choice paralysis

...to the show that never ends. We're so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside.

Friends-only'd! Thanks for playing, everyone else. You can comment here to be added to the friendslist if you so desire.

Catch you on the flipside, or, as it were, the friendside. (Wow. That was a terrible joke-type thing.)

Go ahead as you waste your days with thinking
When you fall everyone sins
Another day and you've had your fill of sinking
With the life held in your
Hands are shaking cold
These hands are meant to hold

Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through
Move along
Move along

So a day when you've lost yourself completely
Could be a night when your life ends
Such a heart that will lead you to deceiving
All the pain held in your
Hands are shaking cold
Your hands are mine to hold

Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through
Move along
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)

When everything is wrong we move along
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)
When everything is wrong, we move along
Along, along, along

When all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through

When all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through

When all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through

(Move along)
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)
Right back what is wrong
We move along

Lyrics copyright © All-American Rejects. Used for educational purposes only. All rights reserved.

Also in the stew: MyDeathSpace and the last chunk of "I Am Not Myself These Days," which is now required reading for everyone on my friends list.

[The best way to get a song disloged is to pass along the misery...or so I have heard.]

Go on and close the curtains
cause all we need is candle light
You and me and a bottle of wine
going to hold you tonight
Well we know I'm going away
and how I wish, I wish it weren't so
So take this wine and drink with me
let's delay our misery

Save tonight
and fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
tomorrow I'll be gone

Save tonight
and fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
tomorrow I'll be gone

There's a log on the fire
and it burns like me for you
Tomorrow comes with one desire
to take me away it's true
It ain't easy to say goodbye
darling please don't start to cry
Cause girl you know I've got to go, oh
Lord I wish it wasn't so

Save tonight
and fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
tomorrow I'll be gone

Save tonight
and fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
tomorrow I'll be gone

Tomorrow comes to take me away
I wish that I, that I could stay
Girl you know I've got to go, oh
Lord I wish it wasn't so

Save tonight
and fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
tomorrow I'll be gone

Save tonight
and fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
tomorrow I'll be gone

Save tonight
and fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
tomorrow I'll be gone

Save tonight
and fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
tomorrow I'll be gone
tomorrow I'll be gone
tomorrow I'll be gone
tomorrow I'll be gone
tomorrow I'll be gone

Save tonight
Save tonight
Save tonight
Save tonight

Lyrics copyright © Eagle-Eye Cherry. Used for educational purposes only. All rights reserved.

I scanned the list again today and realized a few of these things had happened some time ago. Apparently I should update my progress more than once every three months. Here’s the latest round of accomplishments.

5. Turn my 'spare room' into a legitimate walk-in closet now that I've moved the bed into the living room. July 1, 2006
Handled more than completed. I moved out of that apartment, thus solving one problem and creating another, which is that now I have virtually no closet space. It’s sort of appalling, but I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to make it work. I’ve got some ideas, so we’ll see. For the time being, I’m checking this one off as no longer applicable.

15. Return all the things I have that don’t belong to me to their rightful owners. May 15, 2006
With the belated return of a DVD and a tote bag full of epsom salt, I have (as far as I know) completed this task.

30. Participate in a local cultural event, like First Fridays. May 5, 2006
It was an interesting trip through downtown at May’s First Fridays event. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Perhaps I’ll go back this Friday, as I am off work that night.

32. Give the Ab Attack class at the gym a shot. April 2006
Not sure of an exact date, but it was sometime after the last status update. I went several times in April and had an excellent time, though the class has a tendency to wear me the fuck out. One evening after class, my legs had turned to jelly and I collapsed into my car. Weird, but effective, though the efficacy is likely diminished by the fact that I haven’t been to the gym in roughly two months. I fully intend to get back on the horse, as it were, come August, when I can get back in for free.

39. Teach Megan to swim. May 22, 2006
Megan took to the water without incident on a hawt afternoon in May. Though she has yet to master the advanced skills of certain underwater SWAT teams, her progress has rivaled that of my previous star swimming student Young Jeffy.

48. Read for fun again. Perhaps 13 books in 52 weeks is a reasonable endeavor? June 2006
As evidence, I give you Possible Side Effects by Augusten Burroughs, S is for Silence by Sue Grafton, Twelve Sharp by Janet Evanovich, and my heavy lifting for the summer, Atlas Shrugged.

76. Clean all the receipts and shit out of my wallet. June 2, 2006
I did this one day at work when the pile became untenable. Now there is almost nothing left in my wallet, money or otherwise, but that’s probably as it should be (or, at least, will be).

83. Decide on a career path/goal. July 1, 2006
I’ve made tentative plans to pursue an MA in Media Studies from the good people at UTexas-Austin. As for what I intend to do with that piece of paper once I get it, your guess is as good as mine.

95. Attend a university theater production. Late April 2006
I saw parts of both nights of UNA’s one-acts this spring. It was an experience. I’ll be back for more.

96. Choose one of my double-minors to be my double-major instead. July 1, 2006
If I do this, I’ll be making RTF my second minor. The other minor is journalism, which I seem to be reverse-engineering into a minor by way of having edited the newspaper for the last few years.

99. Get a radio and/or passenger door handle for the car. May 28, 2006
My parents hooked me up with a radio for my birthday. It’s delightful. I named it Percy, as you may recall.

What a world, what a world.

There are reasons why I take my summers off from school. I sometimes have occasion to remember what they are through no effort or fault of my own. Like when someone in the library is having a meltdown about the relentlessly demanding workload cramming a semester’s worth of readings and assignments into four weeks inevitably creates.

Today, though, the library is for the most part quiet. It’s a sort of calm between two stormy summer terms. I could probably do well in summer classes. I might even like them. But why would I want to take them?

I’m putting myself through school, for one thing, and summer classes are somehow more expensive than regular term classes. By the time May rolls around, I’ve just finished a bitch of a spring semester and am ready to wring the neck of the nearest person who dares speak to me of academia.

In the case of this year, I am also working quite a bit, adhering to a schedule that would make any educational pursuits inconvenient. I have managed to cobble together two minimum-wage jobs this summer, at which I average roughly 60 hours a week. And that I can handle.

Customer service work is so ingrained in my DNA that I could likely be run over by a semi and stumble into work with roughly the same set of skills. Hangovers of various types may make the mornings unpleasant, but they are nothing I can’t get through. A chill job is so much less mentally taxing than two to four hours’ worth of classes each day would be - there’s really no comparing them.

On top of all of that, I’ve spent at least the last month in the process of moving to a new apartment two blocks from my old one. Given the nature of my schedule these days, most of this process occurred between the hours of 12 and 4 a.m. A cast of character witnesses will vouch for my freakishly low threshold for amount of sleep required to function the next day, but even I was no match for this grueling process, conducted mostly by hand for want of a vehicle large enough to ferry my belongings down the street.

My family is headed to Austin for the holiday weekend, and I am left behind. I’m working 27 hours today and Sunday. I’ll also be working Monday night and most of Tuesday. Classes, were I taking them, would resume Wednesday, much to my hypothetical dismay. I should throw in that just because we’re moved in to the new apartment doesn’t mean anything tertiary has been unpacked. There’s still plenty of work to be done on that front.

All in all, an interesting week, which included a brief exploration of career opportunities in library sciences. Glaargle!

I leave you with a thought to ponder: “The years were short but the days were long.”

In no particular order (TM Claude)

Lumpy milk

Sixteen-hour workdays

Twenty-seven hour work weekends

Having no money ANYWAY and being broke all the time

Compass Bank and its stupid damn NSF fees and spiral of unending debt

The broken shock on my car

The filth of my kitchen floor

The fact that I haven’t finished moving all my shit yet, even though it’s two blocks up the road and I’ve been working on it for nearly a month

Facebook’s vastly limited search capabilities re: stalking crushes via the Internet with nothing to go on but what they look like

The Sha-Mexican (TM Megan) debit card system by which one of my jobs endeavors to pay me, but not my other coworkers

Broken or insufficient air conditioning capabilities

My inability/lack of desire to write things these days

The assless

Ugly Kleenex boxes

Non-English-speaking people trying to fake their way through interactions with me at work by answering yes to every question they are asked, contradicting themselves in the process. Let me know if you don’t understand and I’ll do what I can to help you.

People who try to get some of their crazy on me

Blue locks

That, while Aldi is still awesome in most every way, their prices have gone up since the last time I was in one several years ago

Morning-after beer breath

Landlords who start sawing floor tile at the crack of dawn when each and every one of the current tenants is -- wait, was -- asleep. Not only could I not get back to sleep, my fillings hurt from the shrill piercing saw sounds.

HBO elitism

Mayo AND mustard - pick one or the other!

Questionable new oven/stove

Unpleasant lingering odor left behind by previous tenants of apartment

Ugly old posters disguised as art

Label art on cans of mixed veggies

Stupid shamnable MS Word spell check

Lack of judgment where smokers are concerned

Those who prey on the weak

Wolves disguised as sheep

Some of my awesome favorite CDs won’t play anymore

Lack of fangoriously attractive landlord at new apartment

Those who, though perfectly literate, fail to read or obey posted signage

The frame of my bed, on which I ofttimes stub one or more toes

The sticky and pervasive coating that covers one shelf of the really long, really awesome bookcase left behind in my new bedroom

The price of and eventual crash associated with the consumption of Full Throttle

Getting gypped out of free gum promotions

When I don’t hear/notice my cell phone’s buzz/ring

Cagey customer service people at the phone company

I am almost always hungry

Inability to dislodge certain awesome songs from playing incessantly on Cortex FM

When it rains and I’m wearing flip-flops or Crocs, which is almost anytime it rains in the summer

I’ll never be in my grandmother’s house again. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to it.

Beer cans are cheaper than beer bottles. I like something about the bottles that I can’t quite quantify. Perhaps it’s the phallic nature of the packaging.

Burning bridges

That I never stuck with learning how to play the guitar

I am rudderless, careerwise, which won’t be a problem for another two years, but which bothers me nonetheless

People who are incapable of following simple instructions

I want a dog and don’t have one (and don’t really need one).

A certain condescending smirk I’ve learned to appreciate in customer service

All in all, I’ve got it pretty good, though this list would seem to indicate otherwise. Some days it’s just fun to bitch, though.

Tags: lists

One day I'll learn not to do things just because the cool Cali kids are doing them. That is how I ended up saddled with this incurable love for Passions, after all. Since that day is obviously not today, I thought you should know that...

I have done 98 of these 158 things

[1] I have read a lot of books.
[ ] I have been on some sort of varsity team.
[ ] I have run more than two miles without stopping.
[ ] I have been to Canada.
[ ] I have been to Europe.
[2] I have watched cartoons for hours. ("Five hours of summer, one a week"...anyone?)
[3] I have tripped UP the stairs.
[ ] I have fallen down an entire flight of stairs.
[4] I have been snowboarding/skiing.
[5] I have played ping pong.
[6] I swam in the ocean.
[ ] I have been on a whale watch.
[7] I have seen fireworks.
[8] I have seen a shooting star.
[9] I have seen a meteor shower.
[10] I have almost drowned.
[11] I have been so embarrassed I wanted to disappear.
[12] I have listened to one CD over and over and over again.
[13] I have had stitches.
[ ] I have had frostbite.
[ ] I have licked a frozen pole and got stuck there.
[14] I have stayed up til 2 (and beyond) doing homework/projects.
[15] I have been ice skating.
[16] I have been rollerblading.
[17] I have fallen flat on my face.
[18] I have tripped over my own two feet.
[ ] I have been in a fist fight.
[19] I have played videogames for more than three hours straight. (I really, really don't want to talk about it.)
[20] I have watched the Power Rangers.
[ ] I attend church regularly.
[21] I have played Truth or Dare.
[22] I have already had my 16th birthday.
[23] I have already had my 17th birthday.
[24] I've called someone stupid.
[25] I've been in a verbal argument.
[26] I've cried in school.
[27] I've played basketball on a team.
[28] I've played baseball on a team.
[ ] I've played football on a team.
[ ] I've played soccer on a team.
[ ] I've done cheerleading on a team.
[ ] I've played softball on a team.
[ ] I've played volleyball on a team.
[ ] I've played tennis on a team.
[ ] I've been on a track or cross country team.
[29] I've been swimming more than 20 times in my life.
[ ] I've bungee jumped.
[30] I've climbed a rock wall.
[31] I've lost more than $20 (in possession at one time)
[32] I've called myself an idiot.
[33] I've called someone else an idiot.
[34] I've cried myself to sleep.
[35] I've had (or have) pets.
[ ] I've owned a Spice Girls CD/cassette.
[ ] I've owned a Britney Spears CD.
[ ] I've owned an N*Sync CD.
[ ] I've owned a Backstreet Boys CD.
[36] I've mooned someone.
[ ] I have sworn/yelled at someone of authority before.
[37] I've been in the newspaper.
[38] I've been on TV.
[ ] I've been to Hawaii.
[ ] I've eaten sushi.
[39] I've been on the other side of a waterfall.
[ ] I've watched all of the Lord of the Rings movies.
[ ] I've watched all the Harry Potter movies.
[ ] I've watched all of the Rocky movies.
[40] I've watched the Three Stooges.
[41] I've watched "Newlyweds."
[42] I've watched Looney Tunes.
[ ] I've been stuffed into a locker/I have stuffed others into lockers.
[43] I've been called a geek.
[44] I've studied hard for a test and got a bad grade.
[45] I've not studied at all for a test and aced it.
[ ] I've hugged my mom within the past 24 hours.
[ ] I've hugged my dad within the past 24 hours.
[46] I've met a celebrity/music artist. (And touched his ass!)
[47] I've written poetry.
[ ] I've been arrested.
[48] I've been attracted to someone much older than me.
[49] I've been tickled till I've cried.
[50] I've tickled someone else until they cried.
[51] I've had/have siblings.
[52] I've been to a rock concert.
[53] I've listened to classical music and enjoyed it.
[54] I've been in a play.
[ ] I've been picked last in gym class.
[ ] I've been picked first in gym class.
[55] I've been picked in that middle-range in gym class.
[56] I've cried in front of my friends.
[ ] I've read a book longer than 1,000 pages. (I got Atlas Shrugged for my birthday, though, so check back with me.)
[ ] I've played Halo 2.
[57] I've freaked out over a sports game.
[ ] I've been to Alaska.
[ ] I've been to China.
[ ] I've been to Spain.
[ ] I've been to Japan.
[58] I've had a fight with someone on AIM/MSN.
[59] I've had a fight with someone face-to-face.
[60] I've had serious conversations on any IM.
[61] I've forgiven someone who has done something wrong to me.
[62] I've been forgiven.
[63] I've screamed at a scary movie. (If Eight Below counts as a scary movie.)
[64] I've cried at a chick flick.
[ ] I've watched a lot of action movies.
[65] I've screamed at the top of my lungs.
[ ] I've been to a rap concert.
[ ] I've been to a hip hop concert.
[67] I've lived in more than 2 houses.
[68] I've driven on the highway/been on the highway.
[69] I've driven more than 40 miles in a day/been in a car that went more than 40 miles in a day. (These people must not get out much, or have cars, apparently.)
[ ] I've been in a car accident.
[70] I've done drugs.
[71] I've been homesick.
[72] I've thrown up.
[ ] I've thrown up on someone.
[73] I've been horseback riding.
[ ] I've filled out more than 10 MySpace/LJ surveys.
[74] I've spoken my mind in public.
[75] I've proven someone wrong.
[76] I've been proven wrong by someone.
[ ] I've broken a leg.
[ ] I've broken an arm.
[77] I've fallen off a swing.
[78] I've swung on a swing for more than 30 minutes straight.
[79] I've watched Winnie the Pooh movies.
[ ] I've forgotten my backpack when I've gone to school.
[ ] I've lost my backpack.
[80] I've come close to dying.
[ ] I've seen someone die.
[81] I've known someone who has died.
[82] I've wanted to be an actor/actress at some point.
[ ] I've done modeling.
[83] I've forgotten to brush my teeth some mornings.
[84] I've taken something/someone for granted.
[85] I've realized how good my life is.
[86] I've counted my blessings.
[87] I've made fun of a classmate.
[88] I've been asked out by someone and I said no.
[89] I've slapped someone in the face.
[90] I've been skateboarding.
[91] I've been backstabbed by someone I thought was a friend.
[92] I've lied to someone to their face.
[93] I've told a little white lie.
[94] I've taken a day off from school just so I don't go insane.
[95] I've fainted.
[ ] I've had an argument with someone about whether cheerleading is a sport or not.
[96] I've pushed someone into a pool.
[97] I've been pushed into a pool.
[98] I've been/am in love.

I will say that liquor tastes less dangerously sexy/exciting on this side of 21. That said, here's where the chips fell after my birthday this weekend.

The Un-Shit List
Megan
The GK
Rachel
Vaginaback
Laura, late of work
My mother
My sister
My grandmother
Li'l Steve's
Richie, late of work
All the Facebook/MySpace well-wishers
Paul Walker & Sarah Silverman

The Shit List
The Smokehouse
Bright Eyes
L.D.
Sandi
Wal-Mart
All thems bitchy customers
UNA Public Safety

All in all, a good birthday. Those of you who failed to acknowledge it can redeem yourselves by buying me a drink sometime.

I. December 26, 2005

A belated Christmas dinner with the fam. If turkey and the works were a presence at the Patrents' that holiday season, no traces remained. The menu was shrimp and Alaskan salmon, which my father had caught on a recent trip outside the lower 48. It had been too long since I'd been home – almost a year, I think. It seems unbelievable now, as I've made at least a dozen trips to the house in the last five months. The prodigal son had returned, finally having learned those cliché-riddled lessons about the importance of family and the fact that there’s no place like home. In keeping with a family tradition of ridiculous antics at the dinner table, the glass of eggnog my brother poured for me came out in lumps. "It's lumpy," I observed. "Your face is lumpy," replied my sister.

II. January 5, 2006

I was awkward, as I tend to be in such situations. The 'line' I used, if it can be called that, will go down in history as one of the worst ever. It didn’t matter, though, because that night the stars aligned. There was a hug, and a few blocks later, there was a fantastic kiss. His lips were magic. A kiss is just a kiss, of course, but the universe has a way of making sure that you get what you need.

III. January 21, 2006

Random spontaneous road trip. Those, after all, are the best kind. Nothing like a hotel room with a view of the arch. Said view went underappreciated the next morning when we notified our parents of our whereabouts, but by then it was beyond too late for them to do anything about it. We'll always cherish that Saturday night in the all-nude male strip club. Whilst the dickless wonders paraded around, twirling on poles and shaking their wholly unimpressive groove things, I lusted after the bartender. It would figure that he, the only attractive guy in the whole place, was also the only fully clothed employee. Meanwhile, a stripper's ass defiled Nutmeg as well as Bright Eyes while I looked on and laughed. "A filthy stripper rubbed his ass all over you guys! You're probably diseased now," I informed them through my giggling.

IV. January 22, 2006

On the way back from St. Louis, a homecoming of sorts. After nearly five years apart, Rachel and I were reunited. The best friend bond is one that can survive and thrive even when limited to regular e-mail and phone calls, but there's something electric about the face-to-face interaction, and you learn to cherish it when it happens so rarely. Rachel and I reconnected over Steak & Shake. For the benefit of our newcomers, we dusted off some old stories before regaling each other with new ones and playing "Where Are They Now?" with our high school classmates of yore. It was an afternoon, but inside of me it was a weeklong vacation, a recharge, a validation…the change of scenery and perspective I'd been craving. All was once again right with the world, except for what wasn't...and even that would get there eventually.

V. March 16, 2006

Our section is now boarding. The handsome, if older, flight attendant, makes a crack about my empty water bottle, which had so obviously contained my preflight vodka. It is not until my trip to the bathroom later in the flight that we hit it off. After my visit to the water closet, said flight attendant is lurking in the back of the plane with the beverage cart. He proceeds to chat me up. What are my plans? Where am I from? Where am I going? We are absorbed in conversation with one another for the better part of ten minutes. It doesn't read like much of anything now, but it was a moment. I am the worst person in the world at small talk; it wasn't that. It was a real, actual thing, a legitimate interaction. It was a connection I needed on that day, at that point in my life. You get what you need.

VI. May 28, 2006

Due to the potential for scheduling conflicts on the actual date (and the likelihood I'll be boozing it up somewhere for my 21st this weekend), my birthday came a week early to the Patrents' house. There were gifts, the best of which was my spankin' new car stereo, Percy. Percy and I got along right from the start. Percy is very shiny, you see. My sister got me a DVD, as did my brothers. My sister also baked me a delicious cake shaped like an ice cream sundae. It was the best family birthday celebration ever. The dinner menu was a delicious combination of shrimp and salmon. The dinnertime conversation that night revolved around my brothers, who have apparently taken to sitting in the road in the subdivision. My sister was giving them hell. "Why were you sitting the road?" she demanded. "Why were you sitting on the porch?" Older shot back. "I was sitting on the porch in a chair," Crash responded. "Chairs were made for sitting on." It was Younger who got in the last word as I bit into a shrimp: "Your face was made for sitting on."

I can't tell you where I'm going, I'm not sure of where I've been
But I know I must keep travelin' 'til my road comes to an end
I'm out here on my journey trying to make the most of it
I'm a puzzle; I must figure out where all my pieces fit

Like a poor, wayfaring stranger that they speak about in song
I'm just a weary pilgrim trying to find what feels like home
Where that is no one can tell me; Am I doomed to ever roam?

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin'
I'm just travelin' on

Questions I have many; answers, but a few
We're here to learn, the spirit burns to know the greater truth
We've all been crucified and they nailed Jesus to the tree
And when I'm born again you're going to see a change in me

God made me for a reason and nothing is in vain
Redemption comes in many shades with many kinds of pain
Sweet Jesus, if you're listening, keep me ever close to you
As I'm stumbling, tumbling, wandering
As I'm travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin'
I'm just travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin'
I'm just travelin' thru

Sometimes the road is rugged and it's hard to travel on
But holding to each other, we don't have to walk alone
When everything is broken, we can mend it if we try
We can make a world of difference
If we want to, we can fly

Goodbye little children, goodnight you handsome men
Farewell to all you ladies and to all who knew me when
And I hope I see you down the road
You meant more than I knew
As I was travelin', travelin', travelin', travelin'
Travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin'
I'm just travelin'

Drifting like a floating boat and roaming like the wind
Oh, give me some direction, Lord, let me lean on you
As I'm travelin', travelin', travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin'
I'm just travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin'
I'm just travelin' thru

Like the poor, wayfaring stranger that they speak about in song
I'm just a weary pilgrim trying to find my own way home
Oh, sweet Jesus, if you're out there, keep me ever close to you
As I'm travelin', travelin', travelin'
As I'm travelin' thru

Lyrics Copyright © 2005 Dolly Parton. Used for educational purposes only.

Upfront season
If you're as big a TV dork as I am (and odds are you probably aren't), you know what's happening next week. The upfronts, the annual events at which networks present their fall schedules to advertisers, are fast approaching. On Monday, the schedules will start rolling out, and this thing is most definitely a soap opera in its own right. There are many interesting facets of this year's experience; so much about the industry has changed or is changing, but what in life isn't?

Of course, by next Thursday, barring some unforeseen development, the whole thing will be over and pilot season will begin anew for next year, leaving the viewers to make what they will of the fall season four months from now.

So I guess what I'm saying is if you want to know the fate of your favorite show (or pilot, even), ask me next week and I'll be happy to tell you. The suspicious grin with which I answer you will communicate a certain level of amusement at the behind-the-scenes drama of it all, which I apparently revel in. If any one thing makes this week better than Passions, it's the fact that it only comes once a year.

Sugar, and maybe flour
For someone contemplating eliminating sugar from my diet, I seem to be eating an alarming amount of licorice these days. Another interesting proposition in all of this is the potential giving-up of white flour, which is apparently the devil. Those white powdery substances are nothing but trouble, I tell you.

Harmonica-larious
No one appreciates a good harmonica these days. Also, as a child I had a wooden train whistle that I loved with a passion. I wonder now what interesting effects all my saliva had on that wooden whistle. I wonder if my parents still have it somewhere, in a box, perhaps, a box labeled "Things Slathered in Pat's Saliva." That might be a gross box, though.

"It takes me away to that special place..."
There are songs that make us who we are, I believe. There are songs that make me cry every time I hear them. The words, the music, and perhaps most importantly, the memory(/memories) I associate with them cast a spell over my soul. The transforming power of music is limitless, I think, and it's something that should be respected, and maybe even feared.

The years go on and
Musical memories are an equalizing experience. The sadness, the pain, the happiness, the excitement...all these things are things you share with those around you when you have a musical moment. The friends you went to that concert with, the first time someone heard your favorite song, the night you spent on the phone singing songs to and with one another – no matter what happens in between, you'll always have that. It's a way in which you're always inextricably connected to that person or those people. These shared parts of our past can hurt, of course, but they can also heal. Which would you focus on?

"...And if I stay too long I might just break down and cry"
Sitting at an intersection or running around the house picking up clothes or shampooing my hair in the shower or working on a paper for class or humming a few bars as I walk down the street or catching in-store music at just the right moment or half-listening to iTunes or Pandora or driving around or hearing someone's phone ring and I dissolve into tears or find myself overcome with an incredible peace and joy. That's what music can do, bitches.

Cross your fingers
I may have found the second part-time job I needed to get myself through this summer without going broke(r) or sponging off my parents too much. My second interview is coming up on Monday, so say a little prayer (or heathen equivalent). I've decided that this summer is going to totally rock, and this job would be a welcome addition to such plans.

Ghost town

As I walked across campus yesterday, the lack of human presence was noticeable. It being Dead Day, there were of course no classes in session. The coffee bar and the food court were closed, which was kind of freaky, because those establishments seem to always be open no matter what is happening elsewhere on campus. The bookstore was open, and they are setting up for buyback in the next few days. The mailroom was open, and of course, so was the library, where I spent the morning at work.

Even the library was slow yesterday, though. It's all very strange, like a portent of the weeks to come, the ritual abandonment of campus at semester's end. Granted, I don't think I've ever been around campus on Dead Day before (somehow), but yeah, we're all more or less leaving this place in a week and I guess visuals such as these help me adjust to that reality a little more readily.

This is, believe it or not, the most ex-free semester I've ever had at this school. We met in November of freshman year, so almost every interim, every break, every Dead Day, was spent going through a different daily routine, all couple-dy. And I certainly don't miss the subjugation and the subordination I found in that place in my life, but I do know enough to know the difference between this Dead Day and the ones that went before it. It's kind of like I don't know what to do now, like there's no precedent for what's happening to me.

As an adult-in-training, I find this to be the case on a regular basis, this whole uncharted territory, and it's been especially palpable this semester given all the changes in my life since last Christmas. I'm finally realizing, grasping, that my life is really my own again and that every day is mine to do with what I please. Little by little, I'm learning (and accepting) that for most of the areas of my life, I answer to no one but myself. It's liberating and also vaguely terrifying.

Books for sale

The damnable Off-Campus Bookstore refused to take back any of the crappy books it sold me, even the one I didn't actually need for the class. I never once cracked the cover of my comm. law text, and the one occasion on which I deigned to peruse the ethics text was an ill-fated attempt at not having to make conversation with someone. Anyway, they told me to try again at the end of next semester, because apparently these are spring-only courses. Whatev. I just want money, bitches. And as far as I'm concerned, a one-sided critical analysis of the sham-scam that is college bookstores is never trite.

[Last first-run episode of the season.]

File under: words you'll never see in TV Guide again. I'm finally feeling it, seven months later, the full impact of the stupidly resized magazine I used to keep close to the remote. No one who knows me well will have trouble believing that I indeed actually used to read the listings. Alas, they are no more. Nothing lasts forever, I suppose, but there are things you think you can count on to never change. Sigh.

Xtreme Makeover: O'Charley's Men's Room Edition

I adjourned to the restroom at lunch this afternoon. I went into a stall. There was one other person in the bathroom. That person left, and someone else came in. Through the gap between the stall door and the wall, I could see him looking around to see if anyone else was in the restroom. My legs were clearly visible under the door. Weird, I thought, until the next sound I heard was a drill. Apparently, this men's room is undergoing some plumbing repairs, or so the smell of pipe glue and the haphazardly strewn chunks of tile would suggest. I wanted to say something as I left the restroom, but I wasn't quite sure what I would say and I didn't expect him to hear me over the whir of his power tools. In a rude final touch, his toolbox was partially blocking access to the sink.

Summer reading

It's been so long since I've read a book for fun that sometimes I forget what that's like. I read most of Walden around Christmas and perused a few other titles, with varying degrees of success. But most of my free time during the semester is spent poring over required tomes or books designed to enhance my understanding of an academic subject. I started reading the latest Grafton, S is for Silence, yesterday. I also picked up Brandon Tartikoff's memoir today for $1 on the remainder table. There are many other titles I look forward to devouring in the weeks and months to come. This will be the summer of reading for pleasure, if I have anything to say about it.

Sugar, sugar

As part of my continued service to and care about my health, I'm toying with eliminating sugar from the diet. I don’t intend to be a sugar Nazi, as I will continue to accept natural sugars such as fruits, but these "sweeten to taste" fuckers may be shown the door yet.

Also, running. I've been mentally preparing myself for the possibility of running as exercise. Mentally is one of the few ways in which I have exercised in the last few weeks, what with my gym attendance dropping down to astounding new lows. It's time to get back on the wagon (of potential abs and hotness), which I think will necessitate a lot less alcohol and a lot more...something. Everyone I know who does it swears that running melts the pounds away and is a total body workout. Who am I to question the word of the young and the gutless, after all?

Our long national nightmare

For ten years, 7th Heaven has alternately tortured and amused my sister and me. Captivated by the awful writing, we have stared slack-jawed at ten atrocious seasons of one of the most consistently irritating dramas ever to hit the airwaves. Apparently, we weren't alone, as 7H has spent much or all of the decade at the top of the heap in the ratings for The soon-to-be-defunct WB. This Monday night, however, all that will come to an end as the series finale is broadcast, hypothetically freeing us from the bondage we have suffered at the hands of Brenda "Cookies" Hampton, the intolerable wretch responsible for unleashing the campy Camdens on us all. Rumors of the series' resurrection and an 11th season on new network The CW have been greatly exaggerated, thank unnamed deity. To give this shitty show its proper sendoff, we're gathering at my mom's this Monday night for a finale party. E-mail me for an invite. Or pity me for being so pathetically wrapped up in this train wreck of a family drama.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like, what it would feel like to be interested in girls. I wonder what it's like for straight guys. I'd imagine they feel the same things when they see a pretty girl that I feel when I see an attractive boy, but I think there probably some chemical differences. And I think the gay mental world is less restrictive in terms of possibility.

I read today on a blog an observation I'm sure has been made countless times before. Gay men (and lesbians, I guess) are the only population to grow up outside their subculture. What are the implications of this? Clearly, some people will choose to spend their entire lives outside of anything resembling a gay subculture or community. But what's the collateral damage – what are the scrapes and bruises associated with re-entering (well, entering is probably more apt here) this atmosphere? And what constitutes gay culture/subculture?

What does it mean to be gay? What are my responsibilities, social and otherwise?

There is a fairly popular argument that sexual orientation and its associated trappings are all social constructs and therefore don't exist on any latent level. I don’t know whether I believe that or not, but that's a discussion for another entry.

I suppose my own coming out experience(s) should provide some of the answers to these questions, but more and more in the last few months, I'm meeting people who are disenfranchised with the state of gay life, especially in this town, but in small to midsized towns across the country. We're fighting a notion held by the general population, and a certain amount of our own population, that gay life is or has to be all about sex. It's an area in which we deviate from the norm, circumvent the expected, make our own rules. But it's not the only area of our lives, and it's not the only area in which we can deviate from the norm, circumvent the expected, and make our own rules.

I read a book during the New York trip called The Soul Beneath the Skin. It laid out countless examples of the cultural anomaly gay men create in their circles and communities. From the near-inexistence of gay-on-gay violence at bars, clubs, and other establishments (especially when compared to straight-on-straight male violence in similar venues) to the cultures of care we create for one another – mentoring newbies, offering up shoulders with maximum tear-absorbing power, looking out for one another – gay male interaction (of the non-sexual variety, you pervs) is wildly different from straight male interaction and from the societal expectations and rigid gender roles men are expected to fill.

I'm not sure what all this means or where it's leading me. I know these are things I've been thinking about and I know that there's a lot in the world that could be better. Of course, such changes begin at home and there's no shortage of work to be done right here in my community. I do know that by looking at things in new ways, by accepting diverse points of view, we can accomplish great and wonderful things.

Dan Savage once ran a letter in his amusing and direct sex advice column Savage Love from a gay man who was similarly disenfranchised with the gay community where he lived. Dan's advice was simple: if you don't like the gay community you see, create one of your own.

There are other people out there like us, and if we build it, they will come. And if they don't, at least we'll have created something we like. It has been said that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I've also heard, though, that a journey of a thousand miles begins with no lunch, so choose your own adventure, I guess.

It's all about the pizza, baby!

P.S. "She's my best friend..."

Called to see if your back
Was still aligned and your sheets
Were growing grass all on the corners of your bed

But you've got too much to wear on your sleeves
It has too much to do with me
And secretly I want to bury in the yard
The grey remains of a friendship scarred

You told us of your new life there
You got someone comin' around
Gluing tinsel to your crown
He's got you talking pretty loud
You berate remember your ailing heart and your criminal eyes
You say you're still in love
If it's true what can be done
It's hard to leave all those moments behind

Called to see if your back
Was still aligned and your sheets
Were growing grass all on the corners of your bed

But you've got too much to wear on your sleeves
It has too much to do with me
And secretly I want to bury in the yard
The grey remains of a friendship scarred

You tested your metal of doe's skin and petals
While kissing the lipless
Who bleed all the sweetness away

You know the drill. These lyrics belong to The Shins, all rights reserved, educational purposes only.

My 101 in 1001 is off to a running start. The progress thus far:

7. Go back to the gym and stick with it. April 3, 2006
I went to the gym Monday afternoon, like what used to be normal. Then on Tuesday, I changed the routine. Now I'm getting up at 6 a.m. every day and getting to the gym by 6:15. It's great; I get to wake up on the bike, which is a good place to come around without having to worry about talking to people and making sense at that hour. The other great thing I'm doing is not eating after 7:30 p.m. I have resisted the urge to snack into the night. Who knew I had so much will power?

8. Phase water in; phase soft drinks out. April 4, 2006
Speaking of will power, I've had nothing to drink but milk in my cereal and water. Water is great and good. I've been drinking water all day, except for today, because I left my bottle at home after I filled it up on my way out the door this morning. Go me! And since I'm not eating at night anymore, I get a glass of water when I feel like I need something. My bladder is unimpressed with the increased water consumption, but the rest of me seems to be handling it just fine.

34. Read the newspaper every day instead of just picking up a free one in the morning, carrying it around in my bag all day, and tossing it. April 5, 2006
I've been picking a free TimesDaily up on my way out of the gym. I can read it over breakfast or after breakfast before I leave the house. It's better than picking it up on the way in to work, where I cannot read it. I suppose the next step is recycling the papers, but let's not get over-ambitious.

36. Rekindle my passion for television and all its goodness. April 2, 2006
I caught part one of The West Wing's election episode and was immediately sucked back in. Between that and my newfound love of Grey's Anatomy (thanks to Crash), things are going pretty well here. Plus, my wonderful mother bought me a fancy new high-powered TV antenna last weekend, so I've been watching stuff from the comfort of my very own bed, which is nice. I've been tending toward the Today show in the mornings when I get back from the gym, where I've already watched American Morning. So much TV. It's great.

42. Cross the threshold of the Lutheran church that is literally next door to Megan’s apartment and thusly a block and a half from me. April 5, 2006
Much of my objection to the Patrents' church home of the last several years is that it's a different flavor of Lutheran than the one I'd been accustomed to for the previous sixteen or so years. I've been missing the formality, the routine, the liturgy, the hymns -- it was great to experience all these things again Wednesday night at the last Lenten service of the season. Another thing this tiny chapel-sized church has over the Patrents'? An organ, with a real, live organist.

I've picked a good week to start back to church, it seems. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, and next week are Maunday Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter. It's a church-stravaganza!

61. Be less selfish. April 4, 2006
I blame the Oprah DVDs. She had an author on who encouraged people to keep a gratitude journal. She said that at the end of the day, you should write down five things you were grateful for that day -- specific things, interactions with people, not everyday stuff like "I am thankful for my car." Oprah said that when you go through the day actively looking for five things to be grateful for, it changes your worldview, your perspective. I've been looking for the good in things and people this week, toning down the cynicism. It's a happier place, I think. I've still got some work to do where being less selfish is concerned, but I'm off to a good start.

92. Finally watch Donnie Darko. April 7, 2006
During the stormy tornadic activity yesterday, I finally saw this movie in the company of three people who'd seen it before. I was quite impressed. This is definitely a favorite I'll be watching again.

Seven down, 94 to go.

I filed my 2005 income tax yesterday. I did the federal online for free because I’m poor and I scribbled the state return, so now all that stands between me and my $15 refund from this sorry state is a postage stamp.

I’ve never gotten money back from Alabama before. Last year, I had to mail them a check for $3, the bastards. I suppose it’s a testament to how little money I made in ’05 or something.

As I was clicking through the step-by-step on the federal return web site, it struck me that one’s income tax return is a terrible measure of the year of his life it represents.

In a society as materialistic as our own, it is not difficult to imagine that one’s income is a yardstick by which his worth is measured. The more money you make, after all, the more toys you can buy, and, at least according to a Christian dressing-down of the culture I once heard, he who dies with the most toys wins.

Said dressing-down then shifted gears, instructing its audience to reject the materialistic ways of this world and instead store up treasures in the next life. As a Christian object lesson, I found it to be solid. But as I have yet to determine my feelings about Christianity and its related precepts, I am searching here for a broader application.

It is the college student’s lot in life to get by on pennies, to be dirt broke. But as someone pointed out this week (I can’t remember who), it’s damn hard to go hungry in America even if you are poor.

Some combination of Thoreau and Maslov will inform you that our basic human needs are food, clothing, shelter and companionship. The rest is all window dressing.

I am so blessed in this life it is almost embarrassing. I have a roof over my head, heaps of food in my apartment, plenty of clothes, and a fantastic group of family and friends. I’ve got everything I need, regardless of what the advertising industry might tell me or sell me.

When I finished filling in my federal return, I printed a copy. Its direct, uncaring form analyzed my life by the numbers in 2005. But that piece of paper and the IRS employee who will process it have no way of knowing what really happened in my life that year, or any other year.

The lessons I learned, the experiences I lived through, the bad choices and the good ones, the scope of my human interaction, the many ways I grew and changed between Jan. 1 and Dec. 31 – none of it is reflected in this bottom-line worksheet.

I know no one at the IRS has any non-financial interest in my journey last year, and I know there won’t be a push to add an essay portion to the 1040 anytime soon. I’m just glad we have the ability to measure our existence in other, more resonant ways. Words, after all, tell a far more interesting story than do numbers.

She got out of town on the railway, New York bound
Took all except my name
Another alien on Broadway

New York City. LaGuardia. Four fabulous days, three nights in midtown Manhattan. Time to explore this "greatest city in the world." Time to learn about journalism, covering LGBT issues, yearbook design ideas. Time to reconnect with old friends and acquaintances. Time to walk at a reasonable clip. Thank God there is a city that walks as fast as I do.

Well, some things in this world you just can't change
Some things you can't see until it gets too late

Time to decompress. Time to deal. Time to face your fears, face the facts, face the realities. Time to unravel the snottangle of emotions and unresolved feelings that have been gathering steam, building into some kind of an explosion. Time to accept certain inalienable truths, time to play it forward, time to have some accountability and demand it from others. Time to live up to expectation – my expectations. Time to be rewarded for performance rather than potential.

I got a hole in me now
I got a scar I can talk about
She keeps a picture of me in her apartment in the city

Time heals all wounds. "Life barrels on like a runaway train." Time to find myself...wait, no. I've already done that. Time to reconnect with my former self, perhaps. Time to reconnect, at least, with everyone around me. Only connect, I preached not so long ago. It is definitely not time to wonder how my life might have turned out differently if I'd only followed my own advice that fall.

But some things in this world
Man, they don't make sense
Some things you don't leave until they leave you
And then the things that you miss, you say

Time to mourn. Time to do a little Kierkegaard-ian existing in the most painful of states: remembering the future. Time for individuality and acceptance. Time for favorites, interests, dislikes. Time to find a damn job. Time to pay the bills, at least in my head. Time to fall in love with reading once again. Time to crack my neck. Time to buy new pants. Time to eat a falafel in the Village and chase it with cupcakes.

Let that city take you in (come on home)
Let that city spit you out (come on home)
Let that city take you down, yeah
For god sakes turn around

Time to wait on line for the RENT lottery and lose. Time to buy tickets to Naked Boys Singing (= hilarious and spirited) instead. Time to remember the magic of Smirnoff. Time to re-learn all this 'getting up early' business. Time to wear a hoodie, because damn it's windy in New York City. Time to wear socks, to be sure. Time to eat sham-Italian bison burgers and sugar by the packet. Time to wait on line for the RENT lottery, lose, and use the knowledge you gained the previous night to score $20 standing room tickets. "Time to see what we have, time to see...."

Baby, baby, baby when all your love is gone
Who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world

Time to remember how (and who) to tip. Time to plan a night out. Time to sham down said night out to two more six-packs of Smirnoff. Time to sleep and dream crazily about bovines, defending honor, living dangerously.

Yeah well, maybe, maybe, maybe
You'll find something that's enough to keep you

Time to savor the final hours of this heady home away from home. Time to savor an omelet. Time to find cheap souvenirs to share with the fam in a Price is Right-style game. Time to sit in the US Airways food court at LaGuardia, listen to Dr. Joy and laugh hysterically about superglue. Time to board. Time to land. Time to eat. Time to drive home. Time to sleep. Time to close my eyes and dream that I'm back on the subway, hurtling toward dreamland and maybe sleep-drooling just a little bit. See you next year, New York.

But if the bright lights don't receive you
Well, turn yourself around and come on home

"Bright Lights" lyrics © Matchbox Twenty. Used for educational purposes only. All rights reserved.

Dictionary.com
cel·i·bate
adj.

1. Abstaining from sexual intercourse, especially by reason of religious vows.

2. Unmarried; unwed.

Hmm. Dictionary.com seems to be flirting with some logical fallacies, namely that unmarried people abstain from sex and that married people cannot be celibate. Moving on....

I wonder how much they paid the guy who recorded all the pronunciations of all the words. That seems like quite an undertaking, but also like something you could knock out in a few weeks to a month. That would be an awesome job. It's almost as cool as my new gig.

Merriam-Webster
Main Entry: cel·i·bate
Pronunciation: 'se-l&-b&t
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin caelibatus, from caelib-, caelebs unmarried
: a person who lives in celibacy

Wow. Way to define the term with itself. Good job, guys. I hate you.

OED
Find word: celibate

1. celibate, n.1

2. celibate, a. and n.2

3. celibate, v.

Wait a minute. In what way is it a verb?

OED
trans. To restrain from marriage, compel to celibacy.

1659 EVELYN Gold. Bk. St. Chrysostom Misc. Writ. 114 That thou shouldst clibat him..and make him a monk.

That is awesome. I want to celibate someone. Well, you know, someone other than myself. Because of that whole antagonist thing, probably.

OED

Hence celibatic a., of or pertaining to celibacy; celibatist, a professed supporter of celibacy; celibatory (rare) = CELIBATARIAN.

1881 Echo 11 Apr. 1/6 The remnant of ‘celibatic superstition’ which even now hangs around some of our academical establishments. 1885 J. C. JEAFFRESON Real Shelley I. 20 Compensation for the loss of celibatic freedom. 1829 Blackw. Mag. XXVI. 758 Elizabeth..was herself a celibatist. 1841 L. HUNT Seer II. (1864) 5 A lone lodger, a celibatory.

Conjugation makes me happy. I love words.

OED

A. adj. Unmarried, single; bound not to marry.

B. n. One who leads a single life, a confirmed bachelor or spinster; one bound not to marry.

Hence celibateness, celibateship, = CELIBACY.

Having thus explored and defined the terms, I now face an even bigger challenge. Do I refer to myself as celibatic, celibatory, a celibatist...a celibator?

In other news, I'm growing my hair out. I thought you should know that.