Chocolate and Hazelnut

why are european candies and sweets so much better than american ones? i just ate half a box of Viennese chocolate-covered hazelnut filled wafer cookies. it was like lil' debbie nutty bars on continental steroids. the pieces were nice and small, so you didn't feel that bad about it, and four pieces (there are ten to a box) only have 12 grams of sugar. do you know how good that is? do you know how great that is for a diabetic? and they were light, and not too sweet tasting, and i think hazelnut and chocolate is a flavor combination i would be willing to add to sex.

so here i am holding down the harcourt fort at a quarter til four, monday afternoon. i'm pretty tired, but that's all right. i have yoga tonight. i have some work i should get started on now. my plants are doing great. very lovely. still don't think i'm gonna water them. they can make it another few days. poor babies... ah, they're fine, clearly. its nice having the herbs as a top growth to the lilies, because they can serve as a water gauge. when they start to look a little piqued, i water. good system. kudos to josh.

in other news... the twitchy aquarian refuses to settle down, but becomes slightly more overtly sexual. fair enough... whatever... the apostle is clearly ticked off with me. i would be ticked off with someone if they were treating me the way i treat him. but i'm trying to maintain a safe distance. because of a very universal bit of human programming:

Inner voice #1: Hey look! We have some power! What should we do with it?

Inner voice #2: Um... abuse it?

Inner voice #1: Fair enough.

i will remain a good person. because that is what i want to be: a good person. i want it inscribed on my tombstone. "he tried his best to be a pretty good person, and for the most part, he succeeded." remember that in case i don't make it home today.

anyway, its odd to be desired by someone. i'm usually the one doing the desiring (and how!) but not today. now i am the object of affection. and i don't like it. objects don't have a lot of agency. maybe that's why its unfair to "objectify" people. hmm... i think i'm getting somewhere... anyway, yeah. its odd. i don't like it when people are interested in me. it makes me think they've seen through my shields (paltry as they are...) or that my shields aren't aligned properly. add a dash of bitterness and a heaping cup of aloofness... stir well.

grr... now i have to run all the way out to get my resume so i can apply for a position with the company. and get more money. that's all that's motivating me. money. i actually like where i sit, so do my plants, i like my neighbors, and the work is fine. and the work won't change. i'll just get more money and benefits for doing it. but i still don't want to move. screw cubicles, i want window frontage.

kay. i am going to start on this work now. (aargh...) and fiddle, get my resume, etc... i'll talk to you all later.

Perhaps...

just perhaps, there is a problem inherent in insulting your potential dating pool. perhaps, i should not use my "personal journal" function on the "out in america" network to berate all the other little queers out there. even if i'm really frustrated. and horny. and lonely.

perhaps i should try to "play nice..."

or perhaps i could screw it all and continue insulting their mothers... because that is clearly the mature thing to do.

people are not tools, and i should not use them as such, regardless of how lonely and irritated i am. i will not pull the apostle into the bathroom here at work and viciously make out with him for ten minutes. that, would not be all right. i hate harcourt, but there are more productive ways to express it. besides, i think there are cameras in the bathrooms. not that i mind that in particular... ah well.

is there something wrong with associating sexuality with viciousness? is this falling under the rubric of "using sex as a weapon"? because we all know the rule about that one.

"I will NOT use sex as a weapon."

i never get to have any fun...

i should do my work now. apparently, that's what they pay me for.

Bare Jr. Still Loves You!

so i finally, FINALLY (drumroll please)

duhduhduhduhduhduhduhduhduh...

i finally got my forking bobby bare jr. cd! AAAAH!!!

featuring such greats as "valentine," and "your adorable beast"!

i am so happy i think i could fend off an earth-shattering meteor with the force of my manic glee. actually, i've gotten a little less ecstatic as the day has gone on, but that's to be expected, what with hating my job and all. speaking of which, after this post, i need to go and apply for a promotion so they can pay me more money and give me benefits for doing the exact same job.

and i need to write a letter of introduction to architecture schools in the NYC area.

and my plants are back on the windowsill where they belong, and no one has said anything, and they look so much happier there... and all the lilies are sprouting. too early, but such potential for prettiness...

i've been feeling better recently, but i'm not sure why. and i've been drinking so much caffeine that i had trouble falling asleep last night even after making my body all tired and stuff at the gym. but it was that wierd pregnant sort of hyperactivity, where you're lying still, but your mind is just humming. i should have written something, but i didn't want to deal with all the shit that would have stirred up. i don't know. but whoa. whacko! i'm flying right now!

i watched "Garden State" last weekend. you know i really must love a movie if i go to the extent of properly capitalizing its title. it was so so so so great... its been a while since i saw a movie that i felt really spoke to me. well, here it is. i loved it, and the soundtrack is amazing, and i've been listening to it non-stop, like a diver will desperately clutch at that tank of air deep below the surface. its good. its real good. i'm a little in love with it.

on that note, zach is in love with it also, and it's always such an odd experience when we both really love something, because we really love it for completely different but valid reasons. so i don't know. god he's so funny... anywhoo...

something is clearly wrong with me. i'm sitting here at work, and i don't feel like death. this is like, practically unprecedented. but i love it! ha!

what else is there...

ah yes... the apostle and his necessary female keeper (because all gay males must have their female cohort) have been appearing in my path of travel more recently, and so i find myself talking to them both. it is nice. entertaining even. in that it is SO much fun to entertain others, and win them over to my side before they even realize that such a war is being waged... she is a bit kookier than he. she is a gemini, he is a virgo (eerie, i know) and he is a much better virgo than me. he seems quiet and retiring. he needs to show some teeth. if he has them.

but every time i talk to him, the thought keeps popping up in my head, "you are not cute." and despite this, i am terrified of talking to him more, because what if i were to start liking him as a person? he could bring me down from the inside, simply by being a decent, moderately funny and realistic person. if he is those things, i might find myself considering him a friend. and i can't be friends with males, because then i decide we must be lovers, and i've decided that its a BAD IDEA to go there with this young man...

i'm telling everyone to recite this mantra to me every now and then. you do it too.

"No Matter How Lonely You Are, a Bad Idea is Still a Bad Idea."

help me out with this folks. lets keep me just barely on this side of the good/bad person divide.

kay. laters.

Full to Bursting.

ever wonder what it is about human nature that makes what we have not enough? and i'm sure the early indoctrination into a capitalist society where everything has a price isn't a help... but really, even those who aren't bitten by the "gimme-gimme-gimme" bug have the same urge. it runs along the lines of:

that piece of chocolate cake was really good. now i'm nice and full and have the delicate flavor of espresso-laced cocoa on my tongue. (wait for it...) hmm. i think i'll have another half piece, just a little more. (wait...) oh, half pieces are so messy, i'll just have a whole nother piece. (and the grand crescendo...) god i'm full, but i want more. that was good, but more would be better. (we all see it coming...) i think i'll eat the whole goddamned thing! i need it all inside me! this very instant! i need to be this chocolate cake's new home! (picture of picking up cake, flipping open your jaws, cramming cake in, snarfling noises, etc...)

i know part of it is not being happy. when you aren't happy, you aren't content. spiritually, you aren't "full." well, when spiritual fullness is not an option, we most often seek other kinds of fullness, usually physical (cuz they're easy) and usually bad. that chocolate cake, for instance, or the weed you smoked last weekend. wasn't a whole eigth a bit excessive? and how about those three exhausted men tangled up in your bedsheets this morning... granted, it was a long-standing fantasy, but really now... one of them dislocated their arm trying to get you off that last time.

so we look to fill ourselves up with cake (and men...) but the real problem is never really solved. and once is never enough. hence my alcohol addiction. (which though i drank a bit last weekend, is still under control.) my dabbling in marijuana, and my incessant trawling of the e-dating switchboards. i just don't know anymore. i don't know where the fullness is supposed to come from. the obsessive exercising helps (speaking of which, i should get on home and engage in just that...) but it isn't a real solution. it is management.

i am tired of management.

i am tired of running in order to stand still. and stand still here in texas, no less.

i need to make some freaking phone calls tonight.

its time to find a place to live in jersey.

and its time to get the hell out of dodge.

Sick Obssessions

i have a lot of 'em. hell, i could write a lengthy list and have it published as a coffee table book. what the hell is a coffee table book anyway? like, a book for display? who thought of that ass-stupid idea? what the fuck? books are for reading. words. strung together to form sentences. that together make up paragraphs. all for the purpose of conveying ideas and stories... coffee table books... i read coffee table books, and you know what, they're not particularly well-written. because no one expects you to read them. grr...

so even though i feel emotionally wrecked, and up for the stimulation inherent in skinning an orange, i continue to check my online sites. i log in, i search for members, i look at head shots, i read profiles, etc. at work, on occassion; not a brilliant practice but hey, i have nothing better to do while i'm here. i do, but i have plenty of time. actually, there's a chingon of work waiting now that i'm back from my coffee break. please hold...

back. i have work, but its easy, so i'll deal with it after this post, the point of which i've completely forgotten. hell, i don't need one... i write the words, you read 'em. its as simple as that, really. fuck-all. so yeah, um melissa just shared with me a list of exchanges taken word for word from the pads of court stenographers. so for officebiatch and speechie, you little less-than-paralegals-you, here's one to brighten your day:

Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
A: Did you actually pass the bar exam?

moving on... right, sick obssessions. trawling the sites... i do that. i continue to do that. even though the thought of actually going so far as to meet someone from the sites stirs panic deep in my heart-chamber. but i'm still lonely, and its still the easiest way, in that it doesn't require the actual effort of figuring out where to go, screwing up the courage to go there, going, and then the anguish of awkwardly standing in a corner and maybe making small talk with some ugly little dwarf who has "taken a shine to me," as they say. in the eighteen hundreds.

i rarely run across anyone up to my impossibly high standards, my standards being what they are (impossibly high). the only people who seem to mail me are really really young people (i firmly believe that young people are only here to serve as a viable food source if the sun should burn out and mass famine ensues) and twitchy aquarians. the aquarian and i have been mailing. the young people, i simply don't respond to. not kind, but kinder i'm sure than giving them some horribly transparent lie about why i won't talk to them. (BECAUSE I DON'T LIKE YOU!!!)

i don't know what i'm doing here. i'm tired of being lonely. and really, i'm just looking for someone warm and witty, funny, intelligent, attractive, sensual, good, kind, and at least half as amazing as me.

apparently thats a lot to ask for.

Current Addiction

go to mtv.com. just go. under the music menu, go to music videos. search for janet jackson. watch her "all nite(don't stop)" video.

its hot.

really hot.

i am addicted beyond all control. it is my morning cup of coffee. i need it like i need diet coke.

go ahead, try it just this once...

No. Actually, I'm Not Done Yet.

when i am done ranting and raving about the UNGODLY amount/mass of frustration that's lodged in my chest, choking me, impeding my breathing, and making me hurt, when i am GOOD and DONE, i will tell you. i'll hit you up. the pager will beep. your cell phone will ring its special $2.99 "candyshop" ringtone. your computer will tell you "you've got mail." etc.

every time i want to continue my project, i suddenly am thrust into the middle of a big, big, big ass problem. this problem is so ass big, you would need an acre of panties to cover it.

the problem: i am so tired of picking up after other sloppy people. i am so sick of finding mistakes that other people make and politely reminding them, "hey, um, hey... that's not how you spell 'misogyny'." (of course, nothing i work on here is interesting enough to involve the word misogyny. this is harcourt, texas, where men are men, women are women, and everyone is STONE DUMB AND ASS UGLY!!!)

but yes. i am not perfect, i make my own mistakes. i'm trying to figure out my own life. and when i can't even manage to do that because i'm too busy killing myself at a job where people can make all the mistakes they want because "we'll send it to the proofing pool after you're done," well, its a little frustrating.

its really, motherfucking, frustrating.

i'm frustrated.

i want to sleep for a week. the only time i'm happy is from fifteen minutes before i go to the gym or yoga studio until i go to bed four hours later. daily physical activity is most of what's keeping me tethered.

i'm sure that all this too shall pass.

i want to go home.

What You Say/What I Hear

my life is funny. i'm starting to have selective hearing. very selective hearing. we're talking beyond not hearing things that people are saying, or "tuning things out," as some people would put it. of course i "tune some things out..." i want to at least be able to present the semblence of sanity... if i had to listen to all the idiotic drivel that people out there say... in fact, its a sign that i'm tired and my defenses are wearing thin when i find myself overhearing things more often. the more inane office chatter that filters into my actual functioning (yes it functions!) brain, the worse off i become. its a vicious cycle.

what i'm talking about is that i'm getting better at decoding "office-ese," or whatever you want to call it. its actually all very simple. let me give you the basics:

whenever anyone slightly above in the local hierarchy mentions your name and asks if you "have a second," it roughly translates into:

would you mind stepping over to my desk and leaning over it so i can ream your ass some more? (and not in the fun way...)

this also applies to when your email icon starts blinking that you have a new message.

you know, i might be crazy, but i'm beginning to think that i don't like it here...

i am afraid.

i am afraid now. i am frightened. if there is another complaint, a noise complaint from our area, melissa and lauren and me, there will be serious consequences. i believe that means that someone will be fired. i believe that someone will be me. no one else seems to have these problems working here. none of us like our new digs, but no one seems to have my problems. of course. because they're my problems, mine by definition. no one else can have them. i couldn't give them away if i tried.

i am frightened and confused. no one here seems to like us. and i keep doing things to make sure they don't like us. i brough in my plants, and i knew that would irritate people. but i did it anyway, because i wanted to throw a wrench into the harcourt gears. well, i'm too weak right now to stand behind my wrenches, and the gears ate that baby all up. there's no wrench left. there's me and a bunch of plants, and a lot of noise complaints that center around me, even though everyone is too nice to say so.

someone threw a candy wrapper in one of my plants' pots. i picked it out and put up a sign. "hello! though we are full of dirt, and might smell of earth, we are living and breathing beings, just like yourself. with this in mind, please refrain from throwing trash in us. we don't appreciate it. thank you." i can only imagine this will get me into more trouble. i don't know whether to take the plants home or leave them here... i wanted them here. they make me happy. but i suppose i should find ways to be happy that don't involve the discomfort of others.

so i'm here, and i'm afraid. because i'd rather not be fired, and this situation is all so mucky, and i hate it all. why can't we all just sit down and hammer this out? even if we didn't immediately come to an agreement, at least we would begin to be actual people to each other rather than, "that noisy fag!" or "that sciency bitch!" i want there to be an effort to move this all to a peaceful resolution, but there isn't one, and i can't make there be one.

can't we all just get along? its a stupid, cliched line, but it fits me. i want to make things better. i want to make sick things whole. and i'm in a situation that has no place for that kind of energy. see, that's the thing, all of this, rationally speaking is just a little hiccup in interpersonal relations, and if i am quieter, all problems will go away. and theoretically, this does not mean that i am surrendering, or losing, or anything of the sort. but it feels like i am. and it all feels so huge, because its tapping some very deep shit in me. the mother-lode shit. the shit thats all about "how do i function, what do i want out of life, what drives me every second of every day, what am i bringing to every situation i enter into?" that shit. and that shit, is not shit you want to play around with. its hard to deal with that shit. and if you try and speak coolly and logically to that shit, it will throw a spear through your eye, because this shit is not about the cool and the logical. its about the survival of you and the core of your being. this shit is angry, and it will not hesitate to use force.

as mom brought up last night, (we talked about this, of course), this would probably all be a lot easier to deal with if i were in a position in life where it felt like something was going right. but i'm not so much. there isn't a lot of stability right now, or nurturing, or anything of that nature. i have a minimal root system, and therefore feel able to throw up one, maybe two branches at a time, but man do those branches creak in the wind. and they're creaking right now, lemme tell you.

but as i sit here and bitch, and detail my poor-mes, i'm avoiding some work that would help me get out of here. so i bid you adieu, and i'm off to improve my situation.

Update

i hate it here.

someone, SOMEONE, decided that the air filtration system was sucking up the smell of soil, humus, compost, and leaves, and cycling it through the building. where were those smells being sucked up from?

right.

my little garden, which actually smells quite lovely, bearing mint and lemon balm as it does.

so tim, (local busybody, you remember him, right?) and a janitorial looking person were skulking about the area, the custodial employee bearing an aerosol can of "synthetic-smell-gud-crap", both beginning to hover about the garden.

josh: is there a problem with the plants?

guys: um, someone was complaining about a smell, and we think it might becoming from here and getting sucked up by the vents by the window. c'mere and smell this.

josh: (proceeds to wedge his nose in the crack between the pot and the attached saucer, and yes, it does smell like soil and a bit of compost, but perhaps because I'M PRACTICALLY SWIMMING IN THE DRAINAGE FROM THE POT, YOU IMBECILES!) yes, it doesn't smell lovely.

guys: yeah, maybe we can move them over here (gesturing to a file cabinet that gets negative sunlight.)

melissa and lauren: or over here! (gesturing to a file cabinet with an agreeable amount of light.)

guys: hummina hummina hummina sure!

they leave, the sad janitor spraying some aerosol as they vacate the premises.

i am outraged and embittered. no, the soil doesn't smell great, but considering you have to be practically planted in the pot with the lily bulbs to notice it, either someone here has an amazingly sensitive palatte and should be tasting wine in northern california and bringing in a six figure salary doing it, or someone here is just an irritable old fool with an enlarged sense of personal dominion and what i'm sure must be a supremely unfulfilling home-life.

i'm pissed.

my plants smell lovely, the soil smell IS NOT wafting through the office like mustard gas, and harcourt is once again trying to rain on my little, tiny, symbolic parade. in the interest of a harmonious workplace, my plants will have to be taken home, and i will lose another battle in the war to reform corporate america.

and note how the culprit, the crotchety little kill-joy, will still not approach me and try to hammer out a mutually satisfactory solution. no. tim and some other poor sap are made to do the dirty work for them.

and i am once again made to feel like an idiot for even trying to make my office life a little happier.

maybe i should shit in a pot and just leave it on the windowsill, thereby at least giving them something REALISTIC to complain about...

for their part, the plants seem to love it here. and by gorry, they're getting back on the window. that is prime real estate right there, and they deserve it. i am not through yet. this is only a minor setback. i am not through yet...

How In The Hell...

really though... how in the hell did a saint (not a group known for being particularly carnal or eros-driven) get their birthday (or "saint's day") done up as a holiday celebrating conjugal relations? this puzzles me, and no-one seems to have a good answer. so if YOU have the answer, please share it with me.

so Valentine's Day...

i've never liked this holiday. you should always treat the important people in your life with love, affection, compassion, and all the things this holiday purportedly celebrates. this day should only be the continuance of the reverence with which you treat those who love you and share their lives with you.

one day ain't gonna cut it if you been bein' a prick!

i also don't like the way the day normalizes (beyond normal) coupledom, and suddenly every well-adjusted, happy single person (well, i'm pretty happy at least...) has to wake up and say, "damn, what the fuck is wrong with me? why am i failing at this, the most basic of all of life's areas? pass the porn and empty carbohydrates/refined sugar." of course, those things usually just make you feel worse...

i have always harbored dreams of being the roving anti-valentine. if i am ever involved with someone during the dreaded day, i would like to break up with them for the duration of the day. in fact, perhaps we will go out to a romantic restaurant, dressed nicely, and stage a loud and horrible public breakup, just for show. just to leave all those other happy couples a little less happy. i would speed around on my anti-valentine moped/vespa and pop people's balloons, pluck the petals from their flowers, smear dookie on their little heart-holding teddy-bears, and leave rotting corpses on doorsteps, right next to the morning paper.

all that being said...

i am so ridiculously happy today! i feel fine fine fine, fine like wine, because, after all my grousing and grumping last week, my coworkers decided the only answer would be to hold down my tongue with a stick and shove valentine's day down my throat like a great big multi-vitamin. i came in today to find my computer monitor arrayed and bedecked with pink hearts and red-and-white heart ribbons. i have cards, and rugrats lolli-pops, and white chocolate nuggets with cookie crunchies in them, and so many beautiful expressions of love, and granted they did it partially in jest, to "serve me right" for my anti-valentine war-mongering, but it came from love, and caring enough about me to cheer my up, even if i want to be miserable.

so once again, somehow, i have become the center of a circle of people who love me, and care about me, and i never know how these things happen, and they all laughed as i sputtered and made little squealy noises, and joked that it was the only time ever that they had known me to be speechless. and i was. because i can only respond to these things like a shocked child, amazed that someone would find me special enough to merit that kind of consideration...

and so, onto the matters at hand...

to those who read this blog (you KNOW who you are...) there are sparkly things aplenty on their way to you. i am tardy, as always, but rest assured you are NOT forgotten, and joys and treasures are finding their way to you.

as for right here and right now...

Speechie, i love you so much, and can only imagine my later years if they involve living with you in a little old house, grousing about the weather and checking out the twenty-first century hotties on mtv2k50. i think of you every day, and then smile and laugh.

Paco, light of my life, who is so kind to me, even when i don't deserve it... my dear, i love you to pieces, and have reserved a neighboring house for you in our old age, so you can always be right next door, but don't have to live with me when i'm cheesing you off. because i know that happens.

Chris, you are the indomitable partner in crime. in the dictionary, under the word "synchronicity," our pictures appear, right by each other. i love you so much, and am so glad that in the desert of texas, i can always fill my cup at your fountain.

Kas, you are the queen of the texas regime. you are royalty, no matter how much we all gripe and groan about it, and promise not to say it to your face (it'll only make it worse!) but the truth must be said. i love you dearly, and am blessed to have you in my life.

to all who i love, i hope you know who you are; mother, father, sister, brother, all my friends, anyone to whom i've ever said a kind word, or who has said a kind word to me, i love you all so much, and without you, i would be nothing. i am only such stuff as what you give me, and your love is what makes me whole. i cannot be without you, and i hope i enrich your lives as much as you enrich mine, because i am the wealthiest and most blessed person because of you all.

all right. enough. i must stop with the sappiness. i'd rather not cry at work AGAIN. and we're getting to that point a little bit... god i'm so easy...

in other news...

the Garden of Spite is up and running. (the windows are so sunny here! they're going to love it! and i mixed up such a great potting soil for them! ooh!) and bringing great joy to me and my cohorts already.

i am a financial wizard after only two months of research. (at least, i think i am)

and i shall leave you with the everliving words of bobby bare jr. i think you'll enjoy them.

"
Valentine,
I killed my Valentine,
And I laughed, until I cried,
For my Valen-
tine.

Valentine,
I killed my Valentine,
And I'll proudly do the time,
For my Valen-
tine.
"

keep on truckin'.

Holy God...

oh there is nothing holy about this feeling inside me right now. today i have officially eaten an ASS-LOAD of cookies. coworker melissa brought two boxes of girl scout "samoas" (now called caramel delites, so as not to offend brown skinned island dwellers) to work today. most of those two boxes, are in me right now. don't laugh. its not funny. i am so full of cookie, i think i will vomit. the next time i shit, i will shit dough. and the saddest part is, now that i'm sitting here after lunch, i sort of want another one. i think i have that one last one, i will explode, and litter the cubes around me with blood and bone fragments, and little peices of coconut daubed with caramel.

i am in pain. this much is clear. today is looking to be a lovely friday, in that i don't have a lot of work, and if i get more, i may just ignore it until monday. i deserve an easy day. i woke up tuesday morning and said, "mom, its like, wednesday, or thursday, right?" no. tuesday. this week, has been the longest, most ass-lancing span of time EVER. but i am all set to go home and do some gardening, so that on monday morning, i can bring in The Garden of Spite.

The Garden of Spite

i have long wanted to bring some green growing things into work, with which to brighten my space, bring life to my days, practice my nurturing skills, irritate my co-workers (not the ones on my side, the evil ones), and remind myself that, no matter how deep in a test from hell i am, there is life and goodness about me.

well, i now have all the necessary things with which to make this dream a reality. pots, check. crockery for drainage, check. soil, check. blood and bone meal, check. organic compost, check. baby, i've got it all. and following is a list of the plants i will be gracing my (yes, its mine, because i claim it, and if harcourt wants it back, they will have to fight me for it...) windowsill:

orange dwarf lilies
spotted onion plant
hoya
rue
spearmint
lemon balm
rosemary

rosemary is simply a boost for mental powers. memory retention and things like that. mints (of which balms are a cousin) represent virtue and sentiment. hoya means sculpture (i have no clue what that means...) and the onion, i think is just an onion. now is where it gets good. if you remember your hamlet, rue is representative of remembrance and regret in particular. ophelia gave it to claudius before she did the drinky drinky dive. lilies are generally indicative of majesty, power, pride, etc; orange lilies, however, are also indicative of hatred and spite.

so basically, taken all together, my garden is sending harcourt a very definite message: i am a virtuous soul with a good memory, and you will rue the day you caused me to feel such hatred and spite towards you all.

i have way, way, WAY too much time on my hands. but the plants should be pretty, so i'm looking forwards to it.

Random Thought...

i'm reading a story (on a test for fifth graders) about an older sister who is like me in every respect, right down to having an odd sense of humor that annoys her younger siblings.

this led me to think about zach, and how he always gets so mad at me when i laugh about, well, anything really. and the first thought i had after that was:

"Gee, I really want to punch him in the face."

i am still laughing a little bit about that one. i swear upon all that is holy, i have no control over my mind or the places it goes...

My Own Time

today is thursday, and therefore i am to go to my father's house for an evening of bad-for-me dinner and likewise bad-for-me tv viewing. yes, yes, i am addicted to the apprentice a little bit. i could break the addiction easily, but as long as i keep spending thursday evenings with dad and audrey, that won't be happening. we also get to watch will and grace, which makes me pretty happy. "hey, look, gay people do exist! my former life didn't completely end when i graduated from college!"

yes, karen singing "jesus loves me" was one of the oddest, most wonderful things i've seen recently. that show in general just really really kills me. and somehow, i get the feeling that dad, audrey, and zach all just put up with it while i watch it and crack up. i hate them all.

i went to the nursery around the corner yesterday after work. (plant nursery; my baby stealing plans are currently on hold...) they don't seem to like me there. granted, i was the only customer that evening, but i end up pushing around a cart and examining packages very closely, hopping about, violently changing direction, talking to myself, etc. i can't help it. there's so much there to sort through... what sort of potting soil do i want? do we still have organic compost at home? do i need sand or vermiculite, and which one would improve the drainage of the soil? they don't seem to carry vermiculite, is perlite close enough? the books say lilies like bone meal, but they also sell bone-and-blood meal. both seem to be good for bulbs. how are they categorically different? which one should i get?

so they asked me if i was finding everything all right like, seven times over, and yes, i was. they had moved the plastic pots i wanted to a different wall, but i found them anyway. i chose bone-and-blood meal, because hey, if one is good, two must be better, right? by the way, i check the ingredients to see what bone-and-blood meal is made of. bone meal and blood meal. i suppose i don't really want to know after all, if that's all they're willing to tell people... and i still need another pot for another plant. aargh... life is rough.

so that was my first excursion yesterday. my second was to a nearby yoga studio. i think i will be going there on a weekly basis. it kicked my ass. at times, the only sounds in the room were all of our breathing, and the little "plips" as beads of my sweat rolled over my face and plinked onto the mat below me. it was good, and hard, my thighs still hurt, and my upper body has been reminded of its existence. yahoo for yoga.

recently, i've been a little irritable. irritable in general, as that is my normal ground state anyway, but recently, i'm talking irritated about something in particular. a large part of it seems to be stemming from time. peoples is making demands on my time. i spend my days at a job i hate. i go to the gym because its good for me, i'm addicted to it, and it feels like the only time i get to spend on myself, by myself, during the day. when i'm at home, even if things are pleasant, there are parents to deal with, and brother in particular. there are always little errands to run, letters to write, things to research online, etc.

peoples be makin' demands on my time.

i don't want to go to dad's house. i don't want to sit and talk with mom about my life and how its going. i don't want to have my brother be constantly low-grade pissed at me because i'm not spending enough time with him. i don't want alla this nonsense.

i think i want some motherfucking time to myself.

i want a life of my own (an impossibility when you're living with your family, i know). i want some time and space to call my own. i don't want to be so constantly engaged with people. i want to find enough minutes strung together to get my hands dirty in some soil and plant green growing things. i want some time to sit and write for real, not snatches of bitching up here on my blog. i want some time to go to the bank and try and get my finances in order. i want enought time to stop and think about whether or not i actually want a haircut, and then to go get one if i decide i want it.

i need a little bit more freedom than is being provided me right now. and i need to figure out a way to make it happen. its time for me to claim some of my freedom. because apparently, the world ain't gonna hand it to me on a silver platter. like everything else in life, you have to fight for it. well hell's bells. i suppose i'm gonna have to start fighting.

A Better Frame of Mind

feeling much better now. probably because i've simply stopped thinking about all those things that were irking me earlier today. sometimes the solution is so simple, i'm amazed i didn't think of it before. better living through willfull ignorance. hey, if its free, sign me up.

so i've never really explained my new little work area. i mean, i've explained what it is physically like, but what of the people who inhabit my little corner of town? go ahead and sing with me...

"
Oh these are the people in my neighborhood,
In my neighborhood,
In my neigh - bor - hood,
These are the people in my neighborhood,
The people that you meet,
When you're walking down the street,
They're the people that you meet,
Each,
Day!
"

i enter my wing of the building, climb the stairs, and walk through a cubicle hallway to get to my desk near the windows. on the way, i pass by the love of my life. he occupies the second cube on the right as i walk towards my desk. he is tall and thinand asian with a pierced ear. his cube is covered with pictures of his children (i think they're his children). laughing, smiling children who you KNOW would be the bomb-diggity to play with. two of them, a male and a female. there are even those cute early-saturday-morning pics, with my object of affection bleary eyed and glasses-less in a chair at the kitchen table, with both kids either in his lap, or working on getting there. he is clearly straight and married and so unattainable, but seeing him and knowing he exists makes me oh so happy... it brightens my day to be reminded that he exists.

so after i make it down the rest of that little cube-hall (the last few cubes are empty mind you, while three of us are sharing one length of desk right around the corner...) i get to our little section of the hallway. i slump low in my chair. i meld with the computer (its name is still Pig). to my right is lauren, a married aries mother of two. she is a lovely mix of demure and professional exterior covering a no-nonsense, irritable, at times derisive little spitfire. i love it. i envy her kids; i believe they have an excellent mother, and their father is a virgo, so clearly he must be great as well. to my left is melissa. she lives with her boyfriend kenneth, and is now also taking care of her father, who left his second wife out in the country and moved in with them. she is delightfully skewed, and a pleasure to have on my team.

as i putter away at Pig, there often rears above the cube walls about us an employee worth describing. he is a massive hispanic man, with a nose like a perfectly drawn triangle that hovers atop his six and a half foot tall bulk. he is built like a mountain. a slightly obese mountain. he wears a backbrace (black and blue, laced with white) that barely encircles his girth. his solid looking stomach is thrust up and out by this orthopedic device. you feel as if he were to brush against you, you would be shot through a few cubicle walls before coming to a rest in a pile of fluttering memos. from my vantage point, he makes his way about our area like some errant godzilla, quietly rearing above the cube wall in front of me, and just as silently disappearing below it. needless to say, he is a soft spoken, polite individual. he is also godzilla. this is life.

rounding out our area is ted. ted is irritating. ted means well, but teds nose has a talent at smelling out where he is least needed and wanted, and dragging the rest of his ridiculous self after it. ted is the man who explained to me the intricacies of using the black and white printer for black and white documents, and the color one for color printouts only. because clearly i'm an IDIOT!!! ted has made himself our self-appointed guardian. again, sweet, but misguided. he jokes with us (he seems to get the most enjoyment out of his jokes. we all smile and nod, or in my case, turn my head and grimace) and tries to make sure our trashcans get emptied, etc. (yes, since we aren't in actual enclosed cubes, we don't get janitorial services. at least, that seems to be the going logic.) melissa and i today agreed that it is possible that ted is sweet on her. we then agreed that people are lots of fun. or are at least amusing.

also nearby is an aging male texas hippie. they're their own breed, these guys. they don't smell, they look clean, but their hair is long, and their clothes are appropriate for casual office attire AND/OR a few nights camping in the hill country. he is a nice guy, really nice, and not in that fake creepy texas nice way that makes my skin crawl, but genuinely nice. and he keeps pecans and plastic-wrapped packs of square-shaped mexican gum on a filing cabinet for anyone who wants. i like him.

there is also the creepy science lady who works in the cube directly past the wall in front of melissa and me. she is an odd one. our general feeling is that we don't like her. she does not give out gum. and we think she was one of the people who complained about us when we first moved here. she looks funny.

so that, in a nutshell, is our general area. paco, your letter is totally up on my wall. as are a billion other things that probably make passerby think i am a nutcase.

well shame on them for being right...

Thoughts...

coworker e and i just went on our regularly scheduled coffee/soda morning mission. its not really a mission, theres a coffee machine twenty paces away from my computer, and i get at least two cups before she and i go on our walk. that's what it mostly is. its a walk and talk. and today's was extremely... something.

selfless acts

what is the nature of selfless acts? this is what e and i discussed today. and its hitting me much more deeply than i would have expected.

what is a selfless act? for our purposes, we clothed the idea in the more hands on idea of helping people. e goes to al anon meetins, and she says its very clear there that you help other people to help yourself first. that it aids them is secondary. in al anon worldview, helping others is how you keep yourself sane and balanced, and it also serves the purpose of helping others. then they help you, and it keeps them sane and balanced, but as a bonus it helps you. etc.

it all starts getting down to the system to me. i suppose i should write it The System. its not a little system, but part of the big, overarching system. in fact, it might be The System, the biggun. the real and eternal link between the greater power(s) and humankind. this idea of mutual reenforcement, of helping others to help yourself, and because in time you may yourself need help, is what the net of humanity is all about. humanity is a net. no one person acts alone. we are all connected to each other by the strands of our actions and interactions.

we are all part of the system by virtue of being born. and here's where it starts getting down to my own little beliefs and ideals. and that's why this became a touchy conversation for e and i; these are beliefs that i hold that don't necessarily jive with other opinions i have. its uncomfortable to try and explain them, because i feel and sound like a hypocrite, and also because there's little to explain. these aren't rational and thought-out methods and systems. these are some implanted shit. the shit that is there because your parents put it there, or disney put it there, or whoever/whatever got to you when you were a young little egg of a human being.

i don't like trying to dissect people's actions when it comes to helping others. this is clearly bucking the trend. i love dissecting people's actions, all the time. i live to dissect people's actions. to take them apart like a small pocket watch, examine all the little springs and gears and find out what makes them tick. i am the true progeny of two clinical psychologists. and yet, when it comes to helping others, there can be no questioning.

you help others because that is what you are supposed to do.

e's response to that was, "according to whose mandate?" i don't know. mine. god's. i suppose it is that tiny. i just hold a very strong belief that people should help others because that is what they're supposed to do. but that is part of why i hold that mandate. because i fear that if people discuss, and debate, and codify what behavior is "selfless", what qualifies, what doesn't, what is more selfless, what is less selfless; all that judgement and hierarchizing miss the point.

you help others because that is what you are supposed to do.

there is a line of talmudic debate that focuses on whether a good deed is categorically "better" if done by someone who enjoys doing it, or someone who doesn't enjoy doing it. if you enjoy doing good deeds, clearly you must be a better person, that much more devoted to spreading god's kindness and mercy. but on the other hand, perhaps you just like that smug little sense of superiority you get from doing it. feeling like you made a difference absolves a tiny measure of that guilt inside you; that guilt that stems from being in the position of superiority in the first place. if you don't enjoy doing good deeds, then you must not be as interested in kindness and mercy, and spreading god's will upon the earth. yet, perhaps, because you still do good deeds, even though you don't want to, you take those teachings even more to heart, because you go against your own wishes to perform acts of loving kindness.

the debate is stirring, and thought provoking, but i feel it also obscures an important kernel at its core. god's will is to spread love and kindness across the earth. his/her desire is that we raise up our fellow humans, show them mercy and compassion, and do her work. you do good deeds, because they are good deeds. they are the right thing to do. to a degree, i think questioning it all is unnecessary. the person who benefits by your actions benefits, regardless of whether you wanted to take those actions or not.

i'm losing track a bit here. its hard to keep it together. i don't even know if i've said everything i wanted to say. but i think i have to be done with this segment for now.

psychological painting

i don't have as much to say about this, but it also came up in our discussion (as a handy method to shift the subject away from selfless acts, as that discussion was riling me up). i have some pictures of mine up at my workspace. by which i mean, pictures i painted/drew. three are of faces. or heads. human heads. none have eyes. i'm not sure why i don't draw eyes on my art. i mean, they are difficult to get right. but e suggested because i don't want them to be able to see. mom has also noticed the lack of eyes, and she finds it slightly disturbing as well.

but i think that might be right. i don't want them to have to engage the world, i don't want the world to have to engage them. i want them clean and non-judgemental; you cannot judge what you cannot see. i want them to be objects only, not characters with thoughts, feelings, and motivations of their own. am i sick enough to be afraid that my own drawings will judge me unfit and turn on me? i'll come into work one morning and they'll have all tacked themselves to some more worthy worker's walls? apparently i might be. i cannot take the challenge that would be leveled at me from oil-pasteled eyes. i only wish to kiss their blind lips, and love them without their presenting the danger of abandonment.

for her part, e said she drew a lot of pictures where the people had no eyes OR mouths. all in all a very interesting conversation this morning.

Getting Ready to Leave

thank god the work day is almost over. i didn't do a blessed thing today. not a goddamned thing. i sat on my ass all day and accomplished nothing. its like everyone associated with our project died, it was so quiet.

and its not like i don't have things i should be doing with my time. but hey. whatever. i think i'm gonna try out some yoga tonight at a nearby studio. if its something i like, i can start doing it once or twice a week instead of worshipping the stairmaster, so that might be nice. of course, i'll try to get to the gym before that... because i am crazy. but not with a k. with a c, like normal people spell it.

in other news, i don't know. i'm feeling uncommunicative. so i'm gonna stop trying.

peace

Avoiding Work...

seriously though... i so don't want to take the half hour to do a little tech-check that i'm sitting here trying to think of what the f. to say in my blog. i don't really have much on hand... lets see what we can do nonetheless.

paco, there will be no pictures of the Apostle. just no. he does not get pictures. you don't want to see him. he is not cute. i don't want to see him. every time i do see him (and am forced to awkwardly interact with him) i wish he would just not exist. its painful, really. because he seems so sweet and nice that there's just no way this situation will not end up hurting him. no pictures. this man does not exist.

life generally speaking continues apace. i need to be working on important things, but i'm not. but i'm trying. i actually have been frighteningly productive recently, even during my weekends. of course, this doesn't mean i'm enjoying my time anymore than i would be otherwise, but at least at the end of my unhappy days, more is done than when i started.

someone e-mailed me on a dating site because they noted i had perused their profile. we've been exchanging short hellos, but his keep getting shorter and shorter, like the way a stream gets drier and drier and finally gives one last little trickle before the drought really sets in. i'm not expecting much from all this. but hey, at least its a momentary distraction.

wolf boy has of course not deigned to call or e-mail me. he is clearly done with me. and most of me understands this. except for that one last niggling little voice that's like, "wait! he may come through yet!" that voice is really irritating. i wish it would just shut up and let me be completely bitter and jaded. hope takes too much energy.

hmm... had a shrink appointment after work today, but oscar (shrink) called and moved it to friday, so i get to go home and sweat it out on the stairmaster after all. its so funny how i demand instant results from all sectors of my life. like, "i've been working out for a month and a half now! where's the six-pack and accompanying throngs of hot man-flesh to satisfy my every want and desire?" that is not how it works. i've been trying to remind myself of this, but i'm a tough sell.

i wonder why i even entertain thoughts of romance when i'm quite sure i'm nowhere near healthy enough to say "hello" to someone. perhaps i'm being unduly harsh on myself. but the fact remains, i'm not in a good way. its all i can do to keep myself strung together for three days at a time. but god only knows. it wouldn't be fair to inflict myself on anyone else right now, and if that's how i feel about it, its really true.

romance sucks. i think a perfect valentine's day gift to a happy couple would be a moldering corpse, freshly delivered to their doorstep.

had a talk with kas and chris about going back to school for a masters in architecture. they were both rather heavy on the warnings. its not as fun as it seems, its not that great a creative outlet, get your license as soon as you can or you get stuck being a CAD monkey, even with a license, you'll probably get stuck in project management hell, there are eight firms in a billion that can give you what you want, you'll be lucky if people know your name by the time your sixty, etc. i appreciate their honesty, but i really don't need help doubting myself. its good that they're looking out for me and want the best for me. but i need to do something, and i do like architecture, and i'm sure i'll be able to figure out some way to make it work for me. or at least i think so. so whatever whatever whatever. i think i must continue on this path.

dammnit! its three, and i still have shit to do, and i hate everything. grrrr and aargh. i hate meeting people and subsequently being rejected by them, but i love figuring out the puzzles new people present. i like the exploration and discovery and information gathering, etc. i think i need some hobbies myself. i need some things to do.

i want to see a medium. i need some guidance over here.