BoldUlysses.com

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.

Wow. I mean… Wow.

Got the grad. school orientation manuals from the printer today, and they’re missing a section. A section. The handbook section. Yeah, they’re going to be pissed about this one, but for once it’s not my fault. I gave explicit instructions, repeatedly, about which sections were supposed to be in the manual, their order, and I delivered the files ahead of schedule. It just boggles my mind. And this isn’t the first issue with this job, either. They’re already almost a week late and delivered to the wrong location. Jim (the director of Printing Services)… I feel for that guy. He goes on vacation for two weeks and his whole operation has a meltdown. Well. It’ll be interesting to see what he says when he returns my call about it–but he’s probably fielding very angry calls from the grad. school already. Man.

Anyway. It was hard to get up this morning, but it’s been a good day. I puttered along shoring up some web work this morning, doing a little administrative housecleaning here and there. My car still smokes like a napalmed jungle in ‘Nam, but I’m going to investigate that this afternoon. Got a few theories. In the meantime… More hummus!

i don’t miss the driving
seems like forever
and i’m always driving in my mind
and wearing out the road that gets me there

What a rotten couple of days. I’d appreciate your prayers… I’ve been under some pretty heavy spiritual attack lately, between my unmotivation, and complete and utter paranoia about my job situation, even though I’m here, and it’s as secure as it can be, and they keep giving me work, which is a good sign… But every whispered conversation in the next room causes my ears to perk up a bit, every phone call is something that’s going to go wrong–it’s no way to work, to be here. Today’s been okay–I’ve been knocking stuff out, gritting through it, but I just wish the undercurrents would go away. A lot of it is because of my experience down in Florida of getting let go, and how every time I think about the experience and relive it in my mind I push it back because it was so painful, so traumatic… But I honestly don’t know what to do. I was always the good kid back in elementary school, the kid who if he got in trouble thought it was the end of the world, always the teacher’s pet, regardless of whether or not I was a particularly stellar student, and I think my experience in Florida was the epitome of “getting in trouble with the teacher,” or at least that was the source of the greatly magnified emotion that I felt. I felt like I disappointed so many people, I had let everyone down, I had failed utterly and completely, even if the job itself was complete garbage, I didn’t push through it, suck it up, grin and bear it… It was hard.

But you know what? God took care of me then, and He will now. I have a vastly better job now, which pays better, I’m surrounded by friends even if I don’t reach out to them all the time; I may be completely devoid of prospects but He’s going to take care of that too, along with everything, my development as a person, my destiny, His purpose.

*sigh* Just tell that to my gut.

I really, really really, REALLY really really do not want to be here at work this morning. I could have called in sick. Something inside me said, “Go to work,” though, so here I am. Heh. I’m still bleary-eyed from waking up, and I got here about five minutes late, but oh well. Betty (my boss) is out of the office most of this weekend anyway. And now I have to deal with stupid timesheets, where I basically have to account for every hour I worked during the month of July, and bill as many of them to clients as possible, but not too many, ’cause they’ll call me and say, “This didn’t take that long,” and blah blah blah… It would be alright, and it has been in the past; I just wish I had been more diligent about it last month. Phooey.

No nap yesterday, which is probably just as well since I don’t really want to develop a habit of taking a nap every day, as that opens the door to feeling really tired during certain parts of the day, typically early afternoon, and I get dependent on them. Happened in college, so I know. Went shopping with Leslie. She was buying birthday presents for people on her upcoming missions trip to Romania, and I had to get some odds and ends for the apartment. We went to Walmart first, which was a huge zoo since it’s back-to-school week, and then to the mall, where we ran into Erin (my ex) and her current beau, Dave. It was really awkward for me. Dave’s really a great guy, and goes to our church, helps out with youth and everything, and I have nothing but respect for him, but it’s still just odd, all the more since she’s about 5’9″ and he’s considerably shorter about probably about two-thirds her size. I can’t really see them together, but they must get along well… It was just weird. Leslie and Erin made casual conversation about the Romania trip while Dave and I stood there, then somehow we started talking about my glasses, and Leslie, being the very forthcoming person she is, mentioned that she doesn’t really like them, that they’re too big for my face, and Erin chimed in, by which point I’m laughing about it and everything, doing my best, but I can still feel myself turning red as a beet (when I do, it’s obvious)… Yeah. That encounter didn’t exactly leave the best taste in my mind, so to speak.

The rain fell last night. It made me want someone there next to me in bed, someone whose rhythmic breathing I could feel as the sound of the rain manifested itself. For some reason, the night hasn’t erased that desire, but only made it stronger this morning.

Okay, mind over matter. Work.

Ma Theresa’s joined the mob and is happy with her full-time job

A scattered assortment. More to come.

For a busy evening, it’s a busy evening.

So I’m still here. Had to work through today since I got a call from Scott saying they need me at the Gazette today at 3. And my neck still hurts from my workout on Monday when I popped/pulled something. I think I need Paul (my brother) to give me a massage. The guy is good. Freakishly large hands run in the family, though his are even bigger than mine, as are his feet, weird considering he’s about two inches shorter. But much bigger. Not fat, just…big. He’s pushing 230, and I’ve been hovering around the 190-5 mark for ages. I used to be able to pin him–not anymore :o)

This camera is so cool. It’s nearly silent, too–when I turn the beeps off only a tiny *click* gives away that it’s taken a picture. I sense this will come in handy in the future. And so begins my soon-to-be-burgeoning career with the CIA… Maybe I’ll get to be a NOC operative, just like in the movies. That would rock.

O-kay. Back to hummus and pita bread and Clif bar and Photoshop and Quark.

Well…hmm…hrmm. It seems the camera and the Mac OS both here at work and at home (which is a little more to be expected) don’t like to communicate with yon camera. Of course, when I plug it into Donald’s PC with Windows XP, it recognizes the camera immediately. The only feature I’d take from that OS… Remember that crisis of incompatibility I mentioned yesterday? Yeah…yeah. It is upon me. Looks like we’ll be waiting until I get home to upload the images. Unless… I go home for lunch today. Could do.

I am going to buy a digital camera today.

And Donald will be my trusty sidekick in selecting one, since he knows his stuff.

Yee haw.

So…barring a major Mac meltdown (MMM?) or a computer crisis of incompatibility of Michael Jackson/Lisa Marie proportions, I should be posting thousands of words tonight. Poetically speaking.

What a stellar film. Watched Amélie (or its proper French title Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain) last night with Donald (who slept through, according to his estimate, 40% of the movie) and Leslie. I won’t make sweeping generalizations about French films and certain qualities in which they completely surpass American movies, but just speak of the film in question. There was visual poetry to the imagery and cinematography, an admirable amount of restraint in the actual romance, and the movie was just so chock-full of little intimate details that that alone makes it worth repeated viewings. It appealed to me immensely on many levels, but two main ones: I’m a dreamer by nature, and certain (okay, most) of the movie has a surreal, augmented-reality feel to it, where we overlap more often than not into the character’s thoughts, but as a matter of course, not self-consciously at all, and seamlessly integrated into the overall vision of the film. In this regard it was very dreamlike, very fantasy-driven. The other level is simply the movie’s French-ness, the visuals, the locations, the discourse, the reactions, the mannerisms… It makes five years of my life come tumbling back onto the brim of my subconscious, just enough to press upon emotions and memories long dormant. Oh, it was so good.

*roll High Fidelity clip*

Rob: I want more; I wanna see the others on the big top-five. I want to see Penny and Charlie and Sarah, all of them. You know? Just see ’em and talk to ’em. You know, like a Bruce Springsteen song.
Bruce Springsteen: You call, you ask them how they are and see if they’ve forgiven you.
Rob: Yeah, and then I’d feel good. And they’d feel good.
Bruce Springsteen: They’d feel good, maybe. But you’d feel better.
Rob: I’d feel clean and calm.
Bruce Springsteen: That’s what you’re looking for, you know, get ready to start again. It’d be good for you.
Rob: Great, even.
Bruce Springsteen: Give that big final good luck and goodbye to your all time top-five and just move on down the road.
Rob: Good luck, Goodbye. Thanks, Boss.

The Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez flick Gigli has displaced Manos, the Hands of Fate from the #2 spot on the imdb.com Bottom 100 list (the 100 worst films). This provided a moment of amusement this morning, especially since I’ve seen the latter film and can testify to its absolute, derelict awfulness. It’s not even funny bad like Plan 9 from Outer Space; it’s just bad bad. How can I have seen Manos, and not Jurassic Park? Good question.

Donald was about half an hour into Amélie when I returned to the apartment in the middle of doing laundry last night. Seeing as how I can’t start watching a movie that far into it, the film is in the cards for tonight. Looking forward to it, especially after Donald’s raves about it.

J’écrirai davantage plus tard.

I feel like I’m flailing about sometimes, heart and mind grasping for something, anything, in the night air. This is a sometime. They usually come to me on Sunday nights, but I guess this one’s a day early for some reason. It’s been a productive day, even, I mean, I helped out Mike with his car, went for a drive with the guys, hung out with Joel and John, assembled my table, celebrated mom’s 50th with the rest of the family, went shopping, had a good workout… And I’m caught on this end of the day, seemingly trapped between my longings and sleep, tired but with no place to go but the bed and dreams and another day, but not wanting it for some reason, as if staying in this moment, clinging to these feelings which cling to no one at all could avail me, could fulfill them, could satisfy me. But nothing happens. I sit here; I poke around the internet; I listen to music that really doesn’t help matters, and no one comes. It’s not a plea, just a situation, a place I’m going through and have been through countless times that will deepen the experience of having companionship of a certain nature on these quiet weekend nights. And the sofa is only a short walk away. My mind jumps around, tracing the emotional constellation that appears for a split second, then vanishes into stars again, and my hands close around emptiness. There isn’t a direction right now, just an existence.

The Goonies.

Last night.

For the first time.

On the big screen.

It rocked.

So…yeah. Lunchtime.

C’était un matin très long, et je ne vois pas encore la fin de la journée.

There’s a giant poster on my wall here at the office. It’s solid grey except for the upper right corner, which says “no 5,” although it’s a bit truncated. It relieves the off-white of the walls and provides at least a semblance of another window to the room.

After that heart-stopping preface, here I am. Listening to music with the headphones, but only the right speaker covering my ear. Grey shirt, khaki pants. Timberline boots. Matching belt. Mismatched socks. 6’4″, though not sitting down. Green eyes. Red hair. Goatee in progress. My monitor looks remarkably akin to a flower on account of the post-its arrayed around the perimeter.

Had lunch with Leslie yesterday, who shared a real insight about the NH girl. She was just being real. She’s a thoughtful person, and it wasn’t that I might have been unattractive (although little things may have played a part), it’s just she thought, “Where is this going to go, really? How much of my time do I really want to fritter away on something that has little chance of coming to fruition, whatever that might look like?” It was good for me to hear. Stops the self-doubt. It’s something that should have occurred to me a long, long time ago. And it makes it easier to move on.

I have no creative energy today, just as I’ve had little this week. I could reach down and write about another memory from France or earlier in my younger days, but it would just be the same hackneyed, trite prose I always write. I always end up writing about the curtains to start out, then I lose myself in some other mishmash of sensations and crap like that. It’s old.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t know where I want to be.

Oh, did I mention I bought a plant for the apartment on Sunday?

His name is Francis.

And he sits on the end of the wall and needs to be repotted.

less

I watched far too many movies last week. Finally, finally saw Gladiator last night. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before now. I’m a big Ridley Scott fan. Thought it was good–I think the movie can be enjoyed on several different levels, just watching it on a surface level, or delving into the intricacies of the plot and characters and their motivations. I was in the first mode last night, so I didn’t get my brain more involved than I had to, and it was a good standard epic picture. Maybe the next time I see I’ll get more into the shifting loyalties and maneuverings and dependency paradoxes of the film.

I took a few minutes this morning to cut and paste all our correspondance into a Word file and print it out, so I can clear her folder out of my email account. 89 pages, single-spaced, 10 point font (it’s a novel). And that’s just since last September. It was rather depressing, but it will help me put that episode behind me and move forward.

The movie Out of Sight has some of the best chemistry I’ve ever seen in a film. The air between Jennifer Lopez and George Clooney is just palpable at times, especially during the seduction scene at the hotel bar, intercut with another scene… The sexual tension hanging in that conversation is substantial. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, and not for the reasons you might expect. In a way I thought it was a shame they showed what they did, since I just wanted to hear more repartees. It’s like a French character study film in a lot of ways, where the idea of a plot is almost incidental, secondary to the dialogue and observation of the personalities playing off one another.

Bought a real, hardwood dining room table today. Tomorrow I’ll be shopping for plants and beanbags and sleeping. Not shopping for sleeping. Actually sleeping.

experimental

Yay for new webspace! It’s like a blank canvas. I can’t resist. More to come, certainly.

Wop bop a loo bop.

Bim bam boom.

Picked up Ashraf to go to lunch today for our weekly “Italian Thursday” or whatever… It seems like every day is construction day here at UNC, but today was particularly bad. Going down the hill from the hospital area on Columbia street, the left lane was blocked by construction. It’s over a rise, so the cars in my lane (including me) didn’t know it until the last second, and many of them were turning around after minutes of frustration trying to get into the right lane. Not wanting to pull a u-turn, and having sat there with my blinker on for more than a few minutes, I saw an opening in front of a white Chevy SUV, so I moved forward and nosed in. This action was immediately followed by a nice horn blast from Mr. SUV Driver as well as a few lovely comments directed out his open window. My window was down, so I stuck my hand out in a gesture of, “Thank you.” He must have thought this was an affront of some sort, since as soon as I was stopped I saw in my side mirror his car door open and a pair of jeans walking up to my car. “Wonderful,” I thought. Didn’t have time to roll up my window; got a few choice sentences peppered with, ah, colorful metaphors, to which I responded, “Thank you very much for letting me in. I appreciate it.” I think he was expecting a confrontation, either that or I didn’t seem as intimidated/defensive as he thought I’d be, since he staggered back a few steps, wordless, then lurched back to his car, muttering. Kinda put a damper on the whole lunch hour, but we got over it and had a good time. And some jerk chicken pizza and cheese breadsticks at the Mellow Mushroom.

I think next time I’ll pick a restaurant that’s a bit closer, though, i.e. one on Franklin.

Kinda makes me wonder what he would have done if Ashraf and I had gotten out of the car, though.

Back to work.

Used the scanner back at my parents’ house, which means they’re kind of washed out, but oh well…

The first 11 are new additions. Sifted through the ’92-’94 albums while my whites were drying.

Now for sleep.

I feel like peeling out at one of the stoplights on my way home. Just one of those days. But I really should be responsible and not waste the rear tires… We’ll see. Probably depends what music is playing in my car at the stoplight in question. And whether or not I’m at the front of the pack, which rarely happens.

My office plant is dying. I know nothing about gardening, but I’m taking it home so it’ll be easier for it to receive sunlight and I can put a dish underneath the pot to catch the overflow water. We’ll see how this works. I think if I put it out on the porch and water it sufficiently, it’ll make it. Doesn’t hurt that we need plants back at the apartment, either.

Something inspirational, something deep, something thought-provoking. Today I’m all plagiarism and wading through the oceans of others’ thoughts. I need to do something creative. Hmm. Now that I have the scanner hooked back up to my computer… *insert sound of mental gears turning*

In other news…

We have enough peanut butter in this apartment to kill a horse.

A peanut butter horse.

Okay, yeah, that was completely me, “singing” along with Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name” on the way back from lunch… Darn those “All ’80s Lunches” on the radio station. Yeah, I should be shot.

Have I mentioned my brother and roommate put three bottles (!) of bubble bath in the fountain of a local mall last night? Apparently it took a while to get started (since the water was so cold), but eventually the foam rose to a height of about two feet above the surface of the water and attracted the attention of the mall security guards. We were hoping it would make it onto the 11 o’clock news, since “Monday is always a slow news day,” (yeah Donald :o), but no such luck, not even as the shot they roll the credits over at the end of the broadcast. But I guess there are more important things in the world than bubbles. Though it’s hard to imagine what.

She was all in white at the foot of my bed
I said, “Angel of mercy am I alive or am I dead?”

I find my dreams being rekindled lately… Dreams I’ve held for years, reappearing in a different light. Dreams of being a pilot… Dreams I had pushed to the wayside during these first few months on the new job, but are now returned. The funny thing is, they’re strongest when I start thinking about my future in a responsible light, instead of the romantic, fanciful images and scenarios that had always pressed upon my mind, something one might expect, given the nature of thinking about the future and my already overbearing propensity to dream big… I’m a visionary, for better or for worse– meaning I see the big picture, but I’m terrible at working out the details. It also means that I tend to overcommit to things. But hey, at least I’m self-aware.

My dad is building a front porch ramp for a friend of the family who is handicapped and more or less confined to her house. She’s also not the most alert, visual person in the world, so my dad comissioned me to draw a few “artist’s impressions” of various designs under consideration, just so that he would have an easier time communicating to her what was going to happen to her front yard. It felt good to draw again, basically rectilinear forms notwithstanding… Just to throw the lines, visualize the shadows and angles and overlaps and play with line weights. Don’t do that much here at work unless I’m at the very beginning of a project and I’m drawing thumbnails of layouts and such.

I should have a new website up soon. Just need to find some non-advertised webspace. Stay tuned.

This is the single most beautiful piece of string music ever written. It’s a grey ocean, a long-awaited homecoming, an embrace, a lingering glance wrapped in the comfort of familiarity, it aches, it moves… It’s…incomplete.

Can’t sleep. Dunno why.

1. I should be in bed. That’s probably my most frequent admonition towards myself… Heh. I tell myself that practically every night.

2. Watching Moulin Rouge at this point in my life is bad. But it’s so good. I think I’m going to rent Strictly Ballroom tomorrow night–I’m on a Baz Luhrmann kick.

3. Three and a half miles in 26 minutes and change earlier tonight. Not bad.

4. I should post this in the community, but ah well. Notch a Cavalier and an Accord in my belt this week. (more…)

Yay geekdom!

I think I’ve watched too many movies this week. Saw Jaws last night on the big screen–Regency Park in Cary. It’s a reasonably-sized ampitheater, pretty modern architecture. It’s apparent that at least some of the big bucks made in the area are going towards things like that instead of straight into some CEO’s retirement fund. I had never seen it before, so it was doubly exciting. There was a video projector situated underneath a tent projecting onto a big screen on one side of the arena, with a generous speaker system arrayed above, and subwoofers strategically placed around the lawn, where we were all lying on our blankets and lawn chairs and what-not. One of the best parts about the whole experience was the lightning. The rain had already passed before dusk, so the grass was almost completely dry, but the air was still muggy. And as the movie started, flashes of lightning appeared in the clouds overhead, growing in intensity and frequency, but without the threat of real rain. It was absolutely beautiful, and underscored the suspense of the movie, already loud and on the big screen. What a great show. I couldn’t believe they got away with a PG rating for that movie, though. It’s scary, and there’s a lot of blood and severed limbs, and what happens to Quint near the end really took me aback. Makes you wonder which MPAA bigwig they paid off to bump the rating down. It’s insane.

There is something of the melancholy element in me today… Don’t know quite what it is. I think somehow the thinking back yesterday on all my relationships and young women I’ve come into contact with made me sad… To a certain degree. I felt a measure of poetry swelling up in me this morning, bits and phrases, pieces of my emotions coming through inencumbered by the trappings of syntax and conventional grammar (which I usually cast aside anyways). But I don’t think it’s time for that just yet. There’s still prose to be written.

Why do the forces of reality and romanticism seem to be perpetually at odds in my life? Why do I long for those who live far away, are inaccessible, or have long since faded into the mist of previous years? There’s always a simple answer, and I know it. I always want what I can’t have, and on top of that, their distance makes it relatively easy for those romantic upwellings to idealize everything about them. I’m not a doormat, though. I have been in the past, and I’ve learned from it; I take the good with the bad; I’m not so rosy-eyed that I won’t stand by my opinions and tenets. I felt like I tempered my idealism in her case; I watered down the desire to go full-bore, which would have been realistically impossible anyways, as previously alluded to is usually the case… But I wanted to at least keep the lines of communication afloat until…until… Until I don’t know.

And I felt it too–the lack of chemistry sometimes; over the phone, during our conversation at the diner… But something in me fights against that rationale, almost without my control. I want to give reasons it wouldn’t have worked out, but my emotions, seemingly of their own accord, dismiss those reasons. And in presenting counter-reasons, my emotions play their trump card on the realistic side of me by using the essence of what they are, feelings, to induce me to consider the emotional reasons more plausible. And so it never really goes away, it just comes and goes…

I still have her pictures in my daily planner.

I still have the crushed fragment of lavender she sent me from France last summer. It sits in its envelope in a box in my closet, along with all her letters and emails.

I feel so stupid sometimes.

I shall conquer this.

Well, I had something interesting to say, but I think it’s gone now…

Finished watching St. Elmo’s Fire last night. I should’ve rented The Breakfast Club instead, I think. The former movie is plot-less, the script leaves quite a bit to be desired, and all the characters display an obnoxiousness and self-centeredness that would shame the Party of Five crew. Not the best ’80s movie out there, by any stretch of the imagination. But it was diverting.

Aaron came over last night, his first visit to the apartment, and he and Donald and I talked about plans for a trip to Europe next summer, over pizza. Donald and I both have a few connections over there (he has a friend who lives in Vienna, and I have lots of friends living in the Nice, France, area). We talked about getting there, what we would do while we’re there, and how to get around over there. Kind of convenient that there were three of us, and three major parts of the trip to consider. Helps with the division of research. So right now we’re thinking about three weeks next May. Plane fares are pretty cheap this far out, and it’s not the smack-dab middle of the summer, so that helps as well. I’ll keep you posted.

Waking up is such an interesting experience. It’s unwelcome most of the time, but no less intriguing. I’m particularly bemused by the way my mind seems to be resolutely stuck on one idea or song or sound bite from a film or TV show I saw. It’s only there for the first few minutes of the morning, until more sensory input arrives, by why I wake up with that song in my head just plain baffles me. Also, just the fact that the initial 15 minutes of my day are basically one long, extended reflex action is something to think about as well.