Long Time Gone

Hey there. I guess it's been awhile. Only two weeks, I suppose, and not much has really happened. Well, it has, I guess. I've been incredibly busy with school; end of the semester and all. I only have 3 class days left. It's almost unfathomable how quickly the time went by. I've been busting my ass the last 3 days on my final paper for my Theories of Personality class. We have to do a personality analysis on someone, either real or a fictional character, anyone we want, and I chose Brenda from Six Feet Under. She is truly one of my favorite characters that ever has existed. I wish she was real and we could be BFF, I love her so fucking much. She's by far, I think, the richest and most complex character on the show, and really the reason I kept watching it. So that's going well.

Today I started my volunteering at Doug's House, the AIDS hospice here in town, and still the only one in Central Texas (again, God bless Austin). Today was actually my orientation, but I'm going to start this week, probably Thursday, and work one 4-hour shift a week until I get comfortable with it, or have more time or whatever. There were 2 other volunteers with me today at the orientation, both of them women, probably around my age or slightly older. I liked them both a lot right away, and one of them even made a pretty off-color joke to me while we were talking about changing diapers, which of course immediately endeared her to me. I think I'm really going to enjoy my time there, though it's gonna be rough. Today we met 2 of the patients currently living there. One of them is a man in his early-40's, who looks about 70, and is in the final throes of AIDS. He has about 2 months left, tops. He's nothing but a skeleton lying in his bed watching television. He eats around half a sandwich a day, which takes him about 30-45 minutes to eat, and you have to break off little pieces and feed them to him, and even then, it makes him so tired he has to sleep for hours afterwards. The other was a middle-aged black woman, covered with open sores from an advanced Herpes infection, fresh out of prison. She has 3 daughters, but only one that ever comes to visit or seems interested in her fate. I got really choked up about 3 times today just talking to the orientation leader, without even having done anything, or having yet become emotionally involved in any way. But I am looking really forward to starting, to talking with the patients there and just getting to know them, holding their hands, feeding them, giving them their medications, or just sitting and watching television with them, which is mostly what they want. Some company, someone to talk to. Most of them have just been through fucking hell that you couldn't imagine, largely abandoned by family and often even friends. It's so fucking tragic. But that's why I decided I wanted to be in this field: I want to know these people, I want to help them in any small way that I can. Maybe that sounds really self-righteous or pompous, but I don't care. It's the truth.

Oh, and we went through "death procedures" today too: what to do if somebody dies on our clock. We have to fold their hands across their chests and make sure their eyes are shut, and pull a sheet over them. There are numbers for the mortuary and coroner on the wall in the office for us to call, and if the patient has a call list of friends and family, that's our job too.

As an interesting side-note: every room has a really nice wall-mounted CD player and stereo, which the orientation leader said were all donated and paid for by Sandra Bullock. I was always very ambivalent about Sandra Bullock, but that seems like a really thoughtful thing to do. Like, she actually wanted to give them something, improve their quality of life in some small way.

I guess this post is getting really long. There were other things I was going to talk about, personal stuff, but I guess it's all pretty irrelevant. The last 2 weeks have been a pretty mixed bag of mostly incredibly good, and some really awful stuff. But I've learned to just let certain things go, finally. It feels nice. For a brief 24 hours almost 2 weeks ago, I thought things might be drastically different right at this moment, and then my hopes were shattered by indifference and detachment that was incredibly painful. But what I needed, really, to just finally let that bird fly free after a year of keeping it close to me. I know I'm being incredibly vague, but whatever. Kurt & Meredith's wedding, which was just fucking amazing, Matt Kane in town for 5 days, also amazing. It was really nice to see him, and just immediately fall back into our old groove after not seeing one another for almost 3 years.

I've been drinking wine (left over from the wedding and it's delicious!) like water while I've been writing this, and now I'm drunk. I want to go to bed.

Naked Soccer Boys

So last night I finally went to a meeting of GLBTSA group at St. Eds. I've been meaning to go all semester, but just always had something else going on. I learned some interesting things, though, like that St. Eds is the only Catholic university in Texas that has a GLBTSA group, and one of like, only 3, I believe, in the whole country. And apparently St. Eds has been attracting some attention among the upper Brothers of the Holy Cross for all of their "liberalism" and gay organizations. It's pretty frowned upon, I guess, and most people attribute it to the fact that St. Eds is in Austin, as opposed to say, San Antonio or something. One more reason to love Austin.

I've been thinking a lot about teaching lately too. It seems like something I'd maybe like to pursue, along with having a practice. I can't help it, I love academia. I realize now how much time I wasted avoiding school and having a real job and real life. But I guess I wasn't ready for it yet, and I didn't actually waste the time. I learned a lot, about myself, about life, about people. I'd love to teach some kind of psych class on sexuality, or maybe the history of the treatment of sexual "neuroses" in the psychiatric field. Or maybe just a class on interpersonal relationships. That would be cool, too.

Anyway, after the meeting last night, the evening was so beautiful, I walked to the north side of campus that has a stunning view overlooking the city. The sun was setting, the storm clouds were rolling in, and the air was breezy and cool. I sat down to take in the view for a bit, when I looked down the hill at the soccer field below where I sat, and noticed that the boys soccer team had apparently just finished a practice. They were all sitting in a group on the ground, getting lectured by their coach, but most of them had their shirts off. So I quickly forgot about the city view, and the sunset, and the incoming storm. When they were done "huddling," or whatever you call it, they all stood up to leave and collect their things.... and started stripping. On the field. While people stood around, including parents and whatnot. It was amazing. They all just literally removed their pants to put other shorts and jeans on. Most of them were wearing little square-cut black or gray athletic brief things, but a couple of them were just wearing plain 'ole white briefs. And there they were, on the soccer field, standing in them. It was truly unbelievable. But I feel blessed to have witnessed it.

Okay, now this guy is my new Hero

And will the "mainstream, liberal" media pick up on this? Doubtful. Be sure to watch the video.

I mean, seriously, how can Bush sleep at night? It totally boggles the mind.

One More Reason to Love Russ Feingold

In addition to outspokenly calling for a censure of President Bush, he has now shown public support for gay marriage.

"I will be voting against the harsh amendment that's been proposed in Wisconsin, and I thought it was an appropriate occasion to indicate my feeling that if two people care enough about each other to get married, that it probably is a positive thing for society," he said.

"Gay and lesbian people in our country are fighting a mean-spirited movement to harm them and to discriminate against them," he added. "I stand with them against that movement, and I'm proud to stand with them."

Maybe after the last 6 miserable years, in another 2, sanity and reason will return to our national politics. I'm certainly not holding my breath, but I haven't completely lost hope.

God is Gay

Pink News UK, which is apparently a gay news site from the UK (go figure) has an interesting article today about a website that seeks to uproot homophobia from Christianity by displaying a series of paintings done by people portraying Biblical stories from a gay perspective. A quote:


"Every time a gay gets bashed, Jesus is crucified again," said Kittredge Cherry, lesbian author and founder of the new website. "The anti-gay movement uses religion to justify discrimination, so even atheists can see the value in uprooting homophobia from Christian tradition."

Artists who dare to put the Easter story in a queer context have had their work destroyed, if they can find a way to exhibit it at all. Now these images are available on the internet.

Um, okay. But their heart is in the right place. It reminds me of when I was 21, and had just moved to Austin, when my artistic spirit was still very much in the punk rock ethos of "destroying the state" or whatever you want to call it. I had planned on making a sort of softcore gay porn film filled with religious imagery, like two men engaging in S&M and tying each other up with rosaries and eroticizing the crucifixion and bloodletting, all while sound bites of assholes like Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell were playing. For some reason I thought if I made it, a lot of people would see it and be totally scandalized. I was going to shoot it on super-8 and have a lot of red in it. I even wrote out a shot sheet and talked to a couple of guys who were basically willing to fuck on film for me. But alas, it never materialized, and I'm sure it's just as well. I don't know if I got lazy or just decided it was stupid.

Anyway, you can see the gay Jesus pictures here.

Dead Celebrities

My friend Bill had a party tonight with a dead celebrities theme. I finally got to wear my Michael Hutchence "costume" that I've alway wanted to wear for Halloween, but it's always been too cold. A wife-beater, white boxers, and a belt around my neck. and everyone knew who I was. That was exciting.

And I met Daniel. Daniel is 31. Daniel is getting his PHD in behavioral psychology. and Daniel is sexy as hell. He was dressed as Roy Rogers, but everyone thought he was supposed to be Jack Twist. I'm sure nothing will happen, but damn. That's all I have to say.

Best Craigslist "Missed Connection" ever?

I'm sorry, I just can't resist.



I'M SORRY I CHOKED YOU - M4M

We've been doing the dance for months. Finally after work today, we both got a lot more than the nerve up. I am so sorry that you got choked and that I freaked out when my stuff came out your nose. PLEASE lets give this another chance. You were really great for a first time. See you at 5am, man.

* this is in or around UPS parking lot
* no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Everything. Everyone. Everywhere. Ends.

Yesterday Chris and I started watching season 5 of Six Feet Under. We've been planning to watch it together for weeks now, and he ordered it on Netflix a long time ago. He got a message yesterday that discs 2, 3 and 4 were on their way, but there was a wait for disc 1. So, being probably as obsessive about it as I am, he went on a city-wide trek to find disc 1, but no one in town had it. When I got home from school at 3:30, I tried one last place, and they had it!!!! So I rushed to the Movie Store and picked it up, and went to Chris' house.

We're the biggest geeks. Before we started watching it, we walked to the gas station and got some snacks (beer, Gatorade, ice cream and peanuts). Then we pulled down the blinds and settled in on the couch for the first 2 episodes. We commented on how much we loved the opening sequence and when Lili Taylor's name popped up as a guest star, we both groaned. "That's not a character they need to bring back," Chris muttered. I agreed.

As the first episode began unfolding, everything seemed off. A little too stable, maybe. I started to get worried that maybe everyone on the show was too happy, or content, and the show had suddenly lost its steam. Who wants to watch Six Feet Under without neurosis, misery and suffering? That's what the show is all about. Turns out my fears were unfounded: within 20 minutes, the catastrophe and heartache were already being piled on. Whew. I breathed a sigh of relief. Brenda's still completely miserable, Nate's still a total shithead, Billy's still crazy. Ruth's character has seem to taken a very interesting turn towards bitterness and regret since last season ended, and I have to say I'm not crazy about the direction Clare's heading. But we all saw it coming. I hope it doesn't last. But Keith and David's relationship seems to have taken a sweet, tender turn, which makes me happy. They both need to get over themselves and just be fucking happy already. Or break up. Jesus. David had a great line in the first episode. One of their clients at the funeral home is a woman who died by getting stabbed in the eye by her husband. David took one look at her corpse and said, "That's what happens when couples don't learn how to fight." *Sigh*

I'm aware of a couple of pretty major plot points this season, and I'm very excited to get into it. I think Chris and I are going to try to have a marathon at some point over the weekend, or next week, maybe. We can both sit and watch at least 5 or 6 episodes at a time. I love it. Although I'll be really sad when it ends.

Kids these days are so sophisticated!

The other night as I was exiting the locker room of the gym at 24-Hour Fitness I ran into a classmate of mine, Cole, who was coming back into the locker room after a workout. I didn't notice him, but he said my name, and it took me a second to even remember who he was. He's this guy in my Spanish class that just seems like a typical dude, a jock, kind of a country boy, drives a pick-up, etc. I know these things because we reveal many personal details about ourselves in Spanish class. I'm serious.

Anyway, we chatted for a bit, and I asked him where he lived, since he was up at the Hancock 24-Hour, and he said on campus. When I suggested that it was a long drive all the way up here just to work out when there was a gym on campus, he kind of shrugged it off, saying he got a better workout here. Hmmm....

So I leave, thinking nothing of this exchange until later that night when I check my email and have a notification that Cole has "written" on my wall on Facebook. (A brief diversion: Facebook is sort of the university equivalent of MySpace, only you have to have a valid university email address to sign up, but it's worldwide. And it's big. I think everyone on this campus is on it. Including me, though I only have 2 "friends," because I only vaguely know about 2 people here. And "writing on someone's wall" is like posting a comment, where everyone can see it; it's not a secret message. It's public.)

So, Cole has written something along the lines of "I was surprised to run into you at the club tonight. I figured we would have run into each other somewhere else by now. Good luck on your Spanish test tomorrow."

WTF? What did he mean by he "figured we would have run into each other by now?" Where? So I check out his profile, and though it says he's interested in dating women (and he was born in 1985!!!), it also says his "current relationship status" is an "open relationship with...." and had some guy's name. John or something. So I click on that guy's profile, and he's a baseball player at Rice.

I must say, I was quite surprised by the whole ordeal. And slightly intrigued. Is this what the kids are doing these days?

I'm Waking Up to Us

In two months you-know-who and I will have been broken up for a year. I was talking to Brad about it on the phone the other night (I hope he doesn't mind my talking about this), and he said, "Doesn't it seem like the year that you were together was SO much longer than the year that you've been broken up?" And I was all, "Yes!" because I had just been thinkng that earlier.

I guess it can be attributed to a lot of things: this past year has brought a lot of pretty serious life changes, from having surgery to going to school to moving apartments to quitting my job. I think things like that just make time go by faster. But I also realized that my year with He Who Shall Remain Nameless was so fraught with anxiety and tension and second-guessing myself that I didn't even realize (which, I guess I do now, in retrospect) how unhappy that relationship made me in a lot of ways. Don't get me wrong, it was incredible and wonderful and fun and affirming in its own ways; I wouldn't trade that year for anything. And it just felt really, really good to actually be in love again, but overall I think it was probably pretty unhealthy (g'duh!).

Anyway, it's interesting to think back on those times and be able to come to this kind of intellectual discovery about them. It's weird. It doesn't make it hurt any less (and believe me, I'm still hurting), but at least I can be more objective about it now than I used to be able to.

I Just Might Find I'll be Killing Time for Eternity

Wow, I suppose it's been awhile, hasn't it? 2 weeks, to be exact. My "new" laptop has been all kinds of fucked up, and after taking it to the stupid fucking "Genius Bar" at the Apple store in the Barton Creek mall three times last week, on Saturday they finally sent it off to be repaired. But I got it back last night, and everything seems to be working beautifully, including the new keyboard and my new Airport card I bought for it. Having true wireless is very exciting. But I suppose that's a bad excuse, as I have access to computers at school (where I am now, in fact) and the library.

To be honest, I've been quite busy and had lots going on, but I feel really weird about all of it for some reason. Greedy, I guess, like I just don't feel like sharing much these days. Partly I guess it just doesn't seem like it would be that interesting to people, but partly I've also just been very wrapped up in my own head.

Collier left yesterday to go back to California. I'm inordinately sad about it, but the full heft of not being able to call her up and see if she wants to have dinner, or have her call me to drink whisky and play pool (or whatever) hasn't yet sunk in, I don't think. I'm used to her coming and going, but she was here for almost a year this last time, and I got really comfortable having her around. But she needs to move on, even though I already miss the shit out of her.

I've also gone to 2 orientation sessions for some volunteer work I'm going to start doing with Project Transitions, and in turn, Doug's House and at Roosevelt Gardens. This was all originally through the GLBTSA club at school, but ironically enough, none of them showed up to the orientations (it's ironic, I guess, because I haven't gone to a single GLBTSA meeting, though I'm on their mailing list, and their President is in my Personality class and I talk to him occasionally). They only do them once a month, so everyone else from the club that's interested is supposed to be going to those. Anyway, at Roosevelt Gardens we were planning to do some general maintenance, upkeep, landscaping, stuff like that, and provide a monthly meal/social gathering for the residents to come and mingle with one another and get out of their apartments. We're helping to foster a sense of community there. A lot of people living there have gone through some really rough times, and feel very isolated from their friends and families and are trying to get back on their feet from some pretty devastating blows, so anything we can do to help facilitate that would be nice.

Independently, however, I also want to start volunteering at Doug's House, which is a hospice. The work there would certainly be less glamourous and much more taxing, both emotionally and physically, but it also seems quite rewarding. They're both run by the same people, and there's a special orientation for that one on Saturday, which I unfortunately can't attend because I'm working. But I can go to the one next month. It's a little scary deciding to commit my time to this stuff, for a lot of reasons. There are risks, both emotional and physical (though having sex, with anyone, is probably riskier than working at Doug's House, even though "exposure" is possible, and does happen), but I think it will be worth it. If nothing else, I need to start padding my resume, and secondly, I need to start getting experience with this stuff and learning how to really deal with it on a day-to-day, reality-based basis. I do, in fact, deal with it in my life on a day-to-day basis now, as many of you know, but it's a little bit different than in this capacity.

Anyway, Clay was here last week for SXSW, and stayed with me for a few days. It was nice seeing him again. I acted in one of Laura's films (in a part she wrote just for me - "A slight gay man, wearing a spectacular pair of aviator sunglasses" -) which is nice. And it was fun to shoot.

Hmmm. I can't really think of much else to write about. There's 5 weeks in Mexico coming up, which will be really fun, I think. But it's about time to get to class, so that will have to wait.

Also, Karen's coming in tonight, and staying with me!!!!!!!! I'm so excited. We barely got to talk at all last time she was here, but tonight will be a whole night of talking, whisky and cuddling. I can't wait.

Ear Nose & Throat, part Dos

Firstoff, I want to apologize forthe way this looks. The spacebar on my computer that I'veonly had for 2 weeks is already sticking and it'sa huge pain in theass. Luckily the refurbs have warranties so I'mtaking it in this weekend.

Secondly, i spent 3hours in the emergency room this afternoon. About 2 months ago I was having a lovely Friday night dinner at Thai Passion with Kurt, Meredith and Bill, when the underside ofmy tongue on the left side starting burning as if I had a spice caught underneath it or something. And then my gland started swelling. Up to about the size of a ping-pong ball. After about 20 minutes it went down and I didn't think much more of it.

Jump to several weeks later, againwith Kurt & Meredith, eating pizza, and it happens again. This time, however, it went down even quicker than before, so again, Ijust shrugged it off.

Today, however, I was eating breakfast at home before class, and it starts happening again, only it never really goes down. So after about 5 hours (after I get out ofclass and go to work and tell them I need to leave), I take myself tothe emergency room.

After I wait for 2 and a half hours, I meet with a doctor for about 3 minutes who looks inside my mouth and tellsme I need to see an ear, nose & throat specialist. So I guess I'm gonna go see the guy next week that did my surgery for me last summer.

Anyway, turns out I have a blocked salivary gland on my left side. Which means that, much like a kidney stone, whenever I eat, and my gland produces saliva, it's clogged onthat side and instead of the saliva going into my mouth where it's supposed to be, it just builds up in my gland, thus causing it to inflate. The doctor said there was no infection, and was probably just some kind of blockage. I can probably flush it out by sucking on lemons or sour candy, but if not, it may require surgery. Let's hope to god it doesn't come to that.

It's pretty gross, but it doesn't particularly hurt, or inhibit my breathing, so I guess it's not a huge crisis. But it is uncomfortable and a little scary.

Overheard at St. Edwards

Girl: I'm gonna get alocohol poisoning. What's that called?
Boy: What?
Girl: Like, when your body starts rejecting alcohol?
Boy: Really drunk?

Undergrads are fucking awesome.

And on a self-congratulatory note, all of my professors submitted progress reports for me this week, and I have A's in all of my classes!

Also, if anyone's interested, Pink is the New Blog currently has some interesting links up. Well, maybe not that interesting, but definitely H.O.T. If you're into that sort of sleazy celebrity porn thing. Get 'em while they're hot.

Escape to New York

So, I've decided: I'm moving to New York this summer. Not permanently, just for the summer. In all likelihood, just for July and August, in fact. Collier is going to be house-sitting for her friend Ruth, who is going to be in Argentina all summer. Collier needs a roommate, and Ruth lives in Prospect Heights, so the chips are already falling into place. The only logistical hurdle I see is subletting my apartment for 2 months. But hopefully that won't be a problem. And what to do with Littlejeans. I'm a little concerned about that as well.

I love Austin, but sometimes (well, just lately) I feel like I'm being slowly suffocated here. I haven't spent any significant amount of time outside of this city in 7 years and I desperately need a change of scenery, some new stimulation. In the past I've had a habit of running away from things I don't want to deal with, and since "settling" here in Austin, I haven't really felt that urge too too much. But I'm feeling it now. I don't want to move, so I think just spending the summer someplace else would be just the trick. It's an exciting prospect and I'm really looking forward to it. I have somewhat of a love/hate relationship with New York, and last time I was there was August, and I thought it was miserable. So hopefully I'll be thrilled to return to Austin in September, rejuvenated and refreshed, happy to be Home.

The best compliment I've ever received....?

If someone who's met me only 4 times can say to me, "You have more truth and hope in you than probably anyone else I've ever met," then I think I'll be all right.

Sums up the spirit of the day....

I hope Collier won't mind my sharing, but she sent me the most perfect Valentine greeting ever. Especially in light of recent events....

Seriously. The best ever. I love her more than can ever be expressed for always having the perfect thing.

More Pretend Boyfriends*

For some reason, I think I'm totally in love with Ryan Reynolds. I just caught like, the last 45 minutes of this monster on Oxygen.

While the movie, obvs, was terrible, I found Ryan utterly watchable every second that he was on the screen. And we all know how I feel about Just Friends.

*copyright Kris.

Parental Advisory Warning

I had about a 45-minute meeting this morning with a professor in the English department about my short story I gave him last week. I gave it to my Lit professor first, and he had wonderful things to say about it, and recommended that I let this other guy read it. Which he did. It was very sweet of him to do so, as I'm not even one of his students; he had no idea who I was when I walked into his office and out of the blue asked him if he would read my short story and give me feedback. Which he did. It was very thoughtful and instructive, and I could tell he spent a lot of time on it, as the margins were full of notes.

But he said he liked the story very much, found it "moving" and "sad," and said that I wrote "elegant sentences." But he also had a lot of recommendations, and while even he admitted they were mostly "cosmetic," urged me to really think about them and take them or leave them. Then he gave me the name of the new head of the "fiction" branch of the English department, and told me to have him read it, and see what he thought about the suggested recommendations. Which I'm going to do this week.

This is why I love school. This guy also seemed to think that, despite the very explicit nature of the story, that I should have no problem finding some literary journals to publish it, as long as I did my research and sent to ones whose editors liked "edgier, more boundary-pushing material" (his words). I left his office filled with glee.

I also got my written essay exam from my Lit class back today that I took on Friday. We had 50 minutes to write 3 essays about 2 short stories and a novel, and I was pretty worried about how I did. Turns out I got a 98.

Today's been a good day.

And he stumbled over his words in the most endearing way

Who is this man in front of me? He sounds like a redneck and who the hell has ever heard of DeSoto, Texas? He wore a brown belt with black shoes.

But we 2-stepped and sang along to George Strait. At first we were stepping all over each other, but eventually we got into a groove and even got comfortable doing twirls. We were all over that dance floor.

We ended up talking about James Baldwin and Ayn Rand. He was married once for a year and a half when he was 23. Funny.

I got to the St. Edwards library 3 minutes before they closed in order to print out my paper that's due tomorrow morning at 8, because we spent so much time kissing in his car.

"I wasn't expecting that."

We argued about who lunged for who first. Ultimately it doesn't matter.

I ran into my therapist. We chatted for a bit. Goddamn, I miss that guy. He's so awesome.

Good night.

Tragic news from Arkansas

I don't know if any of you have been following the story of the man suspected in a gun and machete attack in a gay bar in Massachusetts, but apparently he somehow ended up in Arkansas, where he killed a woman and a police officer and was shot in the head and died.

It's a terrifying, but sort of mesmerizing, story. I wish I knew how he ended up in Arkansas from Massachusetts (maybe just passing through on his way somewhere else?), but this story has really caught my attention recently. Too bad it had to have such a gruesome ending.

Marathon Insanity.

Somebody's paying attention!

Go get him, Ladies!!!

Now, where's my god damn Missed Connection?!??

Myers-Briggs

In my Theories of Personality class today we had a guest speaker from the career center come in and talk to us about how the career advisement center uses the Myers-Briggs Personality Test, among other tests, to help students determine what direction their education and careers should take. I've taken the test before, and am a pretty solid INFP, meaning "Introverted Intuitive Feeling Perceiver. A mini-profile:

"INFPs are quiet, creative, sensitive and perceptive souls who often strike others as shy, reserved and cool. These folks have a rare capacity for deep caring and commitment--both to the people and causes they idealize. INFPs guide their behavior by a strong inner sense of values, rather than by conventional logic and reason. Forced to cope with this facts-and-figures "real" world we inhabit, INFPs may appear to have been imported from another galaxy! They gravitate toward creative or human service careers which allow them to use their instinctive sens of empathy and remarkable communication skills. Strongly religious, spiritual or philosophical people, INFPs may see the purpose of their lives as an inner journey, quest or personal unfolding. More practical or rational types may tend to discredit the INFP's sources of understanding as mystical. The search for a soulmate is a preoccupation for many INFPs, who must balance their need for privacy and peace with their yearning for human connection. If there seems to be an air of sadness in the INFP's spirit, blame it on this type's longing for the perfect in all things."

Does that sound like me? Inherently, they are classified by their "idealism" and sensitivity and altruistic tendencies. And you know what the #1 job listing is for people who fit into this category (which I didn't know until today)? Psychologist! That was exciting.

If anyone else out there has taken the test, or wants to take it now, I'd be very interested to know how you turn out. I love this stuff.

Incredible but terrifying

Someone needs to erect a statue to this woman. She is a true Patriot.

Don't Look Now

Has anyone ever had the kind of nightmare where nothing actually happens, but it's infused with such a sense of dread and foreboding that you wake up with your heart racing, and absolutely paralyzed with fear?

I can't even begin to really get into what exactly was going on in the dream, or what all the symbolism must mean, except to say that it all seems to have a lot of echoes of my past. It started out with my being all alone in Dallas, downtown somewhere, at night, and there was a serial killer in the area that hadn't yet been caught. It was some kind of dwarf who would break into children's rooms and cut up their faces and throats with a scalpel. And while this didn't happen in the dream, I was aware of its happening, and I was terrified and lost, and I don't remember what I was doing there.

Then it shifted to my childhood bedroom I had until I was 15. I was the age I am now, and sleeping in it, and wondering why, and the door was shut, and I could see, through the light at the bottom of the door, footsteps, and I just knew that it was the weird dwarf/monster thing, having come to kill me, and I was wondering why my parents weren't saving me, and why, being almost 30-years-old, I couldn't get out of bed and save myself.

Then I woke up, and it was still dark and I was short of breath, and almost felt like I was having a panic attack.

Very weird. It's times like these I wish I was still going to therapy.

Getting my soul in order

I've started to locate a lot of areas in my life that cause me very specific anxiety, and ways that I can start fixing them. Paying my bills on time. I always avoid opening bills because I find the whole act of doing that, and paying them, horribly depressing, so I just don't. But then they become late, and I wrack up fees, and creditors call me, and this causes me untold amounts of stress and depression, and it's all my fault, and if I would just pay my fucking bills on time, when I get them, this would never happen. And I wouldn't have to spend nearly as much money. duh.

So yesterday I bit the bullet and paid off everything I owe, including this super lame-o $103 fee to Time Warner Cable that I was just going to ignore since I no longer have Time Warner Cable, but I wanted to get them off my back. So now my bank account is significantly less (I had several issues pending), but I felt much better about it all, and I'm totally caught up on everything now. It feels nice.

I've also discovered that while I used to find television comforting (as some kind of "companionship," or portal to the outside world to fend off loneliness), that now I realize it depresses the hell out of me. Which I'm taking as a sign of maturity. I can sit in my living room and listen to music and do absolutely nothing, and feel less lonely than if I'm watching TV. And frankly, I find it very comforting that I feel this way. The passivity of it, I think, is what I find so bothersome. And the constant yammering of commercials and stupid people and laugh tracks.

I started reading The Art of Loving, by Erich Fromme yesterday, who was a very prominent psychologist in the 50's and 60's (very Christian-based and homophobic, too, but he was otherwise very intelligent, and everybody was homophobic in the 50's), and he talks a lot about love being an "activity, in the modern usage of the word...usually meant to bring about a change in an existing situation by means of an expenditure of energy." But then he goes on to talk about a man "driven to incessant work by a sense of deep insecurity and loneliness" actually being quite "passive," because he is a slave of his passion, and "his activity is in reality a 'passivity' because he is driven; he is the sufferer, not the 'actor.'" But then he goes on to say that a man sitting, doing nothing but meditating quietly and contemplating "with no purpose or aim except that of experiencing himself and his oneness with the world, is considered to be 'passive'...in reality, this attitude of concentrated meditation is the highest activity there is, an activity of the soul, which is possible only under the condition of inner freedom and independence." and on and on.

I thought this passage was particularly interesting because one thing my therapist and I dealt with quite a bit was my inability to be "in the moment," most of the time, and feeling like I always had to be looking to the future, or some pie-in-the-sky goal or whatever. I could never (and still can't, really, but I'm working on it) just take things day by day, or even moment by moment. Like, it's hard for me to sit still in a relationship and just enjoy it, or the moment, because I always want to know what's coming next, what everything "means," or why something is, or isn't, happening. I love it when I can read something like Fromme and immediately apply it to my life, and understand their wisdom and where they're coming from and what they're talking about. My constant restlessness: a sign of inner turmoil and insecurity (in a nutshell). Powerful stuff.

I'm also loving Mahler's Symphony No. 6: Tragic these days. It's on pretty much constantly. It doesn't sound tragic. It sounds like sunshine. Maybe that's the tragedy.

Val

Today was beautiful.

Somebody give me a job immediately

I've become addicted to watching Oprah lately. Well, the last 2 days. Today she has the cast of Brokeback Mountain on, and talk about taking a great film and turning it into meaningless drivel. And Anne Hathaway is about 16 brain cells short of a pear.

Somebody should give Courtney Love her own talk show. Now that would be worth watching. Imagine the possibilities.... Especially if she only had people on that she hated.

Also, I really love all these new Ebay commercials that have "Daydream Believer" playing. I heart that song.

Scabs

So, um, is it like, a prerequisite that to work at Thundercloud Subs you have to look like a homeless person? Or maybe they only hire homeless people? Like a McJobs program or something, but for worn-out hipster junkies instead of retarded kids? Just wondering.

However, I think I discovered my new favorite coffee shop. Or, well, at least my new favorite barista. At Clementine, on the east side, that I didn't even know existed until yesterday. Anyway, the barista, yeah. Delicious.

To borrow a phrase from Kris, Pretend Boyfriends everywhere.

Seems I'm not the only one who felt the way I did....

Salon's take on the James Frey episode of Oprah today. Interesting.

Oprah Winfrey is a schmuck

Does anyone really care about all of this James Frey debacle? I mean, really? I've read the book (I read it last summer during my "memoir phase"), and it seems to me that people should be more upset about the fact that the writing in it is just really bad.

I'm currently watching the Oprah episode referenced in the above article, and it's really painful. Honestly, how many "memoirs" or biographies (that are interesting at all) aren't a little embellished? To me, the point of a memoir is still to tell a compelling story, and does it really fucking matter whether his girlfriend committed suicide by hanging or by wrist-slitting? The point still comes across, and ultimately the book is about drug and alcohol recovery, not about the tiny details. There is still much to be learned and gained from it.

Oprah is being a total hard-ass on this guy, and she's as much as admitted that she's really embarrassed about promoting and defending the book last week, but it seems to me that she's slightly scapegoating this guy. If she's going to go on Larry King Live and vehemently defend him and basically say the exact same thing I just said in the above paragraph, then when she's attacked by her audience, she should stand her ground, and not suddenly reverse position and invite him onto the show to more or less put him in shackles and let the whole audience throw rocks at him for an hour. It's cowardly and malicious, and, at least in my opinion, makes her look just as bad and fake as it makes him look. What a fucking bitch. And a fake.

I don't care if James Frey spent 3 years in jail, or 3 hours. That's not what I took away from the book, and maybe I'm being too lenient, but that's just how I see it. The bigger truth of the book is still the the Truth of his recovery. God, and she has all these journalists on the show like Joel Stein (nice career there!) and Maureen Dowd talking about how awful James Frey is and how Oprah should "kick his butt" and when Oprah admits she was wrong, she gets applauded. But when Frey says he wrote things as he "remembered them" (including with some documentation), he gets roundly booed and Oprah sits there smirking, taking it all in.

Big fucking deal. I think Frey is a pompous ass, and his book isn't even that good, but still, I feel a little sorry for him.

The Unnatural State

God bless Arkansas. Literally. John Brown University in Siloam Springs has dismissed a student whose parents are employed there because he's gay, and in order for him to stay, his "lifestyle" was too restrictive.

Money quote:
"According to Guinn, he was told to not dress in women's clothing, not slap others on the buttocks if he was a member of a sports team, not hug or shake hands with other men for too long, not "broadcast" his lifestyle, and not tell other students he was gay until he knew them well."

I love he can't shake hands with other men for too long.

PS

Seriously, I never wanna drink again. At least not until tomorrow.

After "writing" that last nonsensical blog entry, I passed back out for like, another hour. Now it's 2, I'm vaguely sick to my stomach and totally not tired. Shit.

Mark says I should blog more when I'm drunk because it's funny.

The capsule bore precious cargo

Whew! I just woke up from a 2-hour nap, if you wanna call it that. I went to a Tribeza happy hour earlier today at Santa Rita, right around the corner from my house. Unfortunately, they had free tequila shots, of which I had 7. Or maybe 8, I'm not sure (the kind I liked the most was created in barrels that had been used to make Maker's Mark, since they're made by the same people; delicious!). And that was after having a very strong margarita right when I got there. I came home and kind of collapsed, but not before drunk-dialing a couple of people (luckily, I no longer have a certain person's phone number in my phone). I was supposed to go to the first meeting of the gay and lesbian whatever at St. Edwards, but since I got home around 7:40, and could barely stand up, and their meeting started at 8, I didn't make it. I feel really bad; the leader of the group is in my Theories of Personality class and made a point of introducing himself to me this afternoon, and welcoming me to the club. Oops. Oh well, I'm sure it's just a bunch of 20-year-old undergrads anyway.

I should stop being so snobby. I guess I'm going to be awake all night, now. Great.

My teen-angst bullshit has a body count

The past can be very dangerous if you let it; or very funny. I'm at home tonight, bored, lonely, a little drunk on too much wine, now moving on to whisky, hoping to become much more drunk. Listening to Slowdive way too loud (am I in a Gregg Araki movie right now?). So, I started going through the junk drawer in my dresser and came across an old journal I started keeping, I would say, probably right before I moved to Austin when I was 21. None of the entries are dated, but I vaguely recall actually writing some of them. Anyway, it's been quite the trip down Memory Lane. I was so emotional (was....) and totally hung up on a friend of mine from college, and, as I note in the journal, apparently had been for the entire 3 years prior and thought my world was ending because he just had so many girlfriends. Even though I also had a boyfriend at the time, this guy ruled my world. It's so hard to think back on that now. I've been in very sporadic and superficial contact with said boy over the past few years, and it's hilarious to think back on how obsessed over him I was! Kind of puts things in perspective, I guess.

The journal is also full of lots of wonderful poems I wrote back then (Jesus, I was angry!) about being heartbroken, detesting "punk rock boys" and their $80 pants and their stupid music and their girlfriends and how fake they all are, and how in love with all of them I am (among various other topics). I would never in a million years share those poems with anyone, but I picked out the least embarrasing one, and decided that in the interest of repaying my loyal readers, I would post it here for you all to get a good chuckle. But brace yourself, because it's hilarious (and keep in mind that this is the only one I would even consider sharing. Enjoy!

Coins in my hand
ultimately mean nothing,
but flesh against flesh
Sudden shock and
disgusted stares.
Take it again and just hold it there forever.
Who cares what these people think?
Tonight it's just us
and this metal machine.
Songs on the radio,
and we're lost in the moment.
Was there a moment?
I think I just lost it.
A piercing thought,
a brief grope,
a slamming of doors,
and I'm back where I started.
Hunks of metal,
houses on stilts,
one more cigarette for the night.
Decaying lungs mean nothing to me
I can't breathe as it is.
The breeze blows
voices drift
and I wonder
who's really happier.
I need to sleep,
but I don't care.
Wandering beats,
more alcohol,
more consumption
and you'll be happier
more creative
and more...
in the moment.
Here and now.
The future is long
and the past
is meaningless.

Isn't that the best?!?? I think my favorite part is where I say, "we're lost in the moment, was there a moment?" I love it.

"He's like a cat that falls off the table and then starts licking its butt."

Last night was a night of firsts for me:

1. I brazenly gave a boy my phone number right in front of one of his co-workers, and several party guests. It was at a birthday party for this guy in his house far up in the hills west of Austin, seemingly miles above the city. The boy was a caterer at the party, and we had been making eyes at each other all evening (well, okay, I was only there for an hour), and he was hot hot hot. I also think he's about 20. Anyway, we'll see what comes of it. Probably nothing, I'm sure, but it sure was nice to be so obviously checked out by somebody, and then to act on that. Especially on a stunning multi-level deck built on the side of a sloping hill, covered with what seemed like hundreds of tiny candles and clear christmas lights and a dimmer light in the swimming pool, which is on the lower deck. The bar was set up on the upper deck, overlooking the city. Appropriately.

2. I sang karaoke at a crowded bar. Collier had rented part of the patio at Mother Egan's, and some other birthday party had rented the other part. They had the karaoke, but they let us play. After Kurt sang, and Dylan sang, I finally pulled up my nerve (along with several beers) and sang "Like a Friend," by Pulp. It was fun and kind of addictive, it seems. I was going to sing another one but we ran out of time.

All in all, a nice and interesting weekend so far. This afternoon, soccer lives again.

Happy Birthday, "Shorty!"

Today is Collier's birthday. We celebrated at midnight last night by leaving Laura's toasty house (after watching My Summer of Love and drinking copious amounts of wine) and driving down to Mozart's to get not just one, but two, different kinds of chocolate cheesecake and splitting them. Laura's friend Ruth was with us too. I don't know her well, but we all decided she's totally "Charlotte" from Sex and the City for myriad reasons too convoluted and silly to get into in this particular forum. Which naturally makes her extremely endearing to me. We also listened to that awful "It's your Birthday" song by 50 Cent in the car, like, 80 times. But it was wonderful. I love those girls. It makes me wish I was a lesbian.

So, Collier, happy 29. See ya in da club. I love you.

A few observations from my second day of school

1. I was urinating in the library between classes and noticed that to my left, built into the wall, was an ashtray. One of those cool, old-fashioned kinds that have the 2 pieces that open in the middle when you push the little lever, and then your cigarette butt falls down inside it. Obviously you can't smoke in the library now, but I found that so curious that at one point smoking was so ubiquitous that you could even stand at the urninal in the bathroom of the library and puff away. Jesus, no wonder our whole society is riddled with cancer.

2. I will never, ever work out at the gym there. It's in the gymnasium building, where the basketball court is, and it's totally open-air. There are always basketball players and stuff in there working out, and there are actually classrooms in the building too (I have a class in there; it's actually sort of depressing and feels like high school), and everyone has to walk by the gym to get to the classrooms and can see everybody in there working out. No thanks. I'm much too shy for that.

3. I was totally dreading taking Spanish, but i think I'm going to love that class. My teacher has a really fun, creative way of teaching that encourages lots of participation and she's really funny. Which is good, I need to know Spanish.

4. Drum circles are still alive and well among undergraduates on America's campuses.

5. Giant sunglasses that take up most of your face are totally in. Not that we didn't all already know that, but I'm just confirming it.

And last, but not least, I think I have my first Campus-Crush. It's this dude that I saw 3 different times yesterday. He's really tall and skinny, and has dark hair, and black-rimmed glasses and looks like a total geek. I'm sure these details are shocking. He actually looks like he could be old enough to be a grad student, too. I must try to learn more.

1 day of school down, a whole bunch more to go

So, I can now officially lay to rest my "first day of school jitters." It was great, and while it's hard to get too much of a feel for how the classes are going to be (except my American Experience class, which, I have a feeling, is going to require lots and lots of homework), I had a good time today.

The best story, I suppose, is my Gender Studies class. It was first, at 8 am, and when I walked in, there was this bald, quite old (like, 70's old) man wearing a fancy tie, totally geeking out with some girl in the class about opera: talking about their favorite ones, have they seen this or that. And yes, the flamboyant, old, gay man is the professor. Turns out, the entire semester is dedicated to "American, gay male writers," including my favorite author, James Baldwin. So naturally I go to his office after class to tell him how much I love James Baldwin and how thrilled I am that we're going to be studying him. So we end up getting into, like, a half hour conversation about writers and movies. He's awesome and slightly deaf, so he's pretty funny. He kind of makes a joke out of it.

Anyway, he was totally intrigued that I made films, and wants to see black-eyed, for a possible screening in class, in our James Baldwin discussion!!! It's a match made in Heaven, but I'm pretty reticent about showing that in class, for obvious reasons that anyone that's ever seen it would understand. So on Wednesday I'm taking him that, and my DVD copies of Burnt Money and Far From Heaven, both of which he's heard of, but never seen. (Hopefully I'll get them back.) He's bringing me a movie too, that he loves, which I saw in college and hated, but I'd already shot down several movies he mentioned, and hadn't seen most of the others. The guy wanted to share something, so I let him.

And aside from all that, I actually really enjoyed my Spanish class, and I think I'll like the other 2, but the jury is still out on my Theories of Personality teacher too. She seems a little dull, but I'm withholding judgement until further notice. The first day is always sort of boring.

But it was fun, and I'm really looking forward to getting in-depth on all of this. Right now I'm tired and slightly overwhelmed, but I'll get into the swing of things soon. Lots of possibilities....

Top 10

So, I struggled quite a bit this year with my Top 10 Movie List. On the one hand, I had very visceral, emotional reactions to several films that I didn't really feel like putting on the list for one reason or another, yet didn't get too emotionally involved in other films that I nonetheless thought were remarkable for other reasons. Maybe it's my inner critic trying to be too objective, and I'm afraid that if I pay too much lip service to my subjective voice, films that maybe I saw but few other people saw, might be ignored. There are several on my list this year that I feel were grossly overlooked by a lot of you that I think you should see, and I maybe included them for that reason, or just because I thought they were overlooked gems in general. I'm sure that makes no sense whatsoever to you, but it makes sense to me.

I also decided, through a lot of deliberation, not to actually "rank" them by number, but to just put up the 10 I thought were best and let my little capsule reviews speak for themselves. I know that's kind of "against the rules," but whatever. I make my own rules, bitch. So, without further adieu, here are the 10 movies I thought were the best this year (in alphabetical order). Feel free to comment, criticize, question or praise. Thanks for reading.

Brokeback Mountain – dir. Ang Lee
I hate to applaud this film for many of the same reasons everyone else does: for its bravery, it boldness, its hubris, almost, people seem to think. It’s only “brave” because people make it so, and frankly, I find all of that a bit insulting. (Does no one remember River Pheonix and Keanu Reeves “playing gay” in My Own Private Idaho, like, a million years ago?) What I wish to applaud this movie for is its intelligence, its innate understanding of human nature, and the power of shame and repression to ruin lives, and its humanity. This is a film, indeed, that can change America, as many critics have claimed, and I hope it does. It is profoundly important (sadly, but that’s the way it is), but again, only because of the current nature of politics, but that’s not why I think it’s a great film. It is a tragic love story in its truest and most fundamental sense, and it’s heartbreaking. Pure and simple. Heath Ledger steals the show as a man ripped apart by grief and longing, but not all at once: slowly and agonizingly over a period of years, and who only too late faces his own demons and fears.

Capote – dir. Bennett Miller
An absolute tour-de-force. This film has everything a great film should have: a flawless script, a spiritual dilemma of Biblical proportions, a gut-wrenching climax, and the performance of the decade by Phillip Seymour Hoffman. This film boldly shows that what drives a man can also destroy a man; that art can not only be redemptive, but also a force for destruction. I didn’t know going in that Capote never completed another book after In Cold Blood, but the film makes it clear that this is so, and why. Without question. The closing scene left me feeling as if my guts had been ripped out and dumped onto the floor. It took sitting through the credits, and then several minutes afterward, the theater long since emptied and now silent, for me to even collect myself enough to stand and walk, and exit the building. I felt weak and used up, like my own life had been visited by devastation. A truly unforgettable and life-changing film.

Just Friends – dir. Roger Kumble
Yeah, I know it’s retarded, but any movie that makes me laugh as much as Just Friends did deserves a place on this list. Possibly the funniest movie I’ve seen in years. Predictable, cookie-cutter and dumb, yes, but I wanted to marry Ryan Reynolds after I saw it. I watched it alone and was still in hysterics on my couch. I could probably watch this movie over and over and cry laughing every time.

Millions – dir. Danny Boyle
Simply put, one of the smartest, sweetest, and most charming kid’s films ever made. Its innocence made me weep, and I wanted everyone I knew to go see it. I think it was grossly underrated, and has the ability to make you see all the possibilities in the world. I hope lead 5-year-old actor Alexander Nathan Etel has a long future ahead of him. His wide-eyed mysticism and confusion could make all of us rethink our priorities.

My Summer of Love – dir. Pawel Pawlikowski
Like Heavenly Creatures before it, My Summer of Love tells the story of 2 girls from vastly different backgrounds (working class tomboy Mona, and the upper-class, prep school Tasmin) sharing an intense summer together, drawn together by their mutual disillusionment and abandonment by their families. Naturally, their relationship turns sexual, obsessive and bordering on the pathological, both girls getting in slightly over their heads and getting their first real tastes of love. It’s a “coming of age” film where very little actually happens, but it’s rich in character and atmosphere, and a sense of foreboding that’s both mesmerizing and almost unbearable. Both actresses are phenomenal, and the heartbreaking ending somehow manages to be both shocking and completely predictable. You don’t think they’ll go there, but they do, and it’s gut-wrenching.

Mysterious Skin – Dir. Gregg Araki
Araki (thankfully) abandons his redundant and progressively empty in-your-face, punk rock ethos, but not his style, in this sensitive, shattering portrayal of the devastating effects of childhood sexual abuse. The performances by Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Brady Corbett as the teenage victims coming to terms in ways that couldn’t be more opposite of one another (one violently and recklessly acting out, the other retreating inward into a solitary world of loneliness and delusion), were 2 of my favorite performances of the year.

9 Songs – dir. Michael Winterbottom
For anyone who’s ever loved and lost, or simply wondered what the hell happened when it was over and quietly faded away. A starkly simple film based on 2 people who seem to care deeply about one another, but eventually, in the simplest terms possible, just run out of things to talk about. Quietly devastating, and filled with an aching loneliness that will be familiar to anyone who’s ever missed a lover’s touch so much they wore their sadness like a heavy coat.

Pride and Prejudice – dir. Joe Wright
This movie made me feel like I was in love again. A perfect love story of 2 people destined to be together but fighting it desperately. Contains all the elements of the perfect romance, with one of the most fulfilling payoffs in modern cinema history. I could even forgive Mr. Darcy emerging through a post-dawn fog, his coat billowing behind him, to retrieve his woman in the shuddering climax.

Rize – dir. David LaChappelle
I have to admit to a lot of skepticism, seeing as how this was a documentary directed by LaChappelle, in my opinion, one of the most overrated photographers working today. However, I was entirely unprepared for what I saw. What I saw moved me, made me cry, absolutely broke my heart, and made me believe in the salvation of art (well, confirmed by belief in the salvation of art). This film could rouse even the most cynical of hearts and broken of souls.

The Squid and the Whale – dir. Noah Baumbach
A hilarious but ultimately heartbreaking film about a family falling apart, and the confused children left in the wake. Jeff Daniels is spectacular as the pretentious, emotionally impenetrable, liberal elitist father a breath’s whisper away from falling apart but doing everything in his power to deny it. Jesse Eisenberg, as the son, Walt, who mindlessly mimics his father, but eventually learns better, displays a wisdom and disillusionment few actors his age could convincingly pull off. Laura Linney, as always, is lovely.

Runners-up:
5x2
Batman Begins
Gunner Palace
Jarhead
King Kong
March of the Penguins
Roll Bounce
War of the Worlds

The Absolute Worst of the Worst:
Happy Endings
You, Me and Everyone We Know
Palindromes
Cursed
House of Wax

Best Director: Bennett Miller (Capote)
Best Actor: Phillip Seymour Hoffman (Capote)

Biggest Disappointment: Bad Education - dir. Pedro Almodovar

I have too been playing with 52 cards.

So, as anyone who knows me well knows, I'm a very nervous person. I'm prone to nail-biting, knuckle-cracking, constant fidgeting, twitchy eyes, insomnia, getting completely stressed out over entirely inconsequential events, thinking everything is the end of the world and that my life is ruined, and so on and so forth.

My most acute anxiety typically occurs at night after I decide to go to bed, usually because I can no longer even keep my eyes open or stop yawning. But then, like clockwork, as soon as my head hits the pillow and I turn out the light, I'm wide awake (often for hours). I've resorted to a variety of measures to try to counteract this in the last few months, the most effective being a Xanax with a glass of wine. But I'm out of Xanax, and doing that makes it almost impossible to get out of bed the next day unless I sleep, like, 11 hours. (In which case I get up feeling as if I've been sleeping for days, i.e., wonderful.)

So last night was one of those nights. I was already a little wound-up from a long day of dealing with financial aid options for school, picking out books, working, obsessing about the new boy I've met once, but nevertheless want to marry, even though I'm sure he has no interest in me, worrying about getting a job and how I'm going to pay my bills in school, and one small bout of spontaneous crying while I was sitting in traffic, because I'm just feeling really emotional right now for a lot of reasons.

About an hour before bed I took a Clonopin (mild anti-anxiety drug prescribed by my doctor; it's not as strong as Xanax) and drank a glass of wine. I read for awhile on the couch, and not in bed, as my doctor also instructed me to do (because I need to start associating the bed with sleeping only), and when I could literally no longer hold my eyes open, I went to bed and turned out the light. Open go the eyes. For 2 hours. After about an hour and 15 minutes, I finally got up, drank 2 pretty healthy shots of whisky, and laid on the couch to watch some TV to distract me from whatever it was bothering me. I couldn't really figure it out. Everything was rationalized: school was taken care of through my loans (tuition, books, insurance, and even about $1,300.00 left over just for me), I didn't really care that much about the boy, as I'm not even remotely interested in actually having a relationship with anyone at this point (he's just a fun distraction), I could survive at least a month or more (if I'm frugal) on the amount of money I'm going to receive in the next couple of weeks. I had no idea what was troubling me so much, but the whisky finally eventually kicked in, and around 2 I passed out, but not before resetting my alarm clock from 6:15 to 7:15.

Then this morning it hit me: I'm having the "first day of school jitters!" I thought that at the age of 28, I would be secure enough to be past all that, and not so worried about being judged by my peers (who, in all likelihood, will mostly be about 20), but apparently not. All those terrifying first days of junior high and high school are surging back on me, creating in me an anxiety I had totally forgotten about and put out of my mind for years. I was never popular in school. I always had a small group of friends, but there were certain classes (or entire years) all through grade school that were just unbearable, and sometimes downright terrifying (I got my life threatened by jocks on an almost daily basis). I know everyone suffered through this to some extent, and I'm not saying mine was any worse than anyone else's, but just maybe that I internalized it all a little more than I should have. So now that I've realized that's what it is, I feel terrified. I started freaking out earlier, questioning this whole decision to go back to school, wondering what the hell I was doing, and what in God's name made me think I could actually be a good therapist to someone? Am I just totally wasting thousands of dollars and years of my life on some other pipe-dream I'm going to be bored with as soon as I'm done?

But what it really all comes down to is that I'm terrified that some football meathead jock from fucking Lubbock or some shit is gonna decide he doesn't like the way I walk and start calling me a faggot every day in Spanish class. Or knock my books out of my hands in the halls. Or everyone's just going to think I'm a loser, and none of the graduate students will want to hang out with me (and I'm counting on hanging out with them). I'm afraid there won't be any free tables in the coffee shop on campus when I need to sit and do homework between classes and it's gonna be like in the cafeteria in junior high when all of your other friends had different lunches than you did, and you stood there like an idiot, tray in hand, scanning the sea of assholes for a place to sit and finding none, and just knowing that everybody was making fun of you for not having any friends.

There is pretty much nothing more terrifying to me in life than being judged by my peers, and until I was about 23 or so, it didn't usually go all that well. Even now I still get incredibly insecure and self-conscious about it, and more of my life than I'd like to admit is fairly well calculated to have what I consider to be the most prime "appearance" or outcome. I suppose that ultimately I'm inordinately afraid of rejection and humiliation, and going back to school just exacerbates those already rather flared-up fears. Just thinking about walking into that first class this coming Monday morning makes my fingers shake. I know I'll get used to it and I'm sure everything will be fine, and if nothing else, I'll totally win over my professors (one hopes), but me being me, I can't help but to constantly imagine the worst-case scenario.

Does that shit actually work?!??

I don't want to jinx anything, but last night at Little City there sat a man who literally took my breath away. he was the most devastatingly handsome man i've ever seen and i would have married him on the spot. i couldn't take my eyes off of him all night.

so, i go home and send him a Missed Connection on Craigslist and he actually responded, knew who i was (remembered me from the coffee shop), is actually a mo, is on MySpace and sent me his link. so i asked him on a date.

i'm literally trembling right now.

I'm sure it will amount to nothing, and he's 26, and I've sworn off anyone under at least 28, but if you could see this guy, you wouldn't blame me.

Fuhget about it

Mandy, Victor and I just went to see King Kong. If up until now, Brokeback Mountain was the movie where I'd actually cried the most, King Kong just surpassed it. I was a wreck. But it was beautiful.

Easy (As Falling Apart)

I wish everything in life didn't have to be so god damn painful all the time. Is it just like this forever? Do I just make things hard for myself by obsessing and being too sensitive? Is it low self-esteem? Is everyone else just a lot more detached than I am? Maybe it's just the holidays. Stupid Jesus.

Sorry. I'm just having a little self-pity party today.

Aliens and Dixie Chicks

Apparently this is the Christmas of the Dixie Chicks. I borrowed my sister-in-law's copy of Wide Open Spaces for the drive up from Little Rock to Rogers and listened to it the entire way (read: over 3 consecutive times). Then I got a copy of Home for Christmas, then bought a copy of Wide Open Spaces for myself at Wal-Mart today. They're both wonderful, and I am now officially a huge fan. I guess I always considered them sort of a "singles" band, but seriously, both records are nearly flawless.

Last night I sat in my kitchen with my dad, both brothers and my sister-in-law and had a very long conversation about aliens and the Bible. We actually discussed, in depth and with all seriousness, about why the aliens would have built Egypt, and what they must have been doing. I think we were all running on the assumption that aliens do actually exist, and did actually build Egypt. At least for the sake of conversation. I think my dad might actually believe it, I'm not sure. It was also sort of interesting to listen to him refute and explain away multiple Old Testament stories, attributing them to geologic activity. Neither of my parents have ever been Christians of the literal, fundamentalist type, but they are both avid Bible readers, church goers, and people of deep faith. The thing my dad explained in the most detail was how the parting of the Red Sea was supposedly caused by an earthquake and the tides pulling back or something. (I was fairly lit at that point after having consumed 2 whiskeys and almost 3 beers.) I guess explaining away the parting of the Red Sea due to an earthquake is still assuming the Red Sea did actually part, and that the whole exile from Egypt is also true, so maybe my dad is just the master of Intelligent Design, having found a perfect balance of his faith and his science. Or maybe the Moses story is actually historically accurate and I'm just ignorant. But we never did come to any conclusions as to why the aliens built Egypt. Obviously it has something to do with irrigation, but what? Beats the shit out of us.

On Friday before I left Little Rock I visited the Clinton Library. I have to admit that I was deeply moved and actually cried 3 times. Just thinking about America back then, and watching his speeches, and imagining how much promise there was, pre-Bush, pre-9/11. Just the things that administration did for civil rights, and the poor, and for education. My heart broke. I didn't get behind everything Clinton did, obviously, but it just seems like everyone in the White House back then was so smart, and committed, and progressive-thinking. I truly feel this country was headed towards a greatness it may now never realize. I'm not blaming it all on Bush of course, but he has certainly altered the tides and direction it may take generations to get back. In a lot of ways, the library was really depressing for that reason. But I'm happy I went, and if nothing else, it's an architectural masterpiece, truly stunning.

Overall, it's been a very nice trip. My nephew is 3-and-a-half now, and he's so much fun. He's really starting to form a real personality, and you can carry on semi-conversations with him, and he's becoming quite opinionated and big-mouthed. A true Cox. But more than that, he loves me. He always wants me to play with him, and carry him around, and his face lights up when I walk in the room. He loves to run up and wrap himself around my leg and then beg me to carry him around upside-down; he loves it. He thinks his brains will fall out, but he doesn't seem too concerned about it. I think for maybe the first time, I will be truly sad to leave him. My brother and sister-in-law are thinking about moving back up here from Little Rock and I hope they do. I might even come visit more. I think now that the nephew's personality is really starting to come out, I'm getting a little sad at how many of the things I'm going to miss: his school plays, soccer games, taking him out for afternoons at the movies. Fuck. I hate that kids can do this to you, and I hate that I'm not immune to it. Maybe when he gets older he can come stay with me a little bit in Austin during the summers or something. That might be nice. Who knows what the future holds.

It's also been more of an emotional vacation in other ways. My grandmother has Alzheimers and is deteriorating quickly. I had lunch with her on Saturday, and it was nice, but possibly one of the saddest things I've ever seen happened the same afternoon. I went to her house to give her some flowers and a vase I got her, and she wanted to show me a picture she had. She went to her class reunion this past summer and she said the picture was of her and a really good-looking fellow she met. I thought this was pretty strange and was intrigued until she showed me the picture, and it was of her and my grandfather from several years ago. They were married for almost 60 years, and he died from prostate cancer 6 years ago. She had found the picture in her bedroom, and had sort of decided, i guess (i have no idea how the Alzheimers brain really operates), that she had met this "fellow" there. When I tried to explain to her who it actually was, she had zero recollection of my grandfather, and was convinced she had only met this man this past summer and had never spoken to him again. In these situations, when dealing with this disease, you just have to acquiese and change the subject most of the time, which is about all I could do to keep from crying. And in some ways it made me really angry, but it's not her fault.

I'm leaving here tomorrow, aware of how much I'm leaving behind, and for the first time actually caring. I'm not sure how I feel about that. But I'll be glad to get back to my adopted home and my regular life. And all of my other family.

And I don't Understand Why I Sleep all Day

So today I talked to my old college friend Allie for 45 minutes on my drive to Dallas. Allie was the girlfriend of my freshman roommate, and we met through him. He ended up dropping out of college for various reasons at semester, but Allie and I remained friends. We haven't spoken since I first moved to Austin almost 7 years ago, but talking to her today, I realize very little has changed.

I actually started laughing to myself in the car thinking about her. We had so many adventures together. She was from Little Rock, so we went back there often to visit her parents and go to punk rock shows at Vino's. I remember being 18 and sitting in her Volvo outside Little Rock's only gay dance club, Discovery, and just wishing so badly that we could go inside but we were underage. We thought about trying to sneak in a few times but we never actually had the guts. And once in the snow, her windshield wiper broke on the way to the Rock, with our friend Jeff, so we stayed in a hotel, only to find out the next morning that it was just a loose screw. We laughed so hard, but had a great time in the hotel room. The 3 of us devised this incredibly elaborate story about being strung-out club kids in this incredibly sordid, bisexual, drug and sex triangle that we were going to try to use to get on Jerry Springer. There were late night "study sessions" at the Waffle House in Fayetteville playing "No Rain" by Blind Melon over and over on the jukebox. Punk shows at the Station, muddy raves out in the woods, skipping Communications class to sit in her dorm room watching reruns of My So-Called Life. Drunken 4-square games at the Greek Theatre in the middle of the night with all of the stinky crusty punk rock vegan hippy weirdo kids from Little Rock, one of which we both wanted so badly, we stayed up many nights with aching hearts discussing him and looking at his pictures.

Yeah, we had many good times. It seems her life has taken some unusual, but fulfilling and wonderful, turns and it was so great talking to her. It seems we can still make each other laugh just as much as we ever could, and she hasn't lost a single shred of her goofiness. So we're going to have breakfast on Friday morning in Little Rock before I leave my brother's house to drive up to Rogers. I can't wait. I anticipate spitting coffee out my nose and laughing so hard my guts hurt. And maybe just for good measure we'll go to Waffle House and listen to "No Rain."

There will be no white flag above my door

Goodbye Karen. I love you. Austin will never be the same without you. I'll miss you more than you'll ever know.

Love,
ryan

I is officially a student

I went in this morning, signed up for my classes, talked to the financial aid advisor (things are a little scary on that front...), and got my parking permit!

Most importantly, the classes I'm taking are:
Spanish I (since I took 2 different languages while at the University of Arkansas - don't ask! - I could either have taken the second class of one of those, but since it's been 10 years since I took either one, and you have to have 2 semesters of the same language at St. Eds, I just decided to start over with Spanish, since that will probably be infinitely more useful than either French or German, which are what I took at the U of A.)
Gender Studies (to fulfill my Literature requirement. They had many things to choose from that sounded interesting, but most of them were full, including "Southern Writers," which I think I would have liked, but "Gender Studies" will suit me just fine, I feel.)
Theories of Personality (my first Psych elective), and
The American Experience, which is sort of like an American Studies class. blech. Not looking horribly forward to that one, but whatever.

So I only got enough financial aid at this point to cover a little over half of tuition, and that's it. So I panicked a little, but that's based on the amount of money that I'm currently making, which, obviously, I won't be making once I'm in school. So I have several options, one of which is to fill out this form for the school basically telling them that, and the advisor pretty much guaranteed I will get a substantial amount more. Also, she gave me another pretty big loan I can apply for with a co-signor, that was also pretty guaranteed. So all is good. Now I just need to go find another part-time job! Yay for part time, service jobs.

But all in all, it feels a little more real now than it used to, even yesterday. I'm sort of swimming and overwhelmed, but very excited.

Ahh, Christmas.

Everyone should immediately go here. It's one of the funniest god damn things I've ever heard in my life. I was laughing before the music even started.

You need speakers or headphones.

On another note, this girl I work with told me this morning I looked like I got run over by a truck, then asked if I was sick. Geez. I didn't get much sleep last night, but I didn't think I looked that bad.

Only 11 days of work left

Thus, I'm not doing shit, and the postings have been a little heavy on here lately. For the second day in a row, I'm aping Collier by posting the results of the Ok Cupid Death Test.

Apparently, I have 19,221 days left on Earth, until I finally pass in the year 2058, age 81, of a heart attack. Better that than cancer, I suppose. But even more sobering, I have lived 35% of my life already. That's very sobering to think about.

"What is it that you really want?" "Real Estate."

Victor sent this along yesterday, and I wanted to share it. It's a Yahoo! news article about the enduring appeal of A Charlie Brown Christmas. I've seen this show every Christmas for as long as I can remember, and it still gets me a little choked up every time. Money quote:

Schulz, who died in 2000, never doubted the power of his tale of Charlie Brown's quest for the true meaning of Christmas amid the garish trappings of a commercialized holiday. "It comes across in the voice of a child," says Jeannie Schulz, the wife of the cartoonist, whose friends called him Sparky. "Sparky used to say there will always be a market for innocence."

Now that my nephew is around, we've started sharing it with him, and I love sitting and watching him watch it, wide-eyed, taking it all in. Last Christmas he was only 2, so I'm sure he didn't get much, but you gotta start em young. It makes me sad that they just don't seem to make this kind of stuff anymore. Everything now has to be so hip and reflective of pop culture, and have sexual innuendos and hip hop music. It breaks my heart. Another quote:

"A key element in all of Schulz's work is his sense of man's place in the scheme of things in a theological sense as well as a psychological sense," says Thomas Inge, an English and humanities professor at Randolph-Macon College who edited a series of interviews with Schulz released in 2000. "Then there's this slightly cynical attitude that makes everything work."

Maybe a trip home and to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas is just what I need to get back in the spirit this year.

Random Brutal Sex Master!

Ok, so I took the OK Cupid Love Personality quiz or whatever, and these were my results: (thoughts?)


Your results are in! Riotboy6, you are...


The Hornivore
Random Brutal Sex Master (RBSMm)


Don't ever marry, you're The Hornivore. Roaming, sexual, subhuman.

The Hornivores (you) are some of the most screwed up and naughty beings in the Universe. And their numbers are growing, mostly due to skipped or misused contraception. You care not. There's one thing you want, one sole need.

Half manly, half bestial, you act on instinct, and animal charisma smoothes the way. It's unlikely you're driven by much other than your own selfish, orgasmic requirements. Your appearance and personality have evolved for the hunt. Ass beckons, you oblige.

For the record, you can happily bang all personality types, however your match percentages might be low with the kinder, more sensible people of the world, purely because they all wish to avoid you. Good luck to them.

Your exact opposite:
The Slow Dancer
Deliberate Gentle Love Dreamer


"One day, the villagers came with torches to the house. In the smoldering ashes, stray dogs looked for cooked flesh."

AVOID: The Mixed Messenger, The Slow Dancer
CONSIDER: The Last Man on Earth, The Hornivore

And I'm rolling downhill like a snowball headed for Hell

So it's official: I'm an honorary St. Edwards student! Yay! I'm so excited. I have an appointment for next Monday to go in and set up all of my classes. I'm so anxious to see what I get to take, especially the electives. I'm so ready to just dive in and be really busy and be learning things and really feel like I'm working towards something real. I have so many things I want to do, like start writing for the literary journal there, join clubs, like the gay club, and the psychology club, and maybe take cello lessons. I'm bringing my cello back from Arkansas after Christmas, because I decided I want to start playing it again. My mother, of course, is totally off-her-rocker thrilled about it. It's been 10 years since I've even touched it, but I'm going to have her give me a refresher course while I'm home, and since I played for so long before, maybe it will all come back to me pretty quickly. (And after I re-master the cello, I want to learn the banjo!)

So yeah, I put in my notice at work yesterday. It looks like I'll be here until January 6th, but that's still only, like, 12 actual workdays, since there's Christmas and all. It's crazy. It's almost unfathomable, that in 3 weeks I'm going to walk out these doors for the last time, after almost 4 years! I hate to admit it, but in some small way, I think I might miss it. Not the actual job, but when you've done something every single day for 4 years, it sort of becomes a part of you, whether you like it or not. I sort of regret that I've wasted so much time here, but on the other hand, it served its purpose of lighting a serious fire under my ass and making me realize that this is NOT what I want for myself, thus I think I'll push myself that much harder in school. I'm already having fantasies of getting my Master's degree from Harvard. heh. Anyway, I'm going to theoretically work towards that, even if it's not something I would totally choose. But can you imagine me at Harvard? It's pretty funny.

Also, I had the pleasure of catching a sneak of Brokeback Mountain last night with Karen, Kat, Stacy, and her daughter, Annalise (sp?). It was beautiful and perfect and totally drained me. Karen and I stopped at La La's on the way home to have some whiskey and decompress. I loved it.

Where I hope to live my final days

This makes my heart ache. In a good way.

If I knew how to upload pictures onto this stupid thing, I would upload a picture, in the NYT, of the actual table where Collier and I had breakfast every morning we were there. So, when are we moving?

Red wine and sleeping pills help me get back to your arms. Cheap sex and sad films help me get back where I belong.

God, I hate winter. All I want to do is board up the house, crank the gas heater, drink wine, smoke cigarettes, take Xanax, and watch episode after episode after episode of Six Feet Under until I fall into a pharmaceutical-induced coma. (That show is my religion, I swear. I would totally drink the Kool-Aid with the Fishers.)

No, it's not really as bad as all that. But I do hate winter. Everything silent and frozen is the loneliest feeling in the world. I really like having Karen around. It's like we have a snug little home together. It's very comforting.

Has it been 6 months already?

I'm going to bypass the obvious topic of conversation today, and instead bring you this charming Yahoo! article about people being fed up with misbehaving children.

"It's not about the kids," says McCauley, the 44-year-old owner of A Taste of Heaven cafe, who has no children but claims to like them a lot. "It's about the parents who are with them. Are they supervising and guiding them?

"I'm just asking that they are considerate to people around them."


Amen, brother. Happy Tuesday, everybody.

Master of My Universe

A couple of weeks ago I came to the startling realization that since I started running regularly again last August or September, or whenever it was, that I've started losing a lot of weight. About 10 pounds to be exact, which I can't really afford to spare. I knew my appetite had increased: I swear that while I was running I could have eaten a full meal every 3 hours and been okay. I was just so hungry all the time, and although I consistently snacked and ate lunch and big dinners, it was never enough. I simply couldn't keep up and started to feel like my body was going to start eating itself pretty soon unless I spent every waking minute and dollar I had pursuing carbs and protein, like some caveman.

So I decided to stop running, but keep going to the gym, and start doing weights on my lower half, which i didn't do before, because I ran. And in the 2 weeks since I made that decision I've promptly gained back 6 pounds as of yesterday.

I love being right, even if it's a no-brainer.

Gettin' on the Gay

I bought the new Madonna record last weekend, and can't get enough of it! I love it. Of course the lyrics and all are retarded, but I don't listen to Madonna for her lyrics. It's a great dance record: it's one continuous mix, and it's really driving, and some of it's really dark-sounding. It's totally infectious, and there are multiple melodies that I can't ever get out of my head. Music like that is just so viscerally satisfying.

And in other news, in contrast to all those cyborgy, blinking cell-phone earpieces everybody seems to be plugging into these days, I want one of these. Courtesy of this guy.

"This is me, this is what you get!"

So, I had a dream last night that I lived next door to Brenda from Six Feet Under. Not just the actress, but the actual character of Brenda. I was hanging out at her house before work, for some reason, and we were watching The OC. I said I needed to leave to go get some coffee, but she made me some kind of crazy coffee/granola drink so I wouldn't leave. I felt very comfortable there, and just couldn't drag myself to work. I love Brenda. I wish I could be friends with her, and marry David. Although he would prolly drive me nuts.

Am I pathetic enough yet?

Capital One can suck it.

Yesterday when I pulled into my driveway, there was a large, manila envelope sticking out the top of my mailbox. Sure that it was my acceptance letter from St. Edwards, I lept from the car, not even bothering to turn it off, my heart racing, only to discover that it was nothing but the umpteenth credit card offer I'd received in the past 3 weeks from Capital One. For some reason, they've started sending them to me in large, manila envelopes. Way to crush a boy's dreams, Capital One, you rat bastards. You won't give me a credit card anyway; I tried a few weeks ago.

Other than that, life isn't too eventful. Karen has stayed with me the last 2 nights, since her bed now lives at my house, as of last Sunday. She's been very gracious about my cover-stealing, even though my house is downright frigid in the mornings. On Saturday, I got a beautiful new sheet and comforter set from Crate & Barrel, that was something, like, 60% off. A $300 set I got for $127. I was thrilled. Even though they've been washed, they're still a bit scratchy and stiff, but I'm sure that will wear off soon enough.

I had sort of a date/non-date on Sunday. It was okay; certainly no sparks, but that's all right. On the drive home I realized that, even though I really want to be, I'm just not in a dating place yet. And with school starting and all that, who wants to be attached? Not me. Last night at Stacy Schoolfield's house, she suddenly got very excited remembering 3 different guys she knew of that she wanted to hook me up with. I had to graciously decline, but it was very sweet of her to think of me. But the date/non-date guy belongs to an all-gay book club that he invited me to join, which might be fun. Their next meeting is on the 12th of December, and the reading assignment is Other Voices, Other Rooms by Capote. I've actually started this book twice, and never got very far, but I started it again yesterday, and it's started hooking me in this time. I had to set aside Tropic of Cancer to start it, but that's okay, because I'm almost 100 pages into it, and still have no idea what's going on. Has anyone else out there read it? If so, is it worth sludging through? Methinks not, but I could be wrong. And the reading assignment for January is A Million Little Pieces, by James Frey, which I've already read, so maybe if I enjoy myself at this month's meeting, I'll attend next month's as well. I didn't care much for Pieces, but I'd be very curious to hear what a big group of homos all think of it.

Thanksgiving, mm-hmm.

So yesterday was Turkey Day, and it was great. Collier graciously hosted at her place. It was her, me, Karen, Collier's mom, then eventually Ann and Dylan, then for an after-dinner treat, Nisha, with amazing chocolate chip cookies that tasted like a stick of butter with chocolate chips stuck in it. We surmised yesterday that we probably all ate about 2 sticks of butter each. Which was fine by all of us. Butter is one of the greatest things on Earth. After dinner we all just got fat and lazy; we watched part of Survivor, then Will and Grace, then some awful special on Animal Planet about cats that do funny things. Incredibly, it was an hour-long special, but was pretty much the apex of mental stimulation of which we were capable at that point. At that point we had mulled cider with whiskey. It should have been cold outside, but it wasn't. So we pretended it was, and that made the cider more special. Another thing that made this year very special was the fact that Collier, graciously again, allowed me to usurp her job as the reacher-in-the-turkey-ass and puller-out-of-everything-inside. I'd never done this before, and was hesitant (I don't know why; I have plenty of experience with sticking things up assholes), but was actually quite disappointed to find that it had already been cleaned out. Aside from the actual act of fisting the turkey, there was no joy to be had in ripping its guts out. Oh well. Maybe next year.

I also realized on Wednesday night why it's dangerous for someone like me to have cable. I basically use it for companionship, and I guess that can get dangerous, as evidenced by my newfound addiction to America's Next Top Model. It's just as vapid as anything, but for some reason, a collection of nothing but girls, with no men involved, takes the bitchiness and backstabbing and petty complaining that much more compelling. It is pretty fascinating how a bunch of beautiful bitches totally turn on one another and form their little "alliances," and how hurt they all are when any of them is "betrayed," which means Jayla actually had a conversaton with Bre, when Jayla is supposed to be on Kim's side, or whatever. Incidentally, Kim got eliminated last week, when it was down to her and Bre, which I actually found pretty shocking. Bre is such a bitch, and frankly, she seems very unstable and possibly dangerous. Furthermore, she's not that pretty. Another Naomi Campbell in the making. And I only say that because they're both black. ha ha. And INSANE!

Anyway, I'm at work today, unfortunately. My supervisor just bought everybody chips and queso from Taco Cabana at 9:30 in the morning. Weird. I think he might be providing lunch, too, but I'm not sure. But I'll be out of here at 3:30. I have a date/non-date on Sunday night, which I'm actually really looking forward to, which means I think I want it to be a date. We'll see.

and even I'm gettin' tired of useless desires

So, yeah, I guess it's been awhile. Just symptomatic of my mental state the last few weeks, I guess. I've just felt very isolated and disconnected in a lot of ways. Very in my own head, slightly hermetic. It's not necessarily a bad thing. But I'm coming back around, so you better watch out!

This last week has been filled with a lot of anticipation, not the least of which is waiting to hear back from St. Edwards regarding my application. I'm sure I'll have no problem getting in, but after my debacle with UT, I'm just worried. But I'm very excited about the prospects. I can't even begin to imagine how wonderfully amazing and liberating it's going to be the morning that I get to walk into work and put in my notice. Ah! It makes beam from ear to ear just thinking about it.

But other than that, I haven't really been up to much, honestly. Doing a lot of reading, thinking. I feel positive about most things overall, I just feel like I'm killing a lot of idle time right now, waiting for something to happen, instead of going out there and really making it happen. But in small ways, I'm making things happen. That's all I need right now: small gestures.

I'll try to post more regularly again on this thing, but as I said before, I don't even know who reads this. Should I even bother? But as I also said, I'm doing it mostly just for me, so I guess I should, even though I feel weird writing about much of what is actually on my mind these days. Another dilemma: how much am I comfortable revealing? Not very much, right now. That's why I've been so silent. But maybe forcing myself to post about things that don't necessarily plunge my psychic depths will be good for me. I spend too much time down there these days!

i'm either so sick in the head i need to be bled dry to quit, or i just really used to love him. i sure hope that's it.

KB and I had dinner and then drinks together last night and just had a giant bitch-fest, and it felt wonderful. There was no judgement, no holding back, really. We just let it all out. Not about each other, but about everything else that's been bothering, or irritating, or depressing, either one of us. Things maybe we're a little ashamed to actually be feeling, but do anyway. Jealousies, resentments, sadnesses. It's good to have friends like that, where you can just totally let it go and say whatever you want, and even if they don't feel the exact same way (but it's always better if they do), know that they won't hold it against you, or judge you for it, or think that you're a terrible, selfish, bitter, wounded person. We all have these thoughts; just no one ever wants to admit it. I hope that no matter whatever happens in my life, or how happy, or fulfilled, or whatever, I might ever become, that I never lose my fatalism. I hope I always keep that edge of cynical skepticism. For better or for worse, I think that's partially what defines me and my personality. Without it, I have no idea who I would be. Fatalism. Yeah, it's good.

At Starbucks this morning the new counter-guy was clearly flirting with me. Too bad he had a goatee and wasn't that cute. It still made my day. I got to smile and flirt back and be really friendly at 6:30 in the morning.