Through someone else's eyes

About a week ago, I took pictures and helped out at a luncheon held for a group of mentally disabled people.






It was very heartwarming, indeed. There is just something about the way that they view the world with such wide-eyed enthusiasm. Seeing santa made them ecstatic; singing Christmas Carols got them all riled up (they didn't really know the words all that well, but it didn't matter); they were so happy to just be in the moment and enjoy what was in front of them.

I feel like we can all learn a little from that. It at least served as a shift in perspective. The opportunity to be selfless (for once in my damn life) was also quite refreshing. I've noticed I spend an awful lot of time thinking of myself and catering to my own needs. Stepping outside of that seems to act as a soul rejuvenator.

I hope everyone has a great holiday. :)

Oh James...

What a FANTASTIC desktop!!

I enjoy James Marsden, but this picture makes me looooove him.

*Swoooon*

HOLY SHIT!

I am mortified and elated all at once!!!!

There is nothing new on television. Is this necessarily a bad thing? :P

I am excited to see what they do with the Eliminator. My guess is that it will be like the old Eliminator, but on crack. I'm hoping for live alligators!

The only thing that will be missing from the new American Gladiator?


Look at that glorious hair. I bet it shimmers in candlelight.

I get goosebumps just thinking about it! RRRooowwwrrr...

Ha ha ha

I just found this entire concept amusing:


That would be my friend's expensive-ass Mercedes with a Christmas Tree tied to the roof. Fun times.

I don't know what Meme means, but I'll go with it...

My friend Nikki tagged me to do this; normally, I wouldn't do something like it, but I love her so much that I couldn't resist. So... 7 random things about me:

1. I can kick myself in the forehead. This would be surprising, except I have shown most people this nifty trick. This caveat doesn't make the statement any less random though. :)

2. My first kiss didn't happen until I was almost 22 years old. I figured out that I'm gay when I was around 10 or so. I came to terms with it fairly quickly; however, I knew that most other people would not be so hunky-dory about that fact. So I stayed closeted until I was 21 (when I couldn't hold it in anymore). I've never been much for misleading people (too hard to maintain a false front), so I didn't date any women before I came out. As a result, I didn't have my first kiss until I was out and dating.

3. I LOVE Hannah Montana. In fact, the most played song in my itunes is "If We Were A Movie" (look it up... it's AMAZING!). I am not all that different than an 8 year old girl.

4. I learned how to say the alphabet backward. Why? Because of my paranoia about cops pulling me over and potentially accusing me of drunk driving. I can say it very quickly too!

5. I own 29 pairs of shoes. I only wear about 4 or 5 on a regular basis. The rest collect dust under my bed. I've been trying to branch out and wear different shoes as of late. I think I have been quite successful so far. Oh, and I keep them all in their original boxes.

6. When I sleep, I make no noise and barely move. I'm not exaggerating either; most people that have shared a bed with me or seen me sleep literally think I am dead. I usually suggest that they check and make sure I'm still breathing. :)

7. I do metric-english conversions in my head. I know the conversion rates for centimeters, liters, etc. and have known them since 7th grade. I can't really explain how my brain works, but needless to say it is pretty odd. I also have a mental GPS and rarely get lost (and no, I don't mean that in the "I'm a guy and never get lost" way).

There you have it. Those really aren't all that interesting, but I never know what to share in these kinds of fact-divulging activities. I think I'm supposed to tag someone else to do this, soooooo.... I pick... hmm. I'll get back to you all on that one.

I left my heart...

...in San Francisco:


View from my hotel room


A random church while riding the cable car


Coit tower, seen from my hotel room


Saks Fifth Avenue and a cable car


Approaching the station


Dining hall in prison (Alcatraz)


Inmate's view

FABULOUS

This is what I look like now.

How is it possible that I STILL have love-handles????

What I look like...

...when I am hungry but unable to eat:


My family went down to Oceanside for my grandpa's birthday today. He turned 78. Woo old!

We went Black Angus. Now, as many of you know, I LOVE food. Especially mass quantities of it. The statement holds even more truth when the food is unhealthy.

EVERYTHING on that menu looked fan-fucking-tastic. My tears and drool mixed together in a puddle on the table as I read over all of the meals that I couldn't even try to eat. I pathetically whimpered and my parents whimpered in sympathy. Salads, appetizers, steaks, chicken, desserts!! Holy shit, I just wanted to inhale everything!

I ordered mashed potatoes.

I only ate about 1/3 of them.

By the end of the night, the pain from swallowing migrated from my throat to my ears. Talk about aggravating.

I just want to eat. :(

EDIT: Damn, my hands are HUGE!!! :P

I'm one stomach flu away from my ideal weight

So a lot of people have been joking about wishing they could have a tonsillectomy to help them lose weight.

I weighed myself this morning: 151.5 pounds...

About a year and a half ago, I weighed 200 pounds. I have lost a quarter of my body weight! That's a bit ridiculous. I've only lost about 10-15 pounds with the tonsillectomy, but still.

I want to EAT so badly! I have compiled a list of foods, broken down by meal type, that I will be eating once I can eat again. And let me tell you, it is about as disgusting and unhealthy as humanly possible. The beauty of it all is that I don't care! Ha ha ha ha ha ha

Oh yeah, I lost my wits about 3 days ago. Just so you know. :)

I would take a picture and show you what my body looks like right now, but I can't imagine any of you want to see that. Amanda and Nikki, you haven't seen me in a while, so I imagine you would both be quite shocked at how skinny I am.

Inspiration

Why am I so bad at follow-through?

I don't know if I'm just lazy or apathetic, but I can never seem to consistently do anything.

Well, that's not entirely true. I do manage to eat all the time. Now THAT I am good at!

I'm referring, of course, to this blog. Granted, if I had more exciting things to write about, I imagine that I would. Although, when I really think about it, there have been plenty of interesting occurrences this year. Instead of stopping to write them down (and purge on some level), I just sit on them.

For instance, I could write an entry about my tonsillectomy experience. At the least, it would pass the time (as I am now 6 days into the recovery and pretty sure that I've lost my mind). But no, I'm not in the mood.

Give me a few minutes, I'm going to go into the backyard and give myself a swift kick to the ass. Maybe that will wake me up!

I really can kick myself in the ass. I can also kick myself in the head. I'll show you sometime. ;-)

An ode

My dog is 16. Man alive!

He acts like a puppy though. Well, not all the time; but he definitely acts like one when he's waiting for a walk or a treat.

What a great dog.

We don't need no water

This is the fire in Santiago Canyon. I'm standing in our backyard:



It looks really close, but it's several miles away. Granted, most people don't want fire that close to their homes. I feel worst for San Diego....

Hopefully we don't have to evacuate. Although, that would add a splendid twist to October.

Slice and Dice

Soooo I had my appendix removed yesterday. I'm back at home, resting now. Boy is it boring recovering from surgery! :P

On top of that, there is a fire burning about 5 miles from our house. Can we add these things to the list of why 2007 is the worst year ever? (At least in my world)

Yes please.

I'll say more when I'm less hopped up on pain killers and the air quality gets a little better, ha ha

Day 2!

Top 5 ways to embarrass Stephen:

1. Put him in a situation where everyone else knows what they are doing and he doesn't have a fucking clue which way is up.
2. Pull down his pants in front of a lot of people.
3. Catch him when he misuses a word or says something that isn't correct and then call him on it.
4. Find files on his computer of "questionable" content and ask him about them (you probably don't want to do this... nothing makes me angrier than someone snooping through my shit).
5. Make a scene in public (one in which you are really nasty/mean to someone, ESPECIALLY when said nastiness is unwarranted).

The end.

Oh, and these aren't necessarily in order of severity. In that case, number five would be my number one. Without question.

Tomorrow's List: Top 5 Flammable Objects!!!

Ooh la la!

Getting in the Rhythm

In an attempt to make blogging here into a habit, I am going to incorporate thematic writing.

Well, I use the term "writing" loosely... One, because you can hardly call what I do writing; and two, because making lists is fairly remedial (and it's not really writing... granted, it falls under the auspices of writing, but still... okay, I'll shut up now).

ANYWAY.

I originally intended to make TOP 10 lists (kind of sort of in a way borrowing the idea from David Letterman. Well, less "kind of sort of in a way borrowing" and more outright stealing). Much to my surprise and dismay, I discovered it difficult to think of interesting categories in which I could come up with 10 items. Let alone items that I would consider worthy of a top 10 list.

So, I give you.... *long, incessant drum roll* THE TOP 5 LISTS A-GO-GO!!!

A-GO-GO really increases the vibrancy of... well... pretty much EVERYTHING.

Every day (or so), I will create a new top 5 list. My hope in this regard is to provide insight into my psychoses-laden brain. You will learn. A LOT.

Trust me.

Okay, list #1 -

Top 5 NQSS-YNQSLE Foods
(Not quite so solid - yet not quite so liquid either)

1. Slightly melted coffee ice cream (preferably Haagen Dazs)
2. Strawberry La Creme yogurt (NO CHUNKS! WOO!)
3. Apple Sauce
4. Jell-O chocolate pudding
5. Strawberry Jell-O

Oh OH, I forgot one important point. These lists are not provided for the sake of criticism. I'm not eliciting arguments here (I know strawberry Jell-O may not fit into the NQSS-YNQSLE category). Just bear with me and revel in the insanity. Your life will be much easier if you do so. :)

I get by with a little help...

I miss my friends. :(

Lick

Evandro Soldati:





I'll take two, please.

Pider!!!!!

Ewww. This thing is in the planter in our backyard:



Granted, it's not HUGE or anything. About 2 1/2 inches or so across. But still, that's plenty big for a spider, if you ask me.

I wanted to get closer to take a picture, but I was so afraid it was going to jump off its web on to my face and start chomping away.

I am not a meal, Mr. Spider. No sirree.

Welcome to my Labor Day. Please enjoy the festivities. Or lack thereof. :D

You're really pretty! Thank you! So you Agree? What? You think you're really pretty...

So let's recap my Monday. Well, the amount of Monday I've had anyway:

8:00am - boss informs us she is resigning

8:30am - director informs me that I will be shifting into a different position because of my boss resigning. My new job is more stressful and chaotic, without better pay.

9:00am - doctor calls to let me know that my X-Ray showed pneumonia in my left lung. Not too bad; only need to go back to deal with it if the antibiotics I'm already on don't fix it.

10:00am - Move all of my shit to another office for the rest of the day because my desk has been taken to another building. New desk arrives? Tomorrow.

11:00am - Kinkos messed up my order estimate. Instead of the total being $1392, it was $1865. 500 dollars? Kind of a big difference.

1:00pm - While vacuuming the floor where my desk used to be, I misstep and my Prada sandal breaks. Now I am semi-sans shoes. Cute. Temporarily fixed with two rubber bands and my soul:



I think today wins the stupid Monday award. Hmmm, maybe the stupid sexy Monday award. Rubber banded Prada? I don't care what J. Timberlake says: THAT shit brought sexy back!

And my foot is damn cute. So fresh and so clean clean!

I love today.

Seriously now...

The fact there are human beings that look like this?



SO. NOT. FAIR.

That is Jason Chambers. He's hosting some show on The History Channel called "The Human Weapon." I think I will be watching (aka staring at him and drooling) on a weekly basis.

I need to go to the gym...

And get some serious plastic surgery.

Lisa Loeb

So our city puts on a concert series in the park behind our house every Summer. And yesterday, Lisa Loeb performed. Talk about nostalgia!



She was quite an amazing performer. It was just her and her guitar. I enjoyed all 50 minutes of it. Especially considering it was free. :)

Coming soon!

Hawaii ramblings coming soon. For now, feast your eyes on a couple of my favorite shots from the trip:

I should have quit while I was behind

Why do I even bother anymore? It's not worth the effort! *Sigh*

Do you think they have an online application for Monasteries? Or do I have to go the old fashioned route with a paper resume and cover letter?

Inquiring minds want to know.

We're all stars and we see that...

I enjoy my unique sensibility.

How many people do you know weave in and out of traffic driving 90 in a 50mph zone while listening to "We're All in This Together" from High School Musical?

Daring to be different. And NOT doing it just for the sake of being different. :)

Short shorts? FUCK OFF

HA HA HA HA

Wheels a-turnin'

So I've been thinking a lot lately about my patterns.

I have a tendency to fawn over men who are not interested in me. This isn't one of those "thrill of the chase" type of scenarios. I'm not chasing after men who are just playing hard to get. Rather, I seem to obsess over those who wouldn't give a shit if I went away or stopped talking to them.

And of course, this fact only goads me to try and make them like me. I obsess and get sad and hope that one day, if I do the right thing at the right moment, something will change in their perception of me. That they will all of a sudden care about me as much as I seem to care about them.

Why do I do this? Why would I want to be with someone who isn't as excited to see/talk to/be with me as I am to see/talk to/be with them? There really is something askew in my head. I am very rational; I can look at this situation and clearly see the fallacy of my actions and decisions. I should not waste my time on such unrequited adoration. I deserve better than that.

Enter the Berlin Wall of my brain.

Emotion and Rationality are stuck on opposite sides of the wall. They aren't friends and they aren't going to reconcile anytime soon. Despite the rational part of my brain that can assess and disapprove of my behavior, the emotional side wallows. I am sad, I am frustrated, I am disheartened; even though I know I shouldn't give two shits about it and move on.

I'm not even looking to be with anyone, for Pete's sake!!!

And yet, I sit. Stuck. I guess I can say that the one thing I'm good about is not initiating contact with him (since clearly, at the moment, I am referring to a specific individual; I don't fawn after several men at once. It's a rarity that I find a guy to like period). Of course, it's probably not good that I spend an absurd amount of time hoping that he will contact me.

When did I decide that I come second? My job is not to win someone over with intense effort. If mutual attraction is there, great; I should go with it. If it isn't, I should let go and realize that I am worth more than all of the waiting around I do.

Let go, Stephen. For your sake, be calm and stop over-thinking and scrutinizing EVERYTHING. Let things be as they are and go with the flow. You deserve it.

Please realize that already.

(I like that I'm speaking to myself. Talk about insanity!)

Sunburn + Lotion does not = relief

Okay, I've learned my lesson.

DO NOT put lotion on a sunburn. Maybe something with aloe. Maybe a regiment that is specifically made for sunburns. But NOT lotion.

My thought process was simple: when you get a sunburn, you need to keep the skin hydrated so that it doesn't dry out and peel. Well, apparently lotion and that dry, burned skin don't get along. My shoulders and arms started to sting and itch intensely the second I put it on.

I started hopping around my bathroom screaming like a little girl. Well, a little girl with the mouth of a sailor. I believe the word "fuck" was used quite profusely. And "damn it".

SOOOOOOO not doing that again. Yikes.

What the hell do people spend all day talking about?

Ninety percent of the time, I don't feel like I have anything to say to anyone.

Conversations are a chore. I never know what to say, nor do I care to come up with things to say just to fill the empty air. So often times, I sit in silence. Which can be awkward, but for the most part it's not awkward for me.

However, sometimes I worry that my conversational counterparts think I'm not interested in them or the conversation.

My insecurities lie in the emphasis on fluid conversations in successful friendships/relationships. It's not that I don't have things to talk about; I just don't find them relevant or important in the moment. On top of that, I really have no desire to sit around talking about myself; nor do I want to feel like I'm interviewing the people I'm talking to (asking a constant stream of questions with no sort of reciprocal questioning from the person I'm speaking with).

I think that I think too much about this.

BLOOD!!!

Funny kid

HA HA HA HA HA. Gets me every time.

What the fuck?

What do these two have in common?

They were both on Larry King Live this week.

Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum.

Am I, like, 3 steps below "pretty cool"?

Sometimes I wonder where I fit on the amazing people scale.

Am I unwittingly close to the top? Or am I sinking toward the bottom as people pretend to be interested in me and what I have to say? Or am I, as the title suggests, 3 steps below cool?

I am surrounded by AMAZINGLY wonderful people. All the time. I find that rarely am I in the company of socially inept, unmotivated, boring individuals. I find things in everyone that I admire and appreciate.

I suppose my hope is that I offer them qualities that they enjoy and appreciate in return.

Either way, I'm quite lucky. :)

Leavenworth RULES!

I love prisons.

That's probably not the most appropriate way to state that. I really do not support the structure of the incarceration component of our penal system, nor do I think that the methods by which our government regulates punishment are conducive to progress (the lack of rehabilitation, the high propensity for recidivism, the entire prison-industrial complex, etc.).

However, I find prison culture FASCINATING. The History Channel is airing a documentary on the Aryan Brotherhood and its influence in maximum security penitentiaries. The fact that they refer to the brotherhood as "the brand" is awesome.

I think that Prison culture offers a lot of insight into human behavior. An entire industry of prison sociology, psychology, and anthropology exists for a reason. How does the environment created in prisons contribute to violent/further criminal behavior? What compels the prisoners to collude and create intricate and effective networks across prison complexes? What factors provide the space for these networks to thrive and influence the prison scene?

I LOVE THIS SHIT!

On top of all the educational angles of approach to the study of the prison system, I find it incredibly entertaining that these people are bat-shit crazy. How did they get this way? And are they honestly all that different than the rest of us?

Oh, and by the way: anyone that will hide a ten-inch blade up their ass = A-OK in my book. :P

EDIT (9:46pm): The just showed a segment on communication between the prisoners. The Aryan Brotherhood utilized a code system based on the work of Sir Francis Bacon which relies on dual alphabets. THEY WROTE IN CODE FROM A 16TH CENTURY PHILOSOPHER! What sophistication! I'm quite certain that several of the people that lead this country (Bush included) wouldn't even recognize the name Francis Bacon. If that doesn't say something, I don't know what does.

December 24 to June 24

What happened with Collin hurt.

6 months later, it still kinda hurts. I have no idea what role he played in my life (in the grand scheme of things, that is). I don't know what I'm supposed to get out of that interaction. And I don't know why it still occupies my thoughts.

I guess the lesson to learn from the Collin experience is run the other way when I meet a guy who is recently out of a relationship. Because they always go back; and I'm the one who ends up hurt in the end.

*sigh*

Reason to be ELATED

Three words:

Aly

and

AJ.

They are going to be at Verizon Amphitheater! If I had no shame (believe me, I'm about as close to having none as one can get) I would totally be looking for tickets right now to go see them.

I'm practically a prepubescent girl. And you know you love it.

I don't want to touch the bush

This is me. Today. With my mop-hair.

Look at that shit-eating grin. Who knew I could look so happy and childlike?

I like this picture. I don't know why. Probably because I was laughing when it was taken. I appreciate the genuine quality of my expression.

My blog title actually fits right now...

I am unsettled. And I don't know why.

Perhaps "June Gloom" is infiltrating my pores and finding its way to my brain.

I don't want to be at work. I don't want to be at home. I don't really want to be anywhere.

The last time I cried was 3 years ago. I think I'm in dire need of a breakdown. Just to get the water out. It's building up behind my eyes and the pressure is causing headaches. :P

Damn.

STUPID

Websites should screen members for stupidity.

Why is it that so many people continue to forward and post chain messages as if they are valid? Even the "I don't necessarily believe that they are true, but I'll forward them just in case" excuse is not acceptaple.

Stop the hate. Stop the madness: don't forward chain messages.

Thank you.

Wilhelmina!

Okay, Vanessa Williams is GORGEOUS.

She looks absolutely stunning. Better than women half her age. She is rocking the sequins like there is no tomorrow.

I promise I'll write something a little less superficial soon. My brain is anything but functional right now.

DEUCES!

The best show on television, without hesitation, is Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School.

A house full of crazy, sloppy, crude girls and a plus-size sassy diva?

QUALITY PROGRAMMING.

Whenever I watch this show, I scream at the tv. I laugh harder than I laugh most days. I even cried once.

Thank you, VH1, for bringing class back to reality television.

I'm SO going to slap you!

Moments like this make me worried.

These men are members of the Turkish Parliament (picture from BBC News). While they are not members of our congress, I operate without any delusion that our representatives are "above" this behavior. It's fascinating how men can be reduced to idiotic physical altercation so easily. Our leaders should be working toward creating a better world. They should represent our intellectual elite; the people with the capacity to make the best possible decisions for us as a people. Instead, they act like baboons.

Debating the salient points of an issue? NO.

Hitting each other and screaming? YES!

I worry for the world. Constantly. I tell myself I should be reading the news more often. I have no clue why I want to be well-versed in world news and politics; the second I read the news and see the pictures, I get so angry/exasperated that I can barely function.

I don't stay up on politics because I am trying to prevent an aneurysm.

So with that, I go back to Mean Girls. To calm my brain from the trauma of news.bbc.co.uk.

LEAVE LINDSAY A-LOHAN!

My deskicle!

Isn't it CUTE!?!

The accomodations here are quite luxurious.

It's in the little things

They just called for a juror named Jerry Garcia.

FANTASTIC.

Woo!

Hot guy at 2:00!



I love jury duty! :P

This is, like, some serious Matlock shit up in here

It’s 8:00 am. I have been sitting in the Jury Room of the Superior Court in Santa Ana since 7:20.

I’m bored already.

Looking around, I can’t help but feel that jury service is not unlike cattle herding. One thousand people are sitting around in this room (well… somewhere around that; the max capacity for the room is 850), staring forward at a blank wall and two television screens that have repeated the same 10 slides ad nauseum. Some people continue to read the slides; the rest have abandoned all hope, just as I have. We all await our turn at the branding post. Or, better yet: the slaughter house.

Take us for our meat and blood, bitches! I’m ready!

Several individuals have passed out. What a great idea! Until they miss the orientation information. Perhaps they are heavy sleepers; you never know…

There is a guy across the aisle reading a book by Ann Coulter. I’ve had my eye on him since he came in here; he’s quite attractive. My interest waned when the book surfaced. I can understand and tolerate some conservative ideals (my father is the poster child for staunch republicanism); but Ann Coulter is Satan. Anyone who willingly reads her books makes me wary.

I am irritable as a result of the defunct operation of this jury room. There are tables set up in the back of the room for jurors with laptops. I’m not too concerned about the power supply; my battery will last for quite some time. However, upon attempting to log on to the free wireless internet (woo!), I was accosted by courtroomconnection.com. Apparently I have to obtain some sort of access code from the jury room staff in order to hop on the web.

There isn’t a single staff member in the jury room.

Enter Stephen pet peeve #253: Mandates from people/entities who do not provide the resources necessary to complete them.

I’m tempted to go to the check-in counter to inquire about the access code. I imagine they would not enjoy that; but is that my problem? Honestly, people. Don’t tell me to talk to jury room staff for an access code if there is no one to talk to.

After some reflection (aka a minute or two later), I realized that access to the internet at 8am is pretty pointless. I need to calm it down. I’m already in the courthouse; they might just bypass arresting me and take me directly into a courtroom for sentencing if I go postal in the jury room.

Who am I kidding? Our penal system is about as inefficient as can be. Thank you, Prison-Industrial Complex, for saving my ass today.

I will right more later on. I have been assigned to a jury pool for a case that will last the rest of the month. Maybe I’ll have the opportunity to be one of the 12 angry men. Hot damn!

I am SO going to lobby to be jury foreman.

mismatch.com

Has anyone else noticed that the man in the match.com advertisements online is always the same? He comes in quite a variety: pretty doctor, pretty rocker, pretty nerd.

The common thread though it all is "pretty", of course.

I'm having a difficult time dealing with this as of late. Growing up, we were taught by the people who care about us that looks are only part of the equation. They should be a very small part at that.

And yet, knowing this - knowing that physical beauty is ultimately of little meaning when it comes to knowing and loving a person - is different than living it.

In the process of embarking on my journey of introspection and growth, I've come to realize that I don't value myself like I always thought I did. I have some esteem and confidence issues; and I'm embarrassed to say they are rooted in how physically inadequate I feel.

I am intelligent. I am funny. I am enjoyable to be around. I'm caring, I love to make people smile, I am not afraid of saying how I feel or what I'm thinking; I am genuinely me, even when that means someone may not like who I am (rarely does this happen... of course, people could be lying, ha ha). I am not cocky; rather, I am self-aware, which is much more than most people can say about themselves.

And yet, I lack confidence because I don't feel "pretty." I don't feel like I am appealing on a physical level: I'm scrawny, I have the facial features of a little boy (CHUBBY CHEEKS... BLAH), my glasses always run to the end of my nose and make me look awkward, the love-handles don't seem to quit, my butt is flat/saggy, my smile is crooked and so are some of my teeth, blah blah blah blah blah.... I can keep going and going and going.

That scares me.

We are our own worst critics. What I fear is that my critique has moved from constructive to disparaging. I shouldn't be paralyzed by my dissatisfaction with my physical appearance. But I am. It has stopped me from being bold and approaching guys I find attractive; it has made me timid when I didn't need to be.

People think I'm vain because I'm always looking at myself in mirrors, reflections in windows; what they don't realize is that, when I look at my reflection, I'm fixating on my flaws. I see the awkward/dumpy way that I look. The way I hope to look in the mirror never materializes; I only see the short, chubby, and unattractive 15 year old that never left my head despite puberty's effects.

I think it's good that I've recognized this. Acknowledgement is the first step to recovery. Now is my time to learn to love me as a WHOLE.

If I can't do that, then I hold no hope for the future. Wish me luck.

Neuroses really get in the way

So I was just on a porn site where people can post all sorts of videos. Each one is given a title and a brief description. Now, I'm not so anal as to think that all titles and descriptions need to and will be proof-read. However, some things just aren't okay. Let me explain why.

On the main page, someone had entitled their video: "Me Expoding."

Expoding.

The problem really isn't in the misspelling. As I said before, I hold no expectations for a porn site. The fact that people can even get a pornographic video uploaded onto a page is a miracle. Men tend to degenerate into neanderthals once sex becomes involved. The old adage is true: men have two brains and blood can only be supplied to one at a time. Quite frankly, it's amazing that blood even gets to the brain atop my body at all.

What I actually find disturbing about this typo is its effect on the video's potential to be provocative. Perhaps this is something that only I would think about. Call me crazy, but the video goes from alluring to humorous the second I think about someone saying "expoding" aloud. I think of someone saying it in the middle of sex.

"oh OH OHHHHHH I'm EXPODING! I'M EXPODING!"

Perhaps I've taken a turn toward approaching sex analytically. I made a bet with my friend that I would not have any sort of sexual contact for 6 months (ends October 24: T minus 5 months). For a while I was just horny; now I get off to get it out of the way. When libido becomes a nuisance, I suppose the only way to go is analytical.

Anyway, life is fine. It seems to keep going. And going. And going. And going.

I need a hobby. Other than pornography. I can't really discuss that one while out making friends.

Audi-mobile

So here's my coche. Sometimes I look at it and still don't believe that it's my car. It is just so cute and tiny. Unlike me, ha ha.

Life lessons are Ugly

Ugg, I am so Betty Suarez.

I suppose that is both a good and a bad thing. Bad when it comes to the circumstances, good when it comes to the strength and perseverance of character.

Here's to the brace-faced, awkward, poorly-dressed, genuine and determined person in all of us.

*Chugs a six pack*

(But not really. More like ate too many cookies)

Superficial Gratification

So this week has been quite the upper!

I got a new DVD player, a new cell phone, AND a new car within the past 5 days. Plus I started the new job. Things seem to be going well. :)

It's quite sad that the events which made this week great were all incredibly superficial and money driven. That's not to say that I shouldn't be excited for these things; but I hope that I have the wherewithal to know that these things do not provide true happiness. Otherwise I will spend my life chasing the next high hoping to fill some void.

I am not looking at these things in a satiating way; I don't believe that they are ultimately going to lead to my happiness. Sure, they are fun and all, but my happiness has to come from within.

Okay, I'm going to stop before I begin to sound like one of those crazy life coaches who motivate you to be THE BEST YOU POSSIBLE! (for $39.99 a month and with the purchase of this AMAZING book...)

Peace out, foolios.

Tick... tick... tick...

I cannot wait until this job picks up.

I am sitting at my desk, watching the minutes crawl by. It seems that the first couple of weeks are the hardest: adjusting to a new office, a new staff, new tasks, new everything. What complicates matters is the fact that my lack of knowledge is paralyzing. I don't know what I should be doing with my last half hour. Perhaps in a couple of weeks I will have a clue as to what I can do proactively in my space.

But for now, I sit. Waiting to go home on a Friday afternoon.

A chicken caesar salad would be great right about now. Mmmmm...

New job

I have been at my new job for two days now.

I barely have a clue what I'm doing. :P

There is a learning curve, no doubt. I just wish I could get to the "knowledgeable and competent" part already. I don't like walking around like a putz, ha ha.

I think this will be a good place to be for a while. Especially once I know what I'm doing!

Audi: T minus 7 or 8 days

Traditional Romance vs. Intentional Romance

I believe there are two types of romantics.

First, there is the traditional romantic. Now, let me start of by saying there is nothing wrong with this type of romantic. They operate with all of the optimism and hope that we should continually strive for. I believe that they keep the concept of love alive.

The traditional romantic works within the confines of a socially-set romance. Examples of this would include: purchasing a dozen roses and having them delivered to a significant other, that box of Godiva chocolates set out for Valentine's Day along with an "I love you" card, breakfast in bed, dinner and a walk on the beach for an anniversary. The list goes on and on. This type of romantic cries at romantic comedies and sappy films, holding onto the notion of true love and being swept up in the whimsical.

Then there is the intentional romantic. This type of person does not operate within the system of "romance" that most ascribe to. Giving a dozen roses is trite, buying chocolates is a waste of time and calories, and sappy movies are great but nothing to get all wrapped up in. Many people will often look at this person as a non-romantic because they don't live in a world of soul-mates and they don't sigh or fawn everytime someone tells a sweet story about their partner.

Or so it seems on the surface.

The intentional romantic operates with pointed effectiveness. Giving a dozen roses is trite and impersonal; knowing your partner's favorite flower, then strategically placing one on their nightstand, their bathroom counter, the seat of their car, at their desk at work, and finally a dozen in your grasp as you greet them when they come through the door after a long day is impactful. Gifting chocolates is conventional and fueled by a multi-million dollar industry that focuses on the crafting of "Romance"; remembering the little trinket that they mentioned in passing as you window-shopped one day during a great afternoon together, and then surprising them with said trinket when they least expect it is touching. Breakfast in bed is a staple of Mother's Day and romantic comedies; finding out their favorite meal from their favorite restaurant, talking to the management and chefs from that restaurant to find out how to make the meal, practicing cooking that meal several times until you get it *just* right, and then preparing that meal for them on a random night of the week when you know they have had a rough day is genuine. Intentional romance is where connection, forethought and effort meet. Examples of intentional romance are hard to identify and explain because they cannot operate outside of the connection between two people.

The difference between the two lies in the philosophy behind each type of romance. The traditional romantic is in love with the idea of romance; on some peripheral level, it does matter to them WHO they happen to be romantic with. But at the core they love the idea of love and romance; whoever they are with at the time reaps the benefits of their detached notions of a romantic relationship. The acts that are seen as "romantic" are impersonal; they are a set of romantic ideas with which we have been indoctrinated over time.

The intentional romantic does not see the need to hold onto the notion of romance as it stands within a societal context. Rather, the romance spawns from the love they feel for one person. The ideas and expressions of love come from the connection with that special person; the things that intentional romantics do for them are romantic because they are personal and intertwined with the love and affection that is specifically felt between them. This type of romance is carried out on a daily basis because it is not confined to the cliches set out by our culture. It is borne out of that specific bond and can never be repeated with another person.

I am an intentional romantic. I don't share myself or my affection with every guy I meet. These things are reserved for those that touch me at my core and make it all worthwhile.

In my head, all of this made much more sense. Now I'm not so sure. It's difficult to explain, but I know that I am a romantic at heart, despite the fact that I joke about being "dead inside" (like Chandler Bing!). You don't see my romantic side because it is shared with one person, not the world. And I intend to keep it that way.

I'll stop rambling now. I think I lost my point about 5 paragraphs ago, ha ha ha.

Someone to say this to me

"You're beautiful but you don't know
Can't see what's there inside your soul
Always feelin like you're not good enough
You wish you could be someone else
Sometimes you just can't see yourself
But I can see just who you are, who you are

You never think you measure up
Never smart or cool, or pretty enough
Always feeling different from all the rest
You feel so out of place, you think you don't fit in
I think you're perfect in the skin you're in
You're just perfect just how you are, just how you are, yeah

If you could see the one I see when I see you
You'd know how lucky you are to be you
I see through into you
And you are

You're exceptional the way you are
Don't need to change for nobody
You're incredible, anyone can see that
When will you believe that?
You are nothing but exceptional"

I wish I had someone saying this to me and that it would stick.

Leave it to JoJo and Diane Warren to make a cheesy song that resonates.

EDIT (1:01am): So, after reading over the lyrics again, I've come to the conclusion that this song isn't for me. I don't feel like I'm unaware of my wonderful qualities; I mean, at times I forget or doubt, but for the most part I've come to love ME. I know that I'm pretty damn exceptional, that I have a lot to offer, and that I'm doing quite alright in the grand scheme of things.

If anything, I'm waiting for someone else to see it too. To appreciate and fall in love with me for the person I am.

God, I'm really not this love-obsessed. Ha ha, I had a moment today where the clouds parted and I finally felt that everything is (and will be) okay. I'm content in where I'm at and what I have. Love will come in due time, but I'm in no hurry.

No hurry at all. :)

I really should stop writing at this hour. Talk about disjointed writing! I suppose this isn't a formal paper, but more a space for free-association. I'll just go with it already.

NO MORE MAIL

When I get home from a long day, I usually enjoy receiving a pile of mail. Most of the time I never receive anything; so a pile is pee-my-pants fantastic!

Except this week. First my volunteer rejection.

Today: JURY SUMMONS.

I stood in the kitchen with the obnoxious letter just laughing. Hysterically laughing. My mom thought I had lost it. Then I told her what I had received and she started laughing too.

2007, you are impressing me with your Stephen-spite. :P

I have decided...

... that I could live off of pepperoni pizza.

Granted, I wouldn't live very long. But what a joyous and short life it would be.

I cleaned out my desk today. Perhaps it was a premature decision, but I felt like I wanted to organize everything to the point where I would be ready to walk out for the last time on Friday afternoon.

It's always interesting to transition between jobs. I inevitably build a bond with the people in my office. What happens when I move away from here? I would love to continue talking to the people here in African American Studies, but how likely is that to happen?

I suppose that's for me to decide.

Despite my intense boredom during ohhhhhh 73% (yes, I said 73%) of the time I spent working here, I'm going to miss this place. The job was fairly dull; the people were (and continue to be) vibrant.

Here's to change. And to the cute student that works the front desk in my new office!

Hopefully he has an enjoyable personality as well. Looks only go so far. I should know; mine have only earned me a 57 foot yacht and a timeshare in the Virgin Islands. WHERE'S MY BLACK AMEX???

I'm going to stop rambling now. If I confuse you anymore, you might never come back!

Keep on Truckin'

When I got home from LA yesterday, I found a letter on my bed. It was from CHOC (Children's Hospital of Orange County, for those that don't know). I had applied to volunteer at the hospital and had just completed an interview a couple weeks ago.

I thought "wow! That was quite a fast turn around; I wonder when the orientation dates are." The woman I had interviewed with told me the time line and that I would be receiving the dates around this time, but I figured it was still quite quick. So I opened the letter, excited to see when I would be embarking on my community service adventure!

"I'm sorry to say we cannot offer you a volunteer position at this time..."

I was rejected.

FROM VOLUNTEERING.

It has come to the point where I'm not even good enough to GIVE MY TIME AND ENERGY FREELY.

Seriously, folks; I've been trying to stay positive. I've been trying to persevere through the shit that has been thrown at me this year. If I have gained anything from my experiences in 2007, I have learned how to cope with rejection (or at least handle it a little better). But this was a fucking low blow.

I'm just waiting for someone to come along at random and kick me in the nuts. That would be a good way to round out a fantastic 1/3 of the year.

I'm so numb to it all right now that I can't help but laugh. Honestly, nothing HORRIBLE has happened to me this year. Rather, I've experienced a series of things that add up to a major pain in my ass (let alone the actual pain in my ass from the abscess).

It's time to pack up and move to Yemen. I hear it's warm there. And they have a lot of sand. I like sand; as long as it's not in a plastic baggie.

Dumb ideas gone horribly awry...

I'm in LA this weekend visiting my friend, Ameet. Needless to say, the adventure has been a lovely and well-needed reprieve from the banality of Orange County.

However, upon further reflection, I've realized that Ameet and I come up with horrible ideas. And by "Ameet and I," I mean Stephen dragging Ameet along in blissful compliance.

Anyway, I came up with an exciting series of ideas yesterday. I arrived in LA at approximately 12:30pm; after I unloaded my crap at Ameet's place, we decided lunch was in order. What was I craving? What did I ultimately choose?

Taco Bell.

I ate two burritos, cinnamon twists, and a Dr. Pepper. Tast-y. Dump about a pound of taco bell mild sauce on everything and you have exquisite dining. Well, I didn't dump it on the cinnamon twists. I seriously doubt that would taste right on any level.

At that point, everything was fine. To Wong Foo was blaring in the background (and I mean BLARING; for whatever reason we had the volume set at a hideous high) and we were thoroughly entertained.

Then came the next brilliant idea.

"We should make 4-layer dip* and eat it for dinner!"

*4-layer dip is the picky man's version of 7-layer dip. It involves refried beans, Atun (which is sour cream and taco seasoning mixed together; my former boss, Amanda, and I decided to name it "atun" after tuna in Spanish... drunken nomenclature at its finest), salsa, and shredded cheese (we went for the Mexican mix... plain old cheddar just won't do).

After a considerably short debate, we concluded that there was no better option for a meal. We quickly went to the store and bought the ingredients. Upon our return to the apartment, we went to work on our masterpiece. An hour and half later, the two of us had succeeded in eating 1/2 of the dip. By the end of the night, the dip was gone (thanks to Kenny).

Throw several bottles of wine into the mix and you have the recipe for a disastrous night on the John. I felt like my stomach was angrily clawing its way out my butt. I can sympathize with the man in "Alien" when the alien baby bursts out of his belly. Nobody should experience such pain: alien baby, diarrhea, or otherwise.

Lesson learned, folks: if you ever think to eat a substantial amount of imitation Mexican food and pair it with Chardonnay, you will be in for a brash assault on your GI tract. Your body doesn't deserve it and neither do you.

Learn from my mistakes. Thank you for your time.

A Letter of Complaint

Dear God,

Hello! How have you been? I imagine things are quite busy with the universe being under your control and all. No small task, but you seem to be handling it (in whatever capacity that means).

Now you know I'm not one to complain. I try to go through life as best I can and take the hits as they come. I've dealt with all of the rejection and discouragement this year. It hasn't been easy but I seem to be persevering.

However, today I come to you with a complaint. I don't expect answers or some form of reprieve. I won't lie and say that I'm not holding out a modicum of hope. I only do so because I fear that if I let go of that sliver of hope, I won't be able to get it back.

24 1/2 years of life. 24 1/2 years of struggle, growth, and change. There have been some amazing times. There have also been some unbelievably crappy times (yeah, this whole "gay" thing has been quite the experience). Through it all, I'm still here; I wouldn't change my life because the specific set of events and circumstances have made me the person I am now. I think I've become quite the thoughtful, upstanding young man. I'm not perfect, but I acknowledge that for what it is and realize that my imperfections contribute to my quality of character.

My complaint is as follows: I am tired of being alone. I'm upset that I've never had the opportunity to experience love (a love that is not platonic, that is). I know that I potentially have an entire lifetime ahead of me in which to experience this kind of love. But sometimes I worry that I won't, mainly because I haven't had a glimpse at the potential.

In 24 1/2 years, I have experienced only one kind of love that is beyond torturous: a love unrequited. It tears at your soul, slowly withering your esteem to nothing. Feeling like someone means the world to you and not receiving even the slightest reciprocation in that regard. They say that no one can make you feel worthless unless you let them. With unrequited love, the other person is not the one making you feel worthless; it is the love itself that strikes you down. Love in my heart without its companion in another's heart cannot thrive. It atrophies and takes a bit of my heart with it each time.

If at all possible, could you maybe provide some glimmer of hope? I know it's a long shot; I know that things don't work that way. I just fear that my already-hardened heart will become completely still. Because I can't hold on forever.

Not everyone in life is meant to love. Some people spend their lives alone; and that is okay. Is that what you have intended for my life? I don't feel like I'm the type of person who is supposed to end up alone. I have a lot of love to give and a lot of amazing qualities to share. I am ready to give the world to somebody else; I'm afraid that this "somebody else" does not exist.

What happens when a heart closes its doors? Does the burden I am now experiencing dissipate? Will that allow me to be free? If so, that would be an equally welcomed solution.

I know this doesn't make sense. I know that I am fine on my own. I have managed to prove that I can be on my own. However, I am now at the point where I no longer wish to be.

Thanks for listening,
Stephen

My Favorite Poem

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

I am so damn pensive!

Okay, so I'm already messing up with this taking-a-new-picture-every-day thing. This picture was taken early on this year; I love it and have decided it is worthy of being the picture of the day.

I chose this picture for two reasons:

1) I think it's a pretty damn good picture and I'm proud that I captured the moment.
2) It represents a space in which I find tranquility.

I emphasize tranquility today because I have not had it since I moved home. I constantly feel on edge; starting from scratch, while adventurous and somewhat courageous, is not so glamorous. It's difficult; a constant struggle. I'm trying to find some peace in my career path, my friendships, and the other facets of my life. I'm feeling more comfortable with my job situation now that I have secured a full-time job that seems quite enjoyable. I'm also content to let my career plans move slowly right now; I need to invest the time in order to ensure that I make the best choice possible.

I guess where I am struggling most is in my friendships. Not in the friendships I already have, mind you; while yes, it has been a struggle to adjust to my dearest friends all being far away from me, I feel that I'm finally beginning to get a grasp on keeping up communication. The area in which I am struggling is developing local friendships.

I suppose I'm trying too hard. How do people make new friends when they move to a new job, to a new space that isn't conducive to friendships like the university environment is? Where do people find connection, a sense of belonging? I've been trying, I really have been; although, I am probably looking in the wrong places. I keep trying to connect with gay men. This is a bad decision on many levels: I can't expect to develop friendships with gay men knowing that sex is always in the back of my mind, and I really don't think that being gay is a point of connection. It does allow for a certain level of sympathy and acknowledgement of my experiences, but what happens when that's the only thing we have in common?

I miss everyone. I miss being able to sit with friends in comfortable silence. I miss being able to look across the room, make eye contact with one of my closest friends, and have them know exactly what I'm thinking. I miss the comfort of knowing that I'm not being judged, that I'm not being appraised to see if a friendship can work, that I can just be me without repercussions.

Maybe I'm hoping for too much too soon from the people I'm meeting now. I have to remember that building strong bonds takes time; that I can't just expect to find kindred spirits with ease.

Anyway, all that to say that I'm afraid. I'm afraid of putting myself out there and being rejected. I'm afraid that who I am won't be good enough. And I'm especially afraid that I won't be able to zone out those thoughts when they are impeding my progress in getting to know people.

I'm afraid that my insecurities are coming back tenfold and that they are going to stifle the potential.

Where did the confident and boisterous Stephen go? Why is the Stephen of so many years ago coming back and why is he coming back with such appalling swiftness?

I need to find my sunset. Tranquility.

Picture of the Day #1

So my first "picture of the day" just flat-out sucks. My shoes? Really?

Really. They got me thinking about the absurdity of my wardrobe. I have 27 pairs of shoes. I understand that women have many more than that. I understand that men often times have many less. I like the number of shoes I have and specifically selected each pair for various reasons. I'm not ashamed of my shoes, damn it.

However, I am ashamed of my sartorial apathy as of late. Despite the fact that I have 27 pairs of shoes, the majority of them being casual in nature, I wear one pair of shoes 95% of the time. One pair. The rest consume all of the storage space below my bed (and even the floor space of my closet), slowly finding themselves buried by dust and neglect.

I just can't help it though. The Sperry Top-Siders are so comfortable. And so cute and sporty (in the WASPy "I ride on my yacht during the weekends on my way to the Cape" sporty way). They encapsulate my fashion phase at the moment. Or at least my fashion state of mind; I LOVE LOVE LOVE the nautical look. Except the only nautical attire I own are the top-siders... and a pair of white linen pants that I am scared to wear for fear of tarnishing them with food (or vomit... I've done it before, don't ask) or being mocked mercilessly for my WASPy ensemble. Not that I care what people think; I'm too self-absorbed to notice other people anyway. (that's from a movie; I'm really not that big of a bitch)

All that to say: the boat shoes are my shoe. I wore them as a child, I wear them now, and I will wear them on my yacht in the Mediterranean in the future. Like any good fashion-staple, I will ride these shoes until they die.

Thank you, Sperry, for making my feet look so gay. Gay as in happy. And gay as in, "yes I do like boys! How could you tell? Oh, ha ha, of COURSE! BOAT SHOES!! OMG!" (but NO THANK YOU for turning my socks blue).

Just turn the damn thing off

I think way too much.

The end

The Conundrum of Pain

What is pain? And why do we feel it?

The answer to why we have physical pain is logical; it indicates when our bodies have experienced some sort of trauma that needs to be addressed. It's an alarm system for the physical being.

But emotional pain? That one is an elusive mofo. After careful thought and consideration (read: 3 minutes of quick brainstorming) I've come up with a crap-shoot explanation. I will call it the Opposites Model.

*DISCLAIMER: I'm fairly certain someone has already thought of this and has articulated it in much better terms. But for the sake of this being my blog, I'm going to spew*

Emotions operate in a relational space. The way we gauge our emotions is by qualifying them in relation to other emotions. Examples: "I've never felt pain like this before", "I'm happier now than I was a week ago", blah blah blah. While these examples are simplistic (forgive me, it's 1:30 in the morning), they demonstrate precisely the comparative aspect of our emotions. On a basic level, we do decipher between all of the emotions: happy, sad, angry, hurt, embarrassed, etc. But in order to really get to the crux of the emotions we are feeling, we describe them, we relate them.

All of that leads to my explanation of emotional pain (again, haphazard theory coming). I believe that we feel pain because it makes us appreciate joy more than we would ever appreciate it if it was the only thing we felt. How can anyone know extreme joy without knowing what extreme pain is? Of course you can experience joy independent of knowing pain. But I don't believe that anyone can really grasp what it is to be truly happy and joyful until they know what it's like to be extremely unhappy and in pain. We need the opposing emotion in order to comprehend and accept the positive emotion; to make our awareness and definition of our emotions more acute. There you have it: the opposites model. Pain and sadness are pesky cogs in the system that make our emotional beings whole.

In our society, we shy away from pain and discomfort. We always want to be happy and positive; I think that is one of the biggest mistakes for a society to make. We need the good and the bad in order to be complete. Because, no matter how hard we try, the bad will always be there; if we choose to ignore it, we will be worse off because of it.

This is a lot of rambling. I guess the point of my word-vomit is this: regardless of why we have pain, we need to hold onto it. Let it happen and honestly let it soak in. We all know that the pain doesn't last forever, just as joy doesn't go on indefinitely. By embracing our emotions, we are being true to ourselves. And doing so will make us the best people we can possibly be. We grow in response to what we have felt.

Okay, silly time! I bet you can't guess where the SECOND abscess I have had this month is plaguing me! I'll give you a hint: it's one of the LAST places you want a fucking painful sub-dermal infection.

Happy guessing, everyone!

Run of the Mill

Today is Thursday. (You can thank me later for this life-altering declaration)

I feel like I need to make some drastic changes in my life. Not for the sake of change; rather, to have something exciting to write in a blog.

My days are mundane; I wake up, go to work, eat, go home, sit around thinking about all of the things I should be getting done but don't, then go to bed far later than I should.

Lately I've been meeting a lot of guys; some admittedly better than others. I always feel like my desire to no longer be alone clouds the meetings and their potential for friendships. Logically, I know that nothing significant can be built or felt until a foundation is set; a friendship needs to be forged to get anywhere "real." As a result, I struggle balancing my attraction, my desire to be coupled, and the necessity of a non-loaded friendship first.

I hate the pretense of meeting a guy: the immediate need to assess whether something romantic might come out of the encounter. As much as I hate it, I buy into it every time. That's not to say I haven't made progress in holding off on an emotional response. I'm already selective as hell when it comes to the men I like, so it's not like I fall for everyone I meet. On the contrary, it happens so rarely that I cling to those for whom I feel anything remotely resembling a connection. I'm slowly learning to guard my heart a little better than that. Taking a meeting as nothing more than an encounter with a potential new friend. Not reading into every flirtation or getting my hopes up. This seems to be the way to protect myself.

My friend Mike is correct: I need to take a rest. I can't keep falling flat on my face. I want to hope that everything will just happen as it does; that I will meet someone without trying to, that it will be fantastic, and that for once I will actually know and see it for what it is when it happens.

So here's to intended isolation. To taking life as it comes while making the most of it. To progress.

Blog = Forum for examination of social behavior

I've decided that part of my blogging experience will involve the synthesis of a "picture of the day."

"Where will this picture come from each day?" you may be asking. Well, I'll tell you! Calm the fuck down!

In an effort to become accustomed to using my camera more often, I am going to force myself to take the picture of the day as opposed to finding it somewhere online. Maybe my photography will improve. Maybe it will fall to pieces. Or MAYBE I will capture an impactful and important moment in history. I'm hoping for the first.

I probably shouldn't have laid out the plans before having captured my first "picture of the day", but I'm still in the development stage of this project. We'll start tomorrow.

Not that anyone knows this exists. Maybe I should start there first.

The joy and pain of expressive writing

I'm not quite sure why I decided to start this. I consistently fail to maintain blogs; I believe I have had 3 or 4 in the past, all left to whither and die of neglect. As the saying goes: "Third time's the charm!"

Oh fuck, so much for that.

Often times, people use blogs as forums for emotional discharge. I suppose on some level the desire to emotionally purge from time to time has prompted the creation of this one as well. I figure it's better to articulate my thoughts to an imagined audience than to continue whining at my dog. Let alone the fact that he is an animal incapable of complex thought-processing: he can't hear a word I'm saying anyway (with old age comes hearing-loss, apparently.)

So why here? Why now?

I'd like to say this was sparked by some pivotal/poignant moment in my life. Perhaps the demarcation between a blissfully unaware young boy and the startling cynicism of a man hardened by his experiences.

No no. I'm just bored at work. And boredom, as we all know, is the seed of all new endeavors. At least dumb, poorly planned endeavors.

In fact, I'm so bored that I'm just going to go home now and spare myself the agony of another hour staring at the desk woodgrain. To be continued later...