than you are.

Well, blogger, I will apologize in advance for the long post. You know how I like to talk about what is going on in my life...in detail...at the same time that I am talking about what is important to me. I will paragraph break the days since last wednesday, which is worth mentioning, despite that it was thursday at which point I stopped having free time like time to sleep and such [laughs].

Wednesday I had no work, and the plan was to pick up Kristy at 5:30, then head over to pick up Drew for dinner and midnight rodeo. Well, Kristy and I changed our plan and I went over in the early afternoon (1ish?) and we went to the mall window-shopping, then she made me watch The Ghost and Mr. Chicken, starring the guy from the Andy Griffith show, the one so good at looking awkward. Drew's plans changed because he had to work on something starting around 4, and stay there working until it was done, and he had no idea when it would end. Jake and Corinne needed rides as well (which was not really unexpected), and Drew sounded as though he would drive himself to dance class, whenever he got the chance. However, he changed plans, and instead of going home, went to my house after work (much closer to work and midnight rodeo) to shower and change into clothes he bought at Walmart on the way. I met him there, with Kristy, Jake and Corinne in tow, and I recieved an early birthday present: plaid pants. They're brown primarily, and they're khaki-pants material, so comfortable, and I was forced to wear them. Actually, they did look good. They still aren't my first choice of pants, but I can see myself wearing them again (which I would not do so if I hadn't worn them that first time). Anyway, midnight rodeo was midnight rodeo, with lots of people, and craziness, and whatever. The rest of the night was less memorable, except that Michelle brought a whole lot of coworkers this week, and she and Drew spent a lot of time talking and having fun. I had fun, but not memorable fun [laughs]. I much preferred the friend-time with Kristy earlier in the day, as midnight rodeo has gotten too hectic to be considered "hanging out" with anyone. On the drive home, I noticed that the brakes felt a little funny. Considering that they have been squeeling continuously for the past couple months (not just when braking), I didn't deem it "pull off the road and stop driving" important, but wanted to wake up the next day and get the brakes looked at finally. However...

Thursday I slept in, and when I woke up, mom was already gone out on errands and whatnot. I hit myself for not getting the brakes taken care of, but figured it would be ok. I proceeded to get on the computer, then mow the yard, and when I finished mowing, there was a message from mom. The car had started making horrible horrible noises, and she took it to brake check. Something besides the brake pads had gone out, and the alignment of the brakes had been off anyway. Half of each pad was worn, while the other half was dusty...eek! Anyway, I worked from 7-9pm doing dishes for a party, and I had to have Matt come pick me up while I showered. After work, I was picked up, got home, walked in and called Amy to see if she wanted to do tango, she did, I picked her up, and we went. Crossroads, at 10:30ish...we were the 4th and 5th people to get there, one not a dancer, closely followed by Vanessa. So, it was Derek and Miles, Amy and I, and Vanessa, and the father and son who run it wednesday nights. We had good talking, good dancing, but they kicked us out early at 11:25 to take advantage of the slow night to close early. It was very nice, and while I wouldn't say Worth the drive, I enjoyed it and would have done it again. I got home at 12:45.

Friday, I was woken at 8am to help mom take the cat to the vet. No problem, we have it streamlined. I just stood up out of bed, slipped on sandals, then picked up the cat from my bed, wrapped him in the blanket he was sleeping on, and carried him to the car. [laughs] I sleep in clothes, silly! We got home at 9:30. I prepared for the day and went to pick up Kat at 10:45, to take her to her mom's office so her mom could drive her to the airport. However, her mom hadn't had time to get lunch, so we had to get lunch, meaning Little Caesar's pizza. Back at the office, I got to chat with Kat's mom's coworkers; I think they prefer Raph to me, because he's an aggie, and they're mostly married to aggies. Oh, and the fact that they hope he and Kat get married doesn't hurt his case. [laughs] I went grocery shopping for ingredients (more on that later), and I got home at 1:30; I had to leave at 2:30 to get Ian at school at 3:15. I got there shortly after 3, and he was already waiting, because whatever would have kept him 15 minutes didn't happen. However, I had to go talk to the guidance counselor secretary for mom, so we didn't get out of there till 3:20 anyway. I drove him home, speeding, and dropped him off, leaving immediately to pick up Michelle to take her to the airport. Traffic sucked more on the first half than the second half, so we were worried, but it turned out alright. I got keys and gate-clicker for her apartment to house-sit. She told me where to find the catfood and how often they are fed, and we laughed about the party with strippers that I was not allowed to have (and would not have had anyway...and did not have, if you were wondering). I got home in time to check email, sit down to dinner (steak), shower, and run off to midnight rodeo before 9 so I could get in for free. This was Cassie's party celebrating that her divorce is finally final, and unfortunately, she only had 3 friends show up. There were a bunch of family members, and dance class people that always come on fridays, and all the strangers, but still. A funny story: There were two girls talking very familiarly with our dance teachers (there socially on fridays), and nobody knew who they were. Being curious, I went up, greeted our teachers, were introduced to the girls, chatted, brought them back to my friends (as always [laughs]), etc. Swing music came on, so I turned to one of them, and asked, "Do you swing?" and she replied, "I'm married." I said, "Um...dance?" and she replied, "Oh, no, I'm not drunk enough to dance yet." Some people heard this exchange, but not the whole group (including the other girl). I turn to the other girl and ask, "Would you like to swing?" and she replies, "Um...well, sure." Someone adds, "Dance?" and she says, "Oh, no, not dancing. Sorry." [laughs] Yah, totally the wrong crowd. They headed out shortly after, and we waved but didn't talk again. Anyway, Drew ended up leaving at 12:15 because he was really tired from working all week, and I headed out at 12:45. I left a party early! Yes, true, no lie. I was exhausted from all that driving, and I wasn't enjoying the evening. I went to Michelle's to feed her cats, opened the door...and the alarm beeped at me. Crap, I didn't know the code! I called her real fast, but not fast enough; I had to jump back out the door when the alarm started screaming at me. And then she wasn't there. Ugh! I tried two more times, waiting outside for a couple minutes, then sitting in the car until either it went off on its own or a police officer arrived. It finally turned off on its own, and I headed home (after re-locking the door, of course). (It turns out that a friend from A&M might have been there and turned it off...it would have been nice to know that before hand! [sighs and shrugs]) She called and gave me the code as I was turning onto my street. [rolls his eyes] I got to sleep around 1:45.

Saturday I had work at 8:30, before which I had to feed the cats. It was a long day, but I could have gotten out of there at 4:05...except that mom and I had expected me to be working until 5, and she had to drop Ian at school at 4:30, and if she picked me up before taking him, I would have been in the car for the ride anyway and saved no time. So she picked me up around 5, with me running around alternating 3 things: looking out the window hoping she'd show, talking to Sophia and Bill in the pro-shop, and chopping vegetables to save time at home. I went ahead and diced up 2 red onions and 2 green bell peppers (at separate times, because I didn't want mom to be waiting on me) to save time dicing the ones I had at home. I brought back to work the ones I had at home on monday (I forgot on sunday). I got home and immediately began cooking enchiladas. First the meat (1 1/2 pounds lean ground beef and a pound of ground sirloin, mixed together because I was in a rush) browned in a big pot, while mom did dishes to clear space and I diced two more peppers, an orange one and a yellow one. Drain the meat, add all peppers and onions, 2 cans rotel tomatoes, 1 small can of finely chopped olive, 2 cans of enchilada sauce, 1 red and 1 green, and 2 pounds of grated cheddar. I may be forgetting something, but I let it all stew, stirred half the time, seasoned with coriander (my favorite), garlic and something else that mom thought wouldn't work but totally did. It ended up being enough for 3 pans-worth (1 big glass pan, 1 smaller glass pan, and one foil to-go pan) and a little left over for mom to eat as soup. I used another green sauce and a big can of red sauce for the tortillas and pouring on top, along with 4 pounds of grated 4-cheese blend. I got directions online to Vanessa's for her birthday party...and she lives 2 minutes from my church! (I met her downtown, for tango, so that is ironic). I then ran out the door, with instructions for mom to cook it long enough to melt the cheese, taking the big glass pan and the to-go pan to cook at her house. The party was very fun, but was half tango-people and half non-dancers [laughs] We socialed well but still tended to segregate. My enchiladas were one of many dishes, including fresh crab, fancy tortillini, a noodle dish, deviled eggs, and assorted candies, chips and veggies with various sauces in which to dip the latter two. Her parents are Iranian, but spent a significant amount of time in France, so her dad is highly skilled in french cuisine. Everything was delicious! So, the languages spoken at the party: english, french, farsi, and russian. And the crowd went through a lot of margaritas and sodas, but not as much hard alcohol as they had expected. Oh, and to note, I was the second youngest person there...the youngest was a 5-year old...until Dima, the guy who works at Crossroads, arrived at 1am (he's a couple years younger than me). It was different and nice. Oh, and her father, when it is cold out, always has a fire going in the back on weekends. So, being me, I was out by the fire a lot of the time, and playing with the toy pool table a lot of the time, socializing. The 5 year old learned some pool and some fire safety...his mother (Angela, whom I met at the tango pianist concert a while back) had not intended to get him into either. [laughs] Anyway, when the party was wrapping up around 2:30, I took the to-go box enchiladas out of the fridge (we hadn't needed them; there was a serving and a half left in the glass pan) and turned back on the oven. Vanessa's father and AJ, the other person who stayed to the very end, thought I was joking [laughs] but no, I cooked them and took them to midnight rodeo (got there at 3:15, speeding a lot) for the staff, closing up. I hope it got warm all the way through, but I won't know till I talk to them tomorrow. Then I went and fed the cats (and scooped the cat box, because it looked bad), and got home and asleep by 4:15.

Sunday, I had work at 8:30. I was in charge, with James the new guy. It was totally dead the first half of the day, so much so that we were worried about getting in trouble for having 2 people there. Then, at 12:15 or so, we got slammed, and James and I were on line solidly till 2:15 (we like to start cleaning up around 2 on normal days, 3 on saturdays, because we're open an extra hour). But we totally handled the rush, and we were very proud of ourselves. Turned out it was the baseball game, Astros vs. Braves, that attracted more than half of our lunch rush. The game highlights of our team (Astros) included a grand slam homerun at some point, and then in the bottom of the 9th, 2 outs, 2 strikes, a homerun scoring two runs that tied the game, and then the game went to a record-breaking 18th inning, in which one of our rookies hit a homerun to win the game. And, another crazy aspect of the game, the same person caught the grand slam homerun ball and the game-ending homerun ball, both of which he donated to the hall of fame because they were record-breakers. Most of this I did not learn until later, because I got home from work just in time to change, gather materials, and head to church for a meeting with my LifeTeen planning sub-group, then church, then swing dancing at the Melody club. However, Amy's friends ended up either not getting back to her or not being able to go, and the other LifeTeen core members that I invited didn't come to that mass, so we had to go without them, picking up Vanessa on the way. We ended up getting there halfway through the swing lesson, nothing I didn't know but good for both girls, and I was right in needing my checkbook [grins at having the forethought to take it]. Stefan and Lisa were both there; Lisa left early, Stefan stayed late, along with Aramus and Haley (the co-presidents of the Rice Swing Dance Society), and the 6 of us went to a place called Mama's for dinner (mostly american and mexican food). I had a burger, a side of corn, and a strawberry shake; they were all good. However, we realized the time too late to get Amy home on time (midnight), and the check took forever. In the parking lot, Aramus showed us a move to literally sweep a girl off her feet into your arms. Stefan tried it on Vanessa, and I tried it on Haley and Vanessa (it was harder for me to get, besides my hesitency to try lifts). Aramus did it to an unsuspecting Amy, who was mad but expected to be set down...but was passed to Stefan, who passed her to me. She was mad, but expected me to set her down. I almost did, but in the spirit of fun (oh how you make fools of us!), I passed her back to Aramus. At this point, she realized she'd have to fight, and she struggled, was half-dropped, landing on her feet but off-balance, and ended up falling and scraping her hand in getting away. At this point, I was mentally beating myself for stupidity. We left shortly after, and she had to talk away the edge of her anger. I don't feel bad about the anger (which goes away) or the cut hand (which heals), but I broke her trust, and that's something that doesn't heal, never entirely, and I really wish I hadn't. I mean, it may seem a minor incident, blogger, but trust is all in a person's perception. There is a saying, "if a dog bites you once, it's the dog's fault; twice, it's your fault." It applies to everything, and it is the person's own perception of what is considered "bitten", because even something which seemed minor to us may be considered a bite by someone else, and once they feel that way, then they are less-trustful: cautious, fearful at times, suspicious at other times, less-free, less-open. In general, it sucks. In particular, it's something that I know personally, from both sides, and wish on no one, and strive to avoid with all the foresight I have. My actions for the past 3 1/2 years have been directly influenced by a trust that I broke, because she did not deserve it, and I wanted a relationship in which there was no mistrust, and I feel that I have not been perfect, but that I have not broken that trust again. This is another situation in which I value Amy's relationship, which could most accurately be described as big-brotherly, in all the positive connotations, and so now I have to strive to not break her trust again. [sighs] men are scum or idiots. mantra: men are scum or idiots... Anyway, so I got Amy home by 12:45, and Vanessa home by 1. We stood outside talking for a while, and the car started making "why have I been idling this long!" noises, so I turned it off and we went inside to talk, ending up talking till 4am [laughs]. I crossed the threshold of her doorway just as the clock started chiming 4, in fact. I love good conversations. If you know me personally (or can gather from how I blog), I can talk all day and night, talking myself hoarse if (when) I get the chance. [laughs] Home and asleep by 4:30.

Monday, I had work at 8:30. [laughs] Yes, I know, I'm stupid and/or insane. I also had to feed the cats before work, since I hadn't done it sunday night. I was working with Charles, so I thought "no problem" with the few things we needed to do. Oh, no, of course not. Charles came in, really out of it, with personal problems. He wouldn't really talk about it, but he was having issues with Amber, his girlfriend, or something. I'm not quite sure what. He made the soup (thankfully!) and messed with the salads, and he helped me on line when we were busy (twice), but lucky for us both that it was raining and we had very little business, so he didn't really need to focus on work, and I didn't really need him to either. He did the order (distractedly [sighs] so a couple things weren't right; it's ok, with all the stuff you have to keep track of, and the 4 different people/businesses we order from, I'm just glad he does it as well as he does. Two mistakes when his mind was totally elsewhere isn't that bad) and then left early, getting picked up by Amber, despite his wanting to be alone the rest of the day. Blah blah, mom picked me up, and I had to take her home, dropping her at the driveway and leaving straight to get Michelle from the airport. I took Michelle by Randalls for groceries, so she could cook dinner, since she was cooking dinner for Drew (their second date, if you will...I'm not quite sure what is going on there, since neither will talk about it much), and I got a gift of variety liquor-filled chocolates of Michelle's all-time favorite brand (local to Vegas, I forget the name). I went ahead and headed home and sat down for somewhere between 30 and 45 minutes, consolidating phone numbers into my phone/address file and the cell phone's contacts list. No one wanted to go to jazz with me (Kat is out of town with Raph; she's the reason I found the jazz in the first place. I like jazz, but I probably wouldn't have gone last week if not for her, and if not last week, I wouldn't have gone this week) so I took my book and went alone. It was very enjoyable, alternately sitting reading or sitting relaxing to experimental jazz. The group last week was a drummer, an upright bass, and an acoustic guitar. This week was the same drummer and bass player, who play together all the time, and a saxophonist with whom they rarely work it sounded. He had 2 sax's, alto and tenor or bari if I had to guess, though I have no real idea, and he had a recorder, and something that looked like a wooden flute with a sax mouth. He was pretty good at playing, playing two simultaneously at points, and using the recorder, flute-thing and/or a water bottle as a mute half the time. Unfortunately, he wasn't that good at working with the other two, so the pieces that they had practiced, or that were showcasing him, were better. He got better by the end of the night. Afterward, there was a more mainstream jazz band upstairs that may be more what Kat is interested in, but wasn't my style really. They sounded like something that would play in a salsa club, almost, with a sax, drums, keyboard, electric bass, and a mixer or recorder (couldn't tell which) off to the side. I liked the freedom of rhythm and tempo of the downstairs (first) group, and didn't like the upstairs (second) group well enough to stay for more than 2 songs. I got home and went straight to bed at 12:15.

And Tuesday, this morning, I worked at 8:30, with Matt, a good and fairly normal truck-delivery day, looking forward to coming home and doing nothing [laughs]. At work, I was talking with Matt and got disgusted with him. No, it wasn't with him, I realized a little later, but with society and people in general. I put up with so much in other people, immorality and amorality that I wouldn't accept in myself, vices and foibles and character flaws that I try my best to look beyond. It's so hard though. It's funny what some people find "untolerable". At the restaurant after swing dancing, there was a discussion about what level of service warrants an extra-good tip and what warrants a bad tip. Aramus asked me which I found more insulting, no tip or an intentionally tiny tip like small coins. To me, it's no tip, because I would never not tip; it's part of their salary. For me to not tip would be like throwing down the guantlet; it would not happen because of merely poor service, and it would not happen because of bad service from only a single person, and I would never eat there again. Aramus and Stefan were going back and forth talking about how if the server doesn't come refill his water without asking, or ask at least once if he's doing alright, the server doesn't deserve a full tip. I remember a while back, Kat was talking about smokers, saying, "It's not that I won't put up with it, it's that I shouldn't have to put up with it." But what a person should have to put up with and what a person does have to put up with is determined by social consensus, which is self-centered and hedonistic and ultimately self-destructive. I agree, people are deserving of pity for their vices and mistakes, but that does not condone the action(s). I agree, judging people is snobby of me...but I can't just accept everything. I do because I'm nice. I don't have to. I shouldn't have to. Too often do people say, "I couldn't help it," or,"it's not my problem," or, "it's not my decision," or, "it's not my responsibility." Yah, and that's why I despise you. Because you won't take responsibility for the fact that you influence other people, allowing them to fall because it's fun for you, allowing yourself to give in to stupidity and then, knowingly, outside of the situation in which you became stupid, continuing to act stupidly. [sighs] I understand, and I've been there. Your brain stops functioning, and you want to stop and hold it all at arm's length so you can see from a perspective that might help you see how to undo the damage, get to a better situation, but there's no such thing, so you agonize over a decision for which you already know what you want to do but can't. But no, I'm talking about two different things. If you don't know, don't ask. But men are scum or idiots. I despise the first and pity the second. Women are more complex, but they still fall into general categories of despiccable and pitiable. So few, men or women, that fall into neither fully, walking the thin line between them, doing the impossible balancing act that makes them lovable. I'm not depressed, blogger. I just wish people weren't so fucked up.

"What'd you want."
"Just to live a normal life."
"There's no normal life, Wyatt. There's just life. Now get on with it."
"Don't know how."
"Sure you do. Say goodbye to me. Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty and run. Don't look back. Live every second. Live right up the hill. Live, Wyatt. Live for me. Wyatt, if you were ever my friend, if you ever had the slightest feeling for me, leave now. Leave now. Please."

excuse me for lack of details tonight, blogger, but I am exceedingly tired. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I don't want to forget you. Saturday was reading my book and talking to Natalie, then midnight rodeo (had fun) followed by a pool party that was broken up by the apartment security guard before it had really started, even though we were quiet, and I ended up driving everyone home, crowding the car a bit. Then, with cars picked up at midnight rodeo, we hit Denny's and got home at 7ish. I woke up at 2:15, then to church for LifeTeen. highlights: the skit had me running around, pretending to be weeping, bleeding, one-armed, with heavy burdens, and drunk (added one after another in that order). The ice-breaker involved throwing bags of m&ms at the kids, and playing the game "guess what color the candy is" in anticipation of a talk on diversity and not judging people. Small group, I totally covered what we were supposed to cover (I'm awesome) but way too fast. they wouldn't shut up, which is a good thing, but incidentally also wouldn't stop throwing and/or flicking m&ms and wrappers at each other. They were given wooden blocks and told to write judgements made and recieved on them, then given nails to symbolize how christ was put on the cross by people who judged him. I discovered that the floor dents easily, as my group tried to get their nails hammered all the way in as quickly as possible. Anyway, the night ended talking to Kristy, finishing my book, being up late enough to be on when Grace got on, and getting to sleep way too late. Then, today was work with Charles, then going downtown to pick up Kat, wandering around Rice U (near where I tango) window shopping, then Italian for dinner (the turkish place is closed on mondays, much to my disappointment and Kat's relief; she hadn't felt adventurous in terms of food today), then to Jazz at Helios, but we were early, so we stopped at Half-price books, and I got several things, including these little matching bibles, one in english the other in french, and Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable which has all sorts of cool definitions for things. For example, "aback" comes from a nautical term where the sail gets blown back into the mast and prevents the ship from moving forward, and Abaton is a term for a place of antiquity that is hard to reach, coming from Greek terms for "not" and "I go". Very cool [laughs]. The jazz was great, an upright bass, an acoustic guitar, and drums. Very experimental in rhythm, a little too much drums sometimes, but still great. we had to leave early because both too tired. plan to go there often. Off to bed, blogger. sleep well. dream of sweet and wonderful things.