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Productive.

One of the finer feelings in life… And one that I’ve experienced today for the first time in a while.

Got my billing sheets done today, which is always a pain, but I got ’em done on the first of the month, no less. Finished up the Chancellor’s State of the Univerisity webpage–nice to have that done. And after I got home I got some car time in. Took it slow, didn’t get frustrated or frazzled or lacerated, and almost finished preparing for the engine pull this weekend. I got off the driveshaft, the speedo cable to the transmission, the clutch slave cylinder, drained the tranny fluid, removed the shifter, and disconnected the wiring harness from the ECU and draped it over the engine (way easier than I thought it was going to be–I love Toyotas). And I also love inline sixes. Ridiculous amount of room to work around the engine. It’s going to be a snap. Of course, I say that, and it never is, but this is my fifth engine pull, so I think I have a pretty good bead on when things are going to go well. Thank you God.

Time for some cleaning, then a run, then goodnight.

Fifty thousand little things to do… I’m slowly going nuts. Today and tomorrow will make or break this week… Since I have the Gazette this week, the first couple of days really define whether I’m going to be there late or not. Eck. Work.

Edit (2:50): Got a few more little things taken care of… If people would call me back life would be easier, though. Okay I’ll stop. It’s not doing me or anyone else any good to rant about work. I just feel like the stress levels in all areas of my life are really high at the moment–work, cars, youth group, not so much friends, but the stress tends to spill over into that area as well and I find myself feeling guilty about not spending as much time with them as I should, but I need all the time I have for responsibilities sometimes. I feel trapped some days. Maybe a few days off would do me good. The hurricane didn’t really count since I was at work half the day, and… I don’t know. I had a singularly unproductive Saturday a few weeks ago that accomplished nothing as far as helping me relax a bit. So I think I need to pray and ask for some peace and diligence. That’s it.

Well, that and a camping trip :o)

Early morning… Had to get up sooner than usual to drive my dad to work since the truck crapped out on me on Saturday, and that being my alternate source of transportation, my parents and I were left with two working cars between three drivers. But we got it sorted out. It was cold at 6:30, though, enough for me to have to wear my coat (if I had had a jacket I would have worn that, but I don’t).

Saturday afternoon, for about two or three hours, I officially hated everything car-related, especially as the truck was being loaded on the AAA tow truck’s flatbed… *sigh* But I got over it soon enough.

What a morning already. I think I’ll go home early today. Nothing of substance right now…

I’ve done entirely too much paperwork and administrative stuff this morning. Must…have…creative…expression…somehow. Not that this is going to necessarily to be it, but we’ll see where it goes.

The fog was thick this morning, so much that it obscured the building in the apartment complex right across the way from ours. I was tired, but not as much as I might have otherwise been had I not taken that nap yesterday evening. My sleep was tumultuous though, taking me a while to fall asleep, then waking up frequently in the midst of dreams. Vivid dreams, too… I had one right as I fell asleep that was particularly so, even to the point of spilling over into the place where I’m about to fall asleep, on the verge, if you will. I think my mind initiated it as I lapsed into sleep–one of the very few times I’ve been able to do that, though last night it wasn’t so much a conscious effort as something I was thinking about at that point that was maintained into the dream…

I had to pull the second blanket, normally down over my feet, up over the rest of me last night, since it was cold and all I had on were my undershirt and shorts (I don’t like the way long pj pants wrap around my legs when I move them under the covers, so I save those for the bitterly cold nights). The second blanket rectified matters, and quite well–I was cozy with the covers pulled up to my chin. Usually I just drift off in an anonymous thought state, but last night the coziness started me thinking about Erin, and how comfortable we were taking naps together and the like, and suddenly there she was; I was dreaming; I knew it, but the vividness was astounding–she was substantial and next to me and real down the tinest detail. It provoked curiosity more than anything, since I had no idea my mind had stored her image to that fine degree. It was nice, too, of course, but it didn’t inspire longing in me for her, really, since I’ve been over the matter many, many times, and we’re not right for each other in so many ways. I woke up relatively quickly, within half an hour or so, since I had looked at the clock before I drifted off and glanced at it again before I rolled over. The rest of the night was a sea of half-dreams and seeming apparitions near the surface of sleep. I would be nearly awake one moment only to plunge into deep slumber the next. It was almost as if I could feel where I was relative to my waking state. I don’t think I’ll have another night like that, and I’m not sure I even want to, for a long time.

It’s cold this morning. I didn’t wear my green pullover,which would have made me warmer, because I have my sleeves for my shirt rolled up, and when I try to put something over it, it kind of starts to back up my arm, which is uncomfortable, and besides it just looks like I have lumpy arms underneath the pullover, and…yeah. Simple minds, simple frustrations, especially first thing in the morning.

Yesterday I worked all the way through from 8 til 5, cooked dinner in about half an hour, went home, mowed the rest of the lawn, pulled most everything out of the engine bay of the Supra except the engine itself, returned to the apartment, and went for a run. So today I’m tired, even more since I’m operating on about 6 hours of sleep. Not good.

geekiness cut for your LJ convenience

Sometimes I wonder whether having someone in bed next to me would make it easier to sleep at night or just harder to get up in the morning because I’d want to still be in bed with them. I think both, maybe? But things would just be worse if I hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and the fact that they’re still in the bed would make it all the more appealing to call in to work, and everything that entails.

In any case, I’m sleepy. Quite so in fact. I was torn away this morning by the alarm from dreams I didn’t want to leave, from a sleep I didn’t want to wake. The peanut butter muffins only go so far, and the commute in the truck isn’t the most pleasant experience in the world, though it does have a better heater than I give it credit for–which isn’t always a good thing in my state of alertness.

The longings are particularly acute this morning. I think part of it is simply that my mind tends to get fixated at length on the most diverse things when I’m waking. For example, one morning I’ll wake up with a Cardigans song in my head, the next I’ll wake stuck on the line from High Fidelity, “But I have to say that my all-time favorite book is Johnny Cash’s biography Cash by Johnny Cash,” and so on and so forth. And this morning, as I was putting on my shoes, the thought entered my mind that I wished someone had been there, someone I could have tucked in and kissed before I left for work, and like the good brain that it is, I’ve been replaying scenarios in my head that involve that longing for about half an hour now. I mean, only something like that could have let me ramble on as long as I have about the same subject. The banality of this whole ‘graph is overwhelming, but my fingers keep moving.

Good morning.

Just watched Being John Malkovich. One word: Wow.

Interesting dreams last night… In one I dreamed I put a bunch of people in a very large dishwasher, closed the door, and started it, much to the amusement of everyone inside. I could hear the sprayers swishing around and the comments of delight of the people. It was like I ran an amusement park ride. In the second dream I was at work, and I dreamed that I got fired by Alana (who doesn’t work there anymore) and Betty. While we were putting together my engine hoist in Betty’s office. I begged and pleaded for another chance–it was the most agonizing feeling, and they were pondering whether or not to do it when I woke up. I stared at our tall ceiling for a long time, trying to shake the sensation.

Well, I’m off to Harbor Freight to buy some measuring tools for the engine rebuild. And clean the apartment. Sheesh.

Wind is whipping around the News Services building… The trees just outside the window are bending wildly, branches flailing about in the gusts. So unprotected, so unaware… As the anticipation of the storm was mounting last night and I was out on my 11 o’clock run, I couldn’t help thinking of the trees and the wildlife, standing in the midst of the landscape the same as they had always done, oblivious to the storm that was bearing down on them. But that’s the way it happens.

I had some rather exotic breakfast this morning after my dash out the door to the car: Carribean rainwater peanut butter muffins. Quite a delicacy, I’m told, though admittedly they tasted the same as the breakfast all the other mornings. The morning commute itself, however, was seasoned with a bit of annoyance from the wipers in the Plymouth POS I’m driving until I fix my car–they didn’t have an intermittent setting, and they made the most grating squeak as the blade screeched across the windshield when I turned them on.

In any case, the University’s closing in about 45 minutes, so I’ll head home then and catch up on some sleep, perhaps, or maybe watch a movie. Depends if the power goes out or not, I suppose. Regardless, as much as I enjoy his company, eventful weather like this, or just events in general makes me wish more poignantly that I had someone besides Donald to experience them with. All in good and perfect time, right? Tell it to me again.

EDIT: All this ruckus outside makes me want to listen to a certain Björk song… “Isobel… my name’s Isobel…” Granted, the name is spelled differently, but it still could work, and…err…nevermind.

Who decided that “uh huh” would stand for “yes” and “unh uh” would stand for “no”? I was wondering that this morning. We use them all the time, but where did they come from? Maybe it all has to do with the tone of voice we tend to use when saying them, which is definitely part of the expressions, at least as I use them.

French techno on the radio. Kinda weird, but I like weird, and besides, the station breaks are nice :o) I just wish the network wouldn’t stall and rebuffer the stream every minute or so. Ooh, French rap now. Hahaha. It sounds a bit silly. I guess it’s hard to sound thuggish when you’re speaking in French.

I drove half an hour to Cary last night around 7 for our weekly youth leaders meeting. This week it was supposed to be a “fun night,” so I brought Apples to Apples. I pulled up in the parking lot of Jeremy’s (the youth leader) apartment complex, and didn’t see the cars of the other leaders, but I did see his. I walked upstairs, knocked on the door, and was greeted with a big hello and laugh and the news that the fun night is this Friday. I laughed and made conversation, but I felt really, really stupid… I stuck around for a minute, then drove back. I’ve been feeling an inordinate amount of spiritual attack over the whole youth group situation. Last night was an example–I felt an incredibly strong impulse to have a pity party on the way home and just an overwhelming sense of self-condemnation. I mean, I just didn’t read the email carefully enough… Jeremy was probably amused for a minute, then went back to his dinner. The youth group meetings on Saturday nights and the regular youth leader meetings on Tuesdays are other examples. Sometimes in the midst of them I get an incredible sense that I don’t have any sort of rapport with any of the kids or the other leaders, like I don’t mesh with them at all, and how could I possibly make a difference, and so on and so forth… But I know it’s where I’m supposed to be. I’d appreciate your prayers for that.

It is the most beautiful day imaginable outside–cool, breezy, comfortable, all the superlatives you could care to attach to it that relate to pleasantness. It’s a great day for a drive, or a picnic, or just a nap in the grass at a park somewhere.

Speaking of naps, I almost did it this morning. I was having real issues staying awake, so I was going to drive to a nearby street where all the students park their cars, find a spot, take a nap, then work through lunch, but as it turned out every spot was taken on that street, so I kept on driving, went to the grocery store and got some food so I can work through lunch anyways, and stopped by the bank. I’m not terribly more awake now than I was, but the activity helped some. Ringing myself up at the self-checkout register at Harris Teeter, I scanned one of my energy bars and promptly missed the bag when I went to put it in… The supervising cashier asked me jokingly if I needed help… I told her, “No, thanks, I’ve got it.” I look pretty groggy, though. See, one day I’ll post about something besides sleep. Like cars. Ha. Just kidding.

So I’m back at the office in my auburn button-down shirt and khakis, chewing on some of that clear-out-your-sinuses-it’s-so-minty sugarless gum (and absorbing nutrasweet that will be probably kill me prematurely), listening to the Go soundtrack, and working on a brochure for the School of Public Health. Whee.

Last night I had something of a meltdown about Mike’s car sitting in my parents’ driveway. Not to him, and not ranting and raving necessarily, just a…shared reality check. Shared with Donald, that is. It’s just that whenever I agree to help somebody out with their car, it’s almost like I implicitly take full responsibility for success or failure of the endeavor. I mean, Mike wouldn’t have known where to start without me. I delegated all the tasks, told him what to unbolt or rebolt next, and am still troubleshooting the thing… And it’s never said, but whenever something goes wrong or isn’t working quite right, I’m the one called in to diagnose things. Since Friday, albeit with Mike there, I’ve worked a total of 17 solid hours on this project. It ran for about five minutes yesterday before we turned it off. I’m just getting tired of it. My car needs attention; I’m ready to get started on that project, and after a few more days I’m going to say, okay guys, time to drive/tow the car back to your place. I can understand better now why Ashraf and Mike H. (another Mike) in the car club have just stopped giving in-depth advice and physical help for free to the younger (and older) guys in the area. Mike H. just tells them up front that it’ll be a mechanic’s rate if they want his help, and there’s some value to that, though I don’t think I would go to the extent he does. I just think I’m tired of the project, and I’m trying to figure out why exactly, beyond the obvious answers like it’s not my car and I’m dead tired this week because of it. Lessons learned that I will apply to next project of assistance: No specific time projections, no free help when the car is over at my house for an extended period of time and I’m basically taking over the direction of the project. I will be an assistant for free, but major things like engine rebuilds and transmission swaps are going to need some compensation, I think, even from high school guys like Mike. Yep. C’est décidé.

Onward with the day.

I’m going to complain for just a minute.

I am ridiculously tired. My body, especially my forearms, my back, and my legs, but to a significant degree the rest of me as well, is sore this morning. Michael and I worked for about nine hours solid, with only a small 20 minute break for food, on his car, reinstalling the engine and hooking up all the peripherals. I don’t know why I do it. It goes beyond enjoyment, not in the good sense, but in the sense that it’s something besides enjoyment and having fun. By the six or seventh hour, wrenching on the exhaust bolts underneath the car, I think it was just the drive to push through it, to finish the task, to ready the engine to start again, that kept me (us?) going.

I did not get enough sleep last night. I haven’t gotten enough sleep in as long as I can remember. I think part of it is that it’s just so easy to stay up that extra half hour, which turns into that extra hour, etc etc… I just hate waking up every morning thinking, “Should I call and tell them I’ll be late this morning so I can get that extra hour or two of sleep?” It’s a perennial thought.

I’ll be better soon. Right now I’m sore and tired and it’s a sleepy misty morning, and the fact that I’ve put that extra blanket on the bed so I wouldn’t be so cold at nights makes the thought of sleep exceedingly appealing.

Gotta push through.

Massive amounts of sleepy in my eyes this morning… If I don’t get eight hours or more of sleep tonight, shoot me.

Hurricane talk today at the office. Speculation, talk of previous storms, experiences, where it is now, etc… So remind me why North Carolina has to jut out tantalizingly into the Atlantic Ocean like it does? Seems rather silly to me. I wonder if I can still beat the rush and shop for a few days? Regardless, if the worst happens and power cuts off again for a week like it did for the ice storm, I’m high-tailing it…somewhere. Don’t know where, but yeah.

make me a witness
take me out
out of darkness
out of doubt

Morning commute made me miss specific moments… And my tired, semi-awake state didn’t help, when my mind takes the most inane threads of thought and runs with them for minutes at a time, like I could think about peach fuzz or aircraft carriers for half an hour, or the same snippet of song lyrics, which I may not have even heard recently, will play over and again in my mind at a deafeningly loud thought volume, drowning out everything, making the morning completely involuntary. But this morning I missed the expression of trust that was her laying her head in my lap and sleeping peacefully as I drove. I missed how I was able to stretch my arm across her and feel the slow rhythm of her breathing contrasting deeply with the cadence of the road my other hand sensed as it held the wheel. There was a peace there, a solace, a wide-eyed morning smile when she woke for a moment and looked up at me, still vigilant. I’m trying to describe a singular emotion via reams of run-on sentences, but it was so simple and so strong that it loses its ability to be described as it is scaled down for description…

In any case, I missed that this morning for a moment in between bites of peanut butter toast. Goodness only knows when I’ll feel it again. The funny thing is, it’s not something I can necessarily pursue as an end in itself, since the complexities our of relationship that defined the simplicity of the feeling were built up in layers, over time; any attempt to reproduce it would be met with a comparative shallowness… In other words, the experiences we went through and the time spent together created a familiarity, memories sprung back into my mind, my smile was more layered when I looked down at her momentarily, and those things are symbotic with the feeling; they were part of the experience.

Patience…

I won’t weigh you down
with good intentions
won’t make fire out of clay
or other inventions

Stress level doesn’t seem to be descending… It’s really bothering me. Earlier this evening, before I went for the run and released some of the excess energy, I felt so tightly wound that I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t done something. I don’t know what I need… The run helped, that’s for sure, but something in me feels like I need to talk, maybe? I don’t know.

Donald and John and I just hung out earlier in the evening, John with his beer after returning from astronomy class, Donald post-workout at the Carolina gym, and me after my run, just sitting and playing GT2 and eating some PB toast. We decided, through various conversational threads, that good names for bands would be Lightspeed Cockroach and Spin Buffer. For what genres we didn’t quite hammer out… Maybe punk? Regardless, it’s great to have roommates :o)

I want to go back to bed. It is cold outside, and rainy, and grey, and everything that you think a Monday would stereotypically be. When the heat finally came on in the car it made things quite cozy and created an environment all the more condusive to sleep, and of course it didn’t help that the commute seemed longer than it normally does as well. Is it a sign that I’m not getting enough sleep when I wake up in the morning and my toothbrush is still wet from last night?

Took me forever to get to sleep last night, too. I tossed and turned for half an hour, and then kept waking up… Thank goodness I got that nap yesterday.

Erg…mornings…

So here I am on a Sunday night, at work. Not good. But I’m listening to some spiffy trance on internet radio, and this makes me happy. So that’s good.

Evening notes:

1. I need to get a new battery for my camera. Apparently it’s not meant to be recharged in the camera, and I need to buy rechargeable ones, or figure something out. Which just seems kind of stupid considering how much I paid for the thing. But I’ll survive.

2. Rebekah’s dinner with everybody, slated for earlier in the evening, was canceled. I was slightly bummed about that, as I was looking forward to hanging out with everyone and playing Apples to Apples. She’s holding down the fort virtually alone, supervising her 4 or 5 young siblings, since her parents are away on a mission trip to Romania until this Tuesday, and she manages to have the fortitude to have a quasi-dinner party, at least until one of her younger brothers comes down with something.

3. Kendrick’s sermon this morning was great. I really need to get the tape.

4. I got to wear a sweater today to church, and while manning a position at the Care Group fair. I’m going to be doing the Car Guys group again this fall, just a topical group for guys in the church (and not) who want to meet up on Saturdays and fellowship over cars. God really blessed it last semester, to the point where the guys really bonded, and we made new friends and talked to people we otherwise wouldn’t have because of a shared interest and the initial common ground that brings. I had some prime real estate this year, right at the corner of the tables as people came out of the building, so I was in a high-visibility area. I did my gimmick again: I brought several rather obscure car parts from the garage (from Mike’s engine, incidentally), cleaned them up a bit (at home), and offered a prize (fun size 3 Musketeers bar–the best) to anyone who could name one. They were sufficiently unrecognizeable to the casual mechanic that I didn’t have to give out too many bars, but as usual the little boys think they’re hot stuff when they overhear one of the older men get one right and say, “Um,yeah, that’s a fan clutch,” with a big smile and expect a bar. I gave in a few times, but it got a little out of hand :o) I did get about ten guys to show interest and sign up, though, and I’m doing it next week, too.

5. My email came back last Friday after being down for three days or so. Finally.

The backs of my arms are cold tonight beneath my thinly blankets.

Odd dreams again… Brandy Britt, a classmate from freshman year and after, was in one of them. She was a landscape architecture student. In the dream I could ride a bike; it was very similar to John’s, and when I parked it, I could actually fit my helmet into the storage space underneath the seat. Weird. I walked into the mall, white collared shirt on, dark jeans and sandals, with a backpack, feeling very college-y… I walked around self-consciously, walked through the Apple store, where they were very busy, and made my way through the “fine dining area” near the food court, where people were dressed up, but I was just passing through. They became less well-dressed as I passed through the area, though, and she was sitting at one of the tables. We pretended like we didn’t make eye contact, and I walked by the table, but as I was walking away I turned around so she could see my face (although I was purposely looking elsewhere). She obviously saw me, since when I went up the escalator, she was standing right there, and walked in the same direction as me… I finally said something to her, calling her name. She smiled and recognized me, of course… We made stiff conversation, basically like two classmates who hadn’t seen each other in a long time, and some strange man started chiding me, out of the blue, about her love life, so I inquired, and she was single, apparently the guy that she was dating freshman year turned out to be a jerk or something. But she was moving on and moving up, working in Britain and Europe, studying in New York, everything… Told her I was excited for her. We started walking together through the mall, and she started doing spontaneous Jack Black impressions, so I joined in, and we walked into a toy store, and then I woke up. A trifle disappointed.

I had way more wrapped up in that than I thought.

That was a heavy nap. Made it through today by the grace of God, and by Scott’s own admission, I “handled everything they threw at me.” Felt like college again, at least a little bit… What with the odd hours, staying up until something was finished or at least in a presentable state. My throat felt terrible all day, though, and after discerning that it didn’t particularly like sugary foods, I made the mistake of buying hummus and pita bread for lunch as a change from my predominant diet of energy bars… While good, the rigidity of the pita bread did not mesh well with the soreness of my mouth, and it got quite painful. Things have simmered down a bit, though.

Drove home in the light, grey rain… Felt like the weather was having the same thoughts as I was. Got home at 5:30 or so and tipped over the footboard of the bed and collapsed for three and a half hours. Weird dreams about family friends and computer geeks… Odd, fitful dreams.

I guess I should have read the sign at the beginning of the day that said, “Welcome to hell.” This has been the single worst day of my life. I just got home, for reasons I’ll expound on later. I don’t feel like running. I don’t feel like eating. It hurts to eat. I don’t feel like talking. Nothing. And I don’t know how to fix this–this feeling, this situation, this everything, whatever. So surprise, LJ, looks like you’re going to get the brunt of it. And if this computer freezes up on me, I will literally chuck it out the window. I’m not joking in the slightest. After all that crap that happened earlier today, I went to get some food from Cosmic, ordered and stood there in the waiting area, with people all around, bevies of Carolina girls, just talking, eating, whatever, and I was suffocating. I had trouble breathing. I tell myself not to get self-conscious, but I did, without fidgeting, just standing there, stewing, and I hated it. I hated it. I clenched my jaw and just waited for my food, drove the stupid minivan back to the News Services building, and discovered that I had locked my keys in the building. Don’t ask how, or why, or what happened; I just did. Tried to jimmy the lock with a phone card, to no avail. There was nothing in the van that I could have used to pick the lock. I walked back to the van in the parking lot, past a pair of women wrapping up their conversation, trying to act inconspicuous after working the lock, but as I turned around after I got into the van one of the women got into her BMW that was parked right outside the door, so she must have had a key. I tried to flag her down but she just sped away. I’m glad Donald was home, otherwise I wouldn’t have had a key to get back in the apartment.

I can’t finish the Gazette insert which I said I would have done tomorrow morning.
I can’t finish the JCUE newsletter which I said I would have had done by the end of the day today.
I can’t do my billing sheets which are due today.
I can’t do anything.
And it’s my stupid fault. It’s not some sort of accident.

Break out the metaphors. And this sore throat isn’t going away, either.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to call. I don’t have a car to drive. He’s there, I know, and I’ve been talking to Him, asking Him what’s going on… I’m not blaming Him in the least; it would just be nice to know to what end all this is happening, everything is converging at once. I think…I just want to hold someone for a very long time…or be held. Something like that. Something along those lines.

What an abysmal day. I can’t believe I’m not reeling off strings of expletives.

EDIT (10:30) — Thank you Public Safety, thank you mom for Advil, thank you Carolina Inn for printing out the Gazette homepage that proves I do work in this building, thank you God. I’m back in. Now to work. Gonna be a late night.

I gotta take a break. At least it’s cooler in here–when Scott was here the A/C wasn’t high enough, which only exacerbated the frustration I was feeling at the world in general… Fortunuately we turned it down.

Okay, imagine a wad of paper, balled up. Imagine there are casually scrawled instructions on that wadded paper about a task you’re supposed to perform. And imagine that less than half the necessary instructions are actually on that paper. Now, imagine someone throws that ball of paper at you and says, “Okay, do it.” Welcome to my day with Gary.

*sigh*

Heading over to Franklin St. in a bit. Anyone up for dinner?

I feel terrible. Absolutely terrible. I have to get this stupid Gazette insert done today, not to mention the JCUE newsletter and my billing sheets, and that sore throat I thought was going away yesterday is back with a vengeance. I’ll be here until very late; I know. And Lycos mail is down until 2 o’clock tomorrow afternoon (heh… in theory–they keep pushing it back).

I just feel like crap, utter crap, and I’m stressed out beyond reason. Prayers?

I feel marginally better–the sore throat is fading. I took it easy all morning, didn’t get stressed out, and ate a good lunch, which helped a lot. I was going to go home at noon, but I’ve decided to stay here longer. There’s lots to be done.

I think I’m getting sick. I have a small sore throat, which is how these things always start. This is not good. I really don’t like to be sick, and especially not this week, seeing as how I have a significant chunk of work due–the Gazette insert on Wednesday, the JCUE newsletter, among other things… Argh. I’m one of those mind-over-matter, in-denial-that-I’m-sick people. I think I’m going to go to bed now–hopefully a good night’s sleep will help things.

In other news, I am now driving the family minivan. The Supra’s engine is blowing smoke, the Datsun’s rear brakes need a part that is “not available” and I now have to hunt down, the truck’s front brakes are scraping like anything since the gentleman who borrowed it didn’t return it to me this weekend when the problem first arose so that I could fix it when I had time before I have to return to work tomorrow, so… I’m now on my fourth possible means of transportation. Why do all these vehicle meltdowns occur simultaneously?

Is it wrong to want comfort right now?

Got the engine out of Mike’s car yesterday. Was quite an ordeal, and things took much longer than they usually do, which I had a premonition about (I’ve worked on enough car projects that I just know when something is going to take far longer than I think). The most frustrating part was when the engine was practically out, separated about an inch from the transmission, and it wouldn’t budge any farther. I could feel my frustration at it boiling up and over…so we took a five minute break and resumed, a session which ended in me just getting the crowbar (something I should have done initially), and prying the engine and tranny apart. Nothing’s broken; don’t worry (not like you were anyhow). The extra time it took made me late enough to my grandmother’s birthday party that I missed the dinner portion of it completely, something I was quite angry at myself about… But it all worked out. Not before getting about 8 different cuts on my hands from the day’s activities, though, not to mention a small piece of metal embedded in my palm that I only discovered much later. But it’s not as bad as it has been in the past–no gashes or lacerations or anything that would leave a scar, fingers crossed. The first thing I told Mike and Paul after we removed the engine was, “Guys, a lot of people were praying for us today.”

There are advantages to having done this sort of thing several times before, though, namely, since I know exactly what needed to be done, I could delegate tasks such that Mike and Paul did all the things I really didn’t want to do, i.e. the ones that involved getting under the car and torquing on this or that bolt or nut. It’s perfectly safe–the car is securely supported on jackstands, but the lack of leverage compounded by my already ungainly frame in such a cramped space makes for an unhappy mechanic when I spend too much time underneath any vehicle. So while I pulled the intake manifold off and undid the wiring harness, I told the guys to take off the starter, to remove the exhaust manifold bolts, to drain the oil, coolant, etc… They felt useful, and I was much more chipper by the end of the day (soreness notwithstanding) than I would have been. So it goes…

And now it’s raining.

Okay, so I nicked myself really bad shaving last night. A few realizations:

1. I should buy that “extra protection” variety of shaving cream that’s really thick to guard against nicks. Stuff really works.
2. I can’t believe we don’t have band-aids anywhere the apartment. I mean, I know it’s a bachelor pad, but there are basics.
3. While folding a tissue multiple times and scotch-taping it to your head works somewhat, it’s certainly not the ideal arrangement.
4. My head needs some sun. Badly.

Quark is down today at the office. Boo hiss. The movers are here too and they’re shuffling everything around. Semi-boo hiss. It’s Friday, and I’ll be watching The Two Towers tonight. So that’s a huzzah, at least.

Ahh… The old Thursday night ritual recommences. College is back in session. Drove through campus on the way to work earlier this evening to pick up something I left, and saw the clusters of guys and bevies of girls making their way through the grassy quads towards Franklin Street and its nightlife. A lot of them must have been State guys, walking around in their sandals and checked button-down shirts… Just amusing to watch the processions, and to stare at them staring back at me as I drove by.

Inspired equally by John Malkovich, Yule Brenner, Patrick Stewart, Billy Zane, Vin Diesel, Andre Agassi, and , I gone done it. It’s quite comfortable.

Thinking about shaving my head. Or going very, very short.

Seriously.

Thoughts?

Will you people just leave me alone? No, not you. You. The people who keep calling me wanting it done by this Friday. Must be done. Has to be done. Is imperative that it be done. *sigh* I’m doing my best; it’s at the printer; I’ve okayed rush charges and overnight shipping and informed them of the urgency of the situation, etc, etc, etc… Argh. Stress. Stressstressstress.

I’m doing my best here.

Tired beyond reason. Worked out last night for the first time a week and a half, still didn’t do laundry, got to bed around 1, which is too late for me, and I’m now $200 poorer and the proud owner of a 2.5 ton engine hoist. Wooha. The only redeeming element of yesterday was stellar dinner and drive conversation… That alone lifted my evening quite a bit.

Oh yes, almost got in an accident this morning and almost ran out of gas on the way to work. Adventurous. Can we say Somebody’s looking out for me? Thank you Lord.

Time to hit the phone again.

Up way earlier than I should be. I had to drive Donald to the airport this morning, though; it’s not just a fluke of my circadian rhythms and now I can’t get back to sleep. His plane departs at 8:45, so we thought it’d be good if he were there around 7, and I just came to work afterwards, since there was little point in stopping by the apartment, having had breakfast already and all.

Odd dreams last night. One in particular I remember, since it revolved (as the memorable ones usually do) around a girl. This wasn’t any girl I’ve ever met in real life, though–as far as I can tell she was constructed by my subconscious from fragments and attributes of girls that I know, but isn’t one in her entirety, though it’s debatable how well the girls that I dream about are an accurate representation in my dream of what they’re really like in life. In any case, she was shorter, a bit artsy, definitely drawn in, pretty antisocial, unapprochable, but with a certain quality that drew me to her, one that I couldn’t quite name. I was at her house for some reason, and we were in her room, which seemed to be near the center of the house, since there weren’t any windows to the outside, and it was rather dark, with a large bed, and a prominent television. We bantered for a while, walking around, I was trying to draw her out of her shell, something I’m not very good at doing, but in the dream I had a more accurate understanding of the situation and how she felt than I would have had in real life. I sat down on the bed. She came to sit beside me, still seemingly in spite of herself, talking some more about inconsequential things, then somehow I kissed her. This part I remember–the kiss was amazingly wonderful, whether because of the way she was, or how she felt about me, or a combination of both. It was…something else. We were torn away too quickly, though, as her family ambushed her room and I had to of course meet everyone, her father, her mother, and her siblings, all of whom it was fairly clear she despised to a degree, and it wasn’t really hard to see why, since they all appeared to have the intelligence of fungus, and its social skills to boot. She sat uncomfortably, silently in a chair in the living room while I made as polite conversation as I could with the relatives. I just wanted to spend time with her alone, learning more about her, underneath the hardened outside… But I woke up, around 5, no less, much earlier than I had to–quite an annoyance, as the dream could have at least had the courtesy to last until I had to wake up.

The way dreams play on one’s emotions, though, and resonate with you throughout the day… On the way to work today, stopping by the grocery store for a mid-morning and afternoon snack, climbing back in the truck alone, I felt the most acute sense of longing I have in forever. Patience…

Download this song. You’ll enjoy it–if you have a high tolerance for house techno, that is. It’s moving, progressive, driving, ethereal… Great song.

Going to run in a bit. Looking forward to it, just to clear my head. I might go farther than I usually do. There are many things built up in me tonight, some good physical exertion does wonders. I was extremely tempted to drive back to my parents’ house and start pulling stuff out of the Supra’s engine bay in preparation for the engine pull, but that would mean rolling the Datsun out of the garage and playing musical cars for a bit. But it would be good. I think I’ll do that tomorrow afternoon.

Sit and listen, sit and dream, be, long, simmer, pine, think. Evergreens, mountains moving past, left and right. Ranges of sound, expanses, greater than the air among my wide open eyes…

no one’s calling for me at the door
and unpredictable won’t bother anymore
and silently gets harder to ignore

Well, if that wasn’t a sign, I don’t know what is. I was about to do something rather bad. It’s been amazingly difficult to keep my eyes open this morning at work, so I was about to throw in the towel, grab a parking pass and head down to some remote parking lot, and take a hour power nap or something… I was out the door, got in the car, and as soon as I sat down in the seat, a huge delivery truck backed into the area directly behind me and parked resolutely, blocking me off completely from leaving my spot. I was going to walk over and tell the guy I needed to leave, but that was enough for my conscience to kick in, so I took the parking pass off the rear view mirror and walked back inside. And felt a bit better for having walked around. Maybe I just need to jog around the block?

Oh, and have I mentioned recently how much I love internet radio?

Why’d I have to schedule my meeting with Cate House for 3 p.m. today? I want go home early. I have dinner with friends at 6, and I’d really like to take a nap before then. Dang it. Okay; I need a favor. Those of you who have gotten extra sleep today, send some my way, please. I’ll pay postage.

I have nothing else to write about. At the moment. Brain not working yet.

little breakdowns
in costal towns
they come suddenly
crashing over you
they come easily

Fog was thick this morning, palpable almost.

Morning routine was by rote. As long as I don’t physically stop or sit down anywhere I can make it out the door in a reasonable amount of time, although clothes for work were a bit hard to find, which slowed me down. I’m so listless, so tired. Keeping the right posture in my chair is a struggle. Very few of you can read this, and I’m jumping around. Months go by and I haven’t found her… Things, I don’t know what exactly, wear thin. I want so many things, the comfort, the help, the conversation, the advice, the companionship, the physical closeness and that means of expressing love… …and the beauty, oh the beauty. But I won’t invest myself fully in someone if it’s not meant to be… I won’t go out with someone as a utilitarian, pragmatic gesture; just to have someone there–I don’t want a woman, I don’t want a girlfriend or a wife, objectively, I want her. Just one.

I want to lie down beside her in bed, her back against me, my arms around her, my legs tucked up underneath hers, my nose brushing the back of her head ever so slightly (but without tickling, paradoxically) underneath mounds of blankets on a cold winter night. To feel the rise and fall of her body from the gentle breathing… I want to sit across from her on a porch swing on a late fall afternoon, reading. I want to walk with her, hand in mine, and laugh… Washing dishes together, listening to the radio and talking… Planning together, deciphering life. Being proud of her as her ambitions come to fruition. Among other things.

Have I wasted these moments? Or are the true ones yet to come?

I don’t usually post these. I keep it inside.

I’ve definitely had my fill of Gran Turismo on the PS1 over the course of the past day or so… Reminds me why video games in general leave a bad taste in my mouth. Yeah, productivity, thy name was not Matt today, at least at home. Work was good–got the fall issue of Around the Hill done (the newsletter for the sickeningly rich alumni). Lunch, also, was particularly notable. Good friends and conversation make the hour pass entirely too quickly…

Something real tonight? Possibly. Where am I going? What am I really doing, and who for? What becomes of all those hours languished away in the throes of laziness? Wasted, disappeared… I shouldn’t define my life by my level of productivity or busyness or the number of activities I make a difference in, but things start somewhere–there’s a foundation that undergirds and would hem in my daily dallying that I need to establish. It’s life; it’s maturity; it’s being an adult. Trite maybe, but I think I need to grow up.

Also, Apples to Apples party here at the apartment, Saturday night, 7 p.m. Be here.

I will not be afraid of women

Heard a solitary bird chirping outside my window this morning. It was immeasurably pleasant to hear instead of the buzz of the summer insects or the din of the trucks next door pulling in and out of the driveway. My plant is still surviving, albeit barely. I think it’s reached a sort of equilibrium where it’s not dying anymore, but it’s not thriving, either. Just kind of existing, being.

Just got a call from the shop about my car’s smoking ordeal. The compression numbers for the pistons were at least consistent, but “consistently wore out,” as the mechanic put it. Basically the engine’s going to need a complete rebuild. This excites me with the prospect of having a tight, fresh engine when everything’s said and done, but it’s a bit daunting financially. I could do most of it myself, but it would take a couple of months. I’m a sucker for projects like this; I just wish I could call the shots as far as when it occurs.

edit:more

Okay. Ready? Go to the UNC homepage. See that little detour icon on the left of the page (yeah, hard to miss, isn’t it)? That’s ME! Well, my handiwork, at least. Also, this whole page is me too. Kinda cool to have it out there. It’s a bit more immediate than print work. Speaking of…got the 8/13 issue of the Gazette today, and it looks pretty spifftacular, if I do say so myself. Especially the headline on the first page. Wasn’t sure how that was going to turn out. Okay, enough grandstanding.

Got the whole grad. school orientation manual situation figured out. Sort of. My client from the grad. school called me up this morning in a complete panic, and I could hear the twinge of fear in her voice, the kind that says, “This might cost me my job,” even if they don’t say it outright (and they wouldn’t). Jim was kind of frustrated too, but he’s going to print out extra copies of the standalone manual and distribute them. One thing’s for sure; we’re sure as heck not paying for them. At least it’s resolved, and everyone involved has been appeased, it seems. Exciting office life. Betty came back from vacation today and we had a staff meeting at 4 with munchies and everybody pigged out and talked about movies and clients and whatnot and had a good time. I liked it.

(Late) Dinnertime.

The PCV system was not it. Disabled the whole thing this afternoon, and the car managed to fumigate an entire intersection on the way home from Best Buy. That was rich. I’m going to have a leakdown test administered tomorrow to figure out how expensive this is going to be.

*sigh*

R&B and rap night at the gym earlier, so I have 50cent going through my head now, which is lovely. On the plus side the cross section of people working out resembled the typical crowd on Friday nights–skinny white boys with nothing better to do than hit the gym. This is a plus side because I used to be skinny but really am not any more, so it’s a bit of an ego booster, tempered with the knowledge in the back of my mind that I used to be where they are. I can walk around and feel kind of like the king of the skinny white boys. Yeah, that’s kind of bad. But confidence boosters are good at the gym, so I’ll take them where I can get them.