Holy shit, dude!!
Look! I made myself lego-style and Justin and I South Park style. I so love the internet.

on the subject of magik
I guess I should elaborate a bit on my thoughts on Wicca (or any religion for that matter). First a little background on myself:

I was raised in a Christian family. By this I mean that I was taken to a Presbyterian church almost every Sunday during my childhood, attended a youth group regularly on Wednesday nights, and was both baptized and made a member of the church during my 13th year. I'm still not sure what any of this means. For a while, I found freedom in Christianity. Freedom, mercy, and infinite frustration. My church was what the new evangelical crowd calls "dead." The minister was an old white guy whose sermons, while wise, were monotone. The congregation was mainly the elderly, who sat solemnly through each sunday's lesson and sang the hymns softly and without passion. There were a few families and children, mostly traditional middle-class down-home moms and pops. The kids all hated this church and were bored to sin. Literally.

I went to this church from about the time I was 9 until I was... 13. I never found anything in Christianity initially. It was like I had to force myself to believe in what was being preached. The bible is a great resource, in my opinion. There are many pearls of wisdom that can be gleaned from it and applied to life, as with any book. I believed in a benevolent spirit.... even a vengeful deity, certainly a greater power. But why would that power take special interest in humans, not the earth? Why would that power oppress women, dominate beasts? I didn't get it and still don't. And my biggest failing as a Christian is that I simply cannot worship Christ. I can worship God, I can worship creation... but I cannot worship one man, be he holy or not. I don't doubt Christ existed. At the same time, so did about 100 other men claiming to be the Messiah. Lucky him, he got the right people to believe. He may have been a Gifted or a Chosen One. He certainly was a leader. But even if he did every single great deed that is written of him, I still cannot worship him and I still believe God does not want him worshipped. God used Christ to bring people to Him not to glorify the man. To worship Christ seems like setting up an idol. I can only worship God directly, through creation and essence... and hence could never be a "good" Christian.

This was not for lack of trying or, as the case may be, being forced to try. My grandparents became, early in my youth, "born again" Christians. They were always pretty strict fundamentalists, hence the fact that my father (their son) is now an atheist, scientist, and skeptic. But they started attending a church that was "alive" and sending my sheltered, home schooled, christian cousins to church camp over the summer. I barely ever got to go to Girl Scout camp and, from what the others described, this "Camp Rock" sounded like fun. Actually, as bitter as I am, it really was fun. I may not love the principles of Christianity, but I do like Christians. They're very loving people- and fun to argue with! I went to the camp seeking answers; I was empty, I wanted to be filled. I found answers. I found what it meant for a church to be 'alive'- it rocks with music and with people crying and touching the holy spirit, speaking in tounges and finding god. Every day we went to two long sermons, morning and evening. It was a "kleenex box alter," meaning we usually ended in tears for sadness, guilt, or joy. There's definitely something to be said for the group mentality. I felt it all. I spoke in tongues once... though it now seems that I just wanted to so badly that I finally let it out. I was "born again" at that camp but, in a way, I already knew that God was inside me and always would be. A lot of my questions were answered but many more were voided. I was filled with complacency for a while.

It was after my "rebirth" that things started to really bother me. It bothered me that I was expected to witness to and convert my friends, that listening to "secular" music would corrupt me, that I should shelter myself from the world rather than experience and understand it. What had been a peace inside me became anger when I was told that my best friend, who was Wiccan and had lesbian parents, should be my primary "project" or if I couldn't bring myself to witness to her, I should avoid her. I was furious. The next year I went to camp angry and with more questions. This time they were answered more concretely and I knew, there was some huge discord between the essence that is me and the Christian belief system. I wasn't in the church for much longer. For a while I was really angry and then I realized that I wasn't any less a spiritual person and I started to build my own belief system- or rather, realized it had always been there.

Yes, I was also raised alongside a Pagan girl. Sian never witnessed to me, she never taught me any magic or rituals. In fact, I don't think she learned any herself until we were in high school and she joined Diana Circle. I always wondered what they did there; she went to "Diana Circle" and I to church. When my mother found out her family practiced Wicca, she forbade me to be Sian's friend. I still remember that moment like it were a photograph. I was sitting on the kitchen counter when she told me and I ran into the living room, slammed the door and cried on the couch. Sheryl Crow's "Strong Enough" was playing on the radio. Despite that Sian never told me anything about Wicca except what I asked (and that was very vague and made little sense given that I had only experience a Presbyterian church at that time and knew not very much about life) we raised each other with magic. When I say 'each other' I mean that I now understand that each of us had a hand in what we created, which was something magical beyond our control, a gate that only the pure and unfettered mind of a child could open. Now that I better know Wicca, it's strange to look back and think that I had a hand our experience as well. I was never trained, by her or by anyone. Sometimes I question whether she had more influence on me that I think... but the way I remember is that I was always the "leader" and the creator. I was the High Priestess in our triad, I worked the big magiks.

Essentially, what I'm trying to say is that now, reading up on Wicca, the only thing that is at all unfamiliar to me are the formalized rituals. Every other aspect of the religion is something I have already practiced or experienced. It has been within me since I was a child. I'm sure there was some draw to it because of the taboo but there was also fear, too. I was raised and taught to believe that Wiccans played with bad magic, that there was no "Goddess," only the "whore" of Revelations. I cannot imagine a universe so imbalanced. I never believed this, of course, but it did worm its way into my brain and I am still afraid to be seen by others as... something like that. I guess I fear the word "witch." I don't like it, at all. And I shouldn't feel this way if I'm to become one. I see nothing wrong with the words shaman, oracle, or priestess... so I should see nothing wrong with "witch." But the cultural and christian stereotype has been so drilled into my brain that despite my knowledge of the clean, earthy meaning of the term, I still picture a hag in a black hat and I still emotionally tie the word with fear and, actually, bitchiness. It's kind of ironic but I think we all retain stereotypes like this sometimes. I could just smile and pretend I don't have a problem with the word, but I'd rather work out what my difficulties are and overcome them. There's only one other fear I have concerning Wicca, and I'll get to that in a moment.

I've always felt a strange affinity with the natural and ancient magics ever since I was a little girl. Perhaps it's just my fantasy-mindedness, perhaps I really am born to walk this path. There's always been a certain amount of fear of the unknown and, when I was younger, a fear of persecution holding me back from fully experiencing this magic. The last few years have taught me to embrace what I fear, to walk through the unknown and even through my pain to learn from it. The last few years have also taught me that there is no greater mistake than to waste what is given you, to throw it away or forget about it. I can't forget about what is inside of me, but I can pretend to ignore it. I don't want to live life like that. I look through these books and pages on this way of life and I realized that I have already been living it, I already believe, I just have to affirm this belief. I know I have the power to do that, and I am eager to find what focusing that power can do for me. But I am also seriously afraid of being let down. Because I, my friends, on top of being a spititualist, am a skeptic. I am cautious to embrace that which I do not fully understand; I am cautious to validate it. And so I worry that in giving myself to this thing, in externalizing that which is inside me, I will only find that this most sacred, precious thing is not as real as it should be. That the ocean of essence inside of me will peter out into a small trickle at the laughter of a few cynics should it be let out. I'm afraid that I don't really believe.

As long as I keep my sacred space inside of me, no one can damage it. There is no way to be hurt or let down because it is pure, private, untouched. In a way, I suppose I'm letting it out here in telling the world about my dreams, but it is still just a story... words are not action, but they are magic in their own right. I feel like I could initiate myself as a Wiccan, that it would be a powerful ritual, that it is something I want to do because I don't want to waste what's inside of me and never find out if I can truly experience it. But thinking the words and saying them are two entirely different things. I worship in my head. I chant there, too. I weave blessings and curses and shelter myself behind a circle I cast with my mind. But I have never had the strength to voice these things. Why? Because it feels... silly Silly to say them and especially in English. I feel like they shouldn't be spoken, that words somehow break the concentration of the soul. But that's how one externalizes, so I'll have to learn to do it. If you don't speak, no one hears... but if no one hears, no one but you knows it didn't work. And that's what I'm really afraid of. I'm afraid I'm just convincing myself that what I believe is real, that were I to actually try it I would be let down. But I guess that's just what faith is, believing in the face of adversity. And I want it so badly. If so many people can believe and do, I must be able to. I already have so much, I don't want it blown away.

That's my dilemma.

So when I said yesterday that I'd decided to become a practicing witch, what I think I meant was that I'm eager to try. I haven't really decided yet, I think I still have some consideration to do. On one hand, I can't avoid it... it becomes more and mroe obvious as I think about it that this is what I am but on the other, I can't commit to something half-assedly and expect results. I need to know what I want and, as of yet, I'm not sure. I think I might start keeping a journal just on this subject: what I'm learning and what I've done. Maybe I'll share it, maybe I won't. There is a journey into this ahead of me... I just don't know where it will go.

and now for something completely different
Maybe that should be my blog title. That or addiction because I clearly have a problem writing too much. Ah well, I know some of you keep reading anyway.

I've decided to try a new approach. Well, not entirely new because this is still my diary, but different. I'm going to try and write on a topic. I often manage to do this but maybe attempting it consciously will help me think creatively. I'm a journalist... it shouldn't be that hard. In any case, this is still a personal journal, so many entries will be random conglomerations of personal details, timelines, events, stream of consciousness thoughts, and non-sequitors. All of it, of course, utterly out-of-context.

Let's demonstrate the different ideas, shall we? Starting with a complete non-sequitor:

While I was writing just now I suddenly started thinking about my grandparents' old house in Royal Oak, Michigan.

stream of cousciousess: They moved out of that house about a year before I left Michigan but for some reason I was just reminded of the dining room, the way it smelled, what the light looked like, how we all had Thanksgiving dinner there and, for some reason, what the Cranberry jelly and stuffing tasted like. I also remember the back yard... even it smelled like Grandparents. I used to ride a Big Wheel around that yard when I was really young and, sometimes, my grandmother would stand on the back porch smoking a cigarette. She must be proof that you can still smoke and live healthily to an old age. She certainly is doing better than my grandfather.

I'd probably better stop with this stream now, as I'm sure it could go on forever. On the other hand, doing that sometimes might be just as productive for creative energies as theme writing. I was going to write on a topic though... new things

event: I started scuba class last night. I didn't really realize how excited I was to be doing it until the class started. Lecture runs Tu/Th from 4:30- 5:45 and I have a 2 hour pool session from 6-8 on Tuesday (though I may switch to Thurs b/c less people are in that session).

personal information: I'm taking the class for several reasons. First, because I love the ocean. To me, it is the earthly incarnation of the Mother Goddess. All life stems from the sea. Without water we would die. Water is both our mother and our life. I worship it and fear it and to be a part of it the way that diving makes you is something I've always desired. Secondly, Justin and I have plans to go to Belize this Christmas with his family. I don't know what will be happening because his dad and Beverly split up, but I hope we end up going. I want to dive the Blue Hole.

timeline: So anyway, we learned some basic techniques in class last night. How to strap a tank to your vest, how to set up a regulator. What not to do. Every time we leave an air tank standing upright and walk away from it, we have to buy the instructors a soda. After we set up the gear and got into the pool (with a buddy) we learned how to operate the regulator and took our first breaths under water. Holy shit was that cool. Really, though, it didn't strike me as that strange. I've always felt that I should be able to breathe under water. It's a shame it takes a thirty-seven pound tank to let me do it. What I did find funny, however, was learning under water. There's a standard set of hand signals the dive instructors use to get you to pay attention, listen, and repeat. I felt like Flipper learning for fishy snacks. More than once I almost cracked up... but you really can't laugh under water. Hell, if I smile it leaked water into my mask. Guess I need some Botox. : p So last night we learned basic swim technique, breathing, how to let go of the regulator (always exhale, never hold your breath), how to clear the regulator of water, how to find the regulator when it goes floating off, and how to fill and empty goggles with water while under the surface.

thoughts: We had some play time too, in the deep end, and I learned that while SCUBAing you don't swim with your arms. Huh. Who'da figured? If I just swam with my legs while under water normally, I'd probably get tired fast. But swimming with arms while geared up makes one feel like a fish OUT of water. I also learned that I need to stop pointing my feet and kick with my LEGS. I got Charlie Horses in my arches like nobody's business. It took a while to breathe deep and relax but when I did, it was great. I sat splayed on the bottom of the pool, thanks to the weight belt, and watched everyone swim around. I played with the inflator and floated, crosslegged, halfway to the surface and back down. Oh the things you can do! Three more pool sessions, seven more classes, and we're off to the coast to get certified. Apparently if you can dive in the freezing, musky waters of Oregon, the tropics are like the pool. I don't know whether to be ecstatic or terrified. It was both easier and more difficult than I thought it would be. And after two hours in a 79 degrees pool, I was VERY cold. Mostly, I think my apprehension comes from the slight discomfort of all the gear . I clench my teeth on the regulator, I try to swim with my arms, I point my toes. I need to think more like a fish, not a woman! All in all though, I greatly look forward to the next few weeks.

Awkward transition, tries to stay on subject anyway: I think what makes SCUBA so great is that it's really utterly unlike anything I've ever done before. I think I'll really love it after I get into the ocean and I'm really in my element. That's something I've been waiting for all my life.

Aside or Social Blodding: Thanks to Katie for the books on Wicca.

(ok, I have to stop dissecting and categorizing this post, I hate it)

After reading through the first book she recommended, I've decided to become a practicing witch. I've always been hesitant to actually dive into Wicca because of the stereotyping that went along with it- simlar to my hesitations about Christianity or any other religion. The single difference between Wiccan and any other "religion" is that I really don't have to "convert" to be official. For all respects, I already am Wiccan. The system I've build around myself, all my practices and beliefs, are already pagan. I don't have to try very hard to qualify myself. The only thing I've lacked so far is a concrete understanding of traditional rituals and practices... those I keep inside are of my own design and equally legitimate. For all intents and purposes, I've been working magic ever since I was a little girl. Reading through this book was like reading a manual for my life. I realized that while I wasn't raised Wiccan, I raised myself that way. Being with Sian (who was a member of a Circle since she was very young) helped a lot. Believing in the Old Magik helped more. All it takes now for me to confirm my beliefs is an official declaration of intent. I figure I'll give it a shot and see where it takes me. All the underlying essences of Wiccan are already within me- I wonder what a little focus will do. Of course, my parents would kill me if they found out- and I intend for them to find out eventually, just not now.

A few interesting thoughts for the day, to conclude this most random post:

- There was a train "parked' on the trestle that I bike under on the way to campus this morning. It was a rather strange train... each car was a flatbed and on top of each flatbed was a truck. Not just the stackable boxes you see on some trains, but the entire rear of a truck, wheels and all. A lot of the trucks said "Dole" on them and I wondered if there was fruit inside. As I biked under the trestle, I heard a curious noise, rather like a lot of trucks running. It was then that I realized that the trucks were refrigerator cars and had their cold systems turned on. I wonder what was inside? yum...

-As I look out the window toward the east, I see a man perched in a bare-branched old pine tree, forty feet off the ground. They're removing the tree because it's dead and probably unsafe. He's chain-sawing off branches and watching them plummet to the foot of the tree with a SMACK. I wonder if he's afriad of heights. Even though he's roped up there, when he swings from branch to branch, does he fear for his life? Does it thrill him or has he been doing it for so long he hardly even cares?

tech support
If you're too stupid to handle your own computer, do yourself a favor and follow this man's example.

time is of the essence
I had a strange thought the other day.

What if one of us- You, me, or someone you know, decided to suddenly "give up" time. We know time as we think of it is a human construct. Animals hold no calendar. So what if one of us decided to keep no clocks, no calendars, and abide only by instinct. How long would we last?

First, we would have to give up the idea of being on time because we wouldn't know when 3 o'clock was to make that meeting. We would sleep as late as we liked, eat when we were hungry, etc. But slowly, I think, time would begin to reistablish itself.

There will always be night and day, the turning of the sun. We would begin to count the days. Slowly, we would become accustomed to the moving of the sun in the sky and we would know the hour by the light. After we knew hours and days, we would watch the moon and form a crude sort of month. By the turning of the seasons and the moving of the months, we would know that another year had passed. Granted, we would not know the first of January or Six o'clock monday morning but we would know something similar of our own. We would, invariably, return to time. Or would it return to us?

Would someone raised without the teaching of clocks and calendars (but nonetheless a thinking, modern man) come to the same conclusion? Would a "virgin" mind invent time? I would venture to guess so. And isn't that amazing?

We can't live purely without time any more than it can live without us. Time is of the essence... and its essence is human.

i'm getting too old for this.... shennanigans
prepare for a random post
It's time to play catch-up for the weekend and because memories are precious, precious commodities, I will try to write all the important things and some not-so-important filler. My brain is definitely going though, so I will only attempt to be clear and concise. Take, for example, that I was just at the gym and spent the better part of a few minutes frustratedly looking through my locker for my towel and almost cursing beause I couldnt figure out where the HELL it was. I finally had to stop because it was falling off and I had to readjust it. Yes, that's right... I was wearing it. I'm a big dumbass. I guess I have a lack of sleep to justify my madness. Today should be an interesting day, I'm still trying to get both workouts in (cardio and weights) and save time for some recreation in the evening. This is DAMN hard working from 8-5 and not getting home until 6:30. We got our 24" Wega Trinitron (flatscreen) today and I'm looking forward to watching Willow on it late. Justin says he's leaving me for the TV... bastard. We've also been invited to a 21st b-day party for a friend later in the evening that I should make a social appearance at, time permitting. Of course, I really just want to chill. Not that work is particulary stressful. Today I set up the cam software at my office. It will probably go live tomorrow but for now all I have is a capture to show you. I may end up toting it around with me to various work locations and home permitting that the server setup can handle that. Now time for some reflection on the adventures of the weekend:

Saturday:
Got up way too goddam early and left with Justin and 5AM to drive to Corvallis. We met Dave (one of the other Knights) at the deserted HP(Evil) parking lot and drove the rest of the way up to seattle. I crammed myself into the jumpseat of his pickup and slept a lot despite the fact that it made me slightly nauseous. We got to Marc's place around 11 o'clock, I showered, and we went to see Minority Report. Seeing movies in the middle of the day is always disorienting but especially then because my sleep schedule was already messed up. It was a pretty damn good movie though, except for a few major obvious plot holes and a rather cornball ending. And someone tell me this: why wasn't the main issue of the movie whether or not it was ethical to hold the "precogs" there as tools? Knowing ANYTHING about today's society, I would have figured that's what people would be bitching about, not whether the system itself was infallible. Human rights struck me as far more relevant to the situation. In any case, I'd give it four stars. There was some discussion about going to Toyoda's afterward for sushi but we decided against it because we were in Redmond and driving at 3:00 over to North Seattle and then back by 5:00 to make a ferry in West seattle (all while the 520 bridge was closed) didn't seem smart. It's a good thing we didn't try either, given that Toyoda's opens at 5PM. Der. We ended up eating at Cucina Cucina, just around the corner from where we saw the movie. By then, Marc wasn't looking too good.

Marc used to do martial arts and was forced to retire after he was thwacked in the head and started to experience some rather painful post-traumatic symptoms. First off, he's REALLY light-sensitive; his apartment is kept dark most of the time. Light gives him headaches- and indicator of his biggest problem, pain. Apparently he's in a lot of pain and the docs don't know why. He's been prescribed valium and morphine and his body still kicks his ass. They're starting him on steriods and hormones because his own body is consuming his muscle mass. Not a good idea for an already aggressive person to be on those meds, if you ask me. Honestly, having never experienced anything similar and being told there was no apparent cause, I can't sympathize. My reaction is to chalk it up to being psycho-somatic and tell him to go homeopathic and get off the habit-forming drugs. Having seen what they do to him now, I feel even more that way. Must be my suspicion of modern medicine kicking in. I hadn't seen valium or morphine tablets before. It's strange, they're tiny.Even stranger, the effect. After suffering through the taste of them dissolving, Marc changed almost instantly. It was like he was uber-stoned and hyper-emotional. He had a hard time focusing but could still talk and, at about the time our food arrived, he was heading into his life's story and getting pretty worked up about it. There was this awkward silence at the table. I think Justin and Karl were trying to maintain a respectful masculine stoicism... that, or they just didn't know how to deal with it. After Marc told us about his accident and how it taught him about humility, he started to cry. What was awkward even for me to witness suddenly became extremely touching, especially how he tearfully explained his belief that no one can live alone. I almost cried. It really is true, I guess... we can't live without each other, though some of us try. And we really deserve to be loved. I'm a fiercely independent person, yet something about seeing a grown man cry (be he extremely doped) got through to me.

We drove back to the apartment and then to West Seattle to catch the Vashon Ferry for the Knights' Library show later that evening. At that point I fell asleep and was extremely zonked until we got on the ferry. Sleeping with one's contacts in is not a good idea. The next day I saw an ad for these contacts you can supposedly wear for a month. I don't buy it. I'm not keeping anything that's not part of my eye in my eye for more than a few hours. ICK. My contacts were all dry and shit, so I tried to moisten them in my h2o bottle (not that sanitary, I know) and ended up ripping like a FIFTH out of one of them. That PISSED me off. So then it was either wear a ripped lens or go half blind. If you don't already know, I'm legally blind without the damn things, so I chose to wear the crappy lens. Boy, did THAT make my eye irritated and my mood foul. As it turned out, I didn't have reason to complain for that long. My eye sucked for a while, felt better, sucked more, etc... but the show itself was fun. I noticed, afterward, that a few people were looking dejected, Justin included. As it turns out, there was a little accident during Justin's fight with Marc. This fight involves Justin beating Marc in the helmet three times with his demi-gauntlets. At Bridle Trails, Marc claimed Justin knocked him momentarily unconscious and requested that Justin hit him softer. This time, I think Justin did but he also failed to notice that the visor on Marc's helmet had come open mid-fight and so nailed him in the mouth with a backhand... and broke Marc's tooth. No faking that, I tell ya. I guess Marc's just lucky he had a bit of residualal morphine in his system. Justin felt like shit after that and got REALLY down on himself. He isn't the humblest person but I'm sure he apologized. Marc was trying to be all nice about it but being who he is, just ended up sounding like a dick. I guess he has the right, though... he does have a snaggletooth that's going to cost him $1500 or so to repair and I bet it hurts like a b!tch. Lucky him, at least he has the drugs to help. =p I'm worried he's a little too dependent on them. Of course, I'm skeptical of most people except my closest friends. But Marc was nice enough to put us up for the night and all I had to complain about was a ripped contact, so I really can't complain.

Another one of the Knights lost a ring on the field and we set out to find it. After offering kids in the audience $20 to find it we gave up and left it to them. They found it eventually and I was out some cash. Oh well, at least John got his ring back. We missed the ferry that we were shooting for on the way back, so while Justin and Karl wandered about sullenly, I sat in the car and talked relationships with Marc. It was interesting, talking to someone whom polyamory was actually working for. Imagine that. Ach, only in a perfect world could I have my harem. When the ferry came, I escaped the tension in the car by going up to the deck and watching the moon on the water. It was a blessing to take the long way home, stopping off at another of the San Juan Islands before coming back to Seattle. There's nothing like standing on a ferry deck and communning with the ocean. I talked to another of the Knights out in the open wind before coming back down to cower in the car where it was at least warm. I think I'll like hanging with this crowd during show season. Maybe I should create another blog dedicated to the Faires. This weekend is GreeneWood in Tri-Cities! ^^ We finally got back home and just crashed on the couch. Marc was generous with drinks and made up Whiskey Sours for Justin and I. That sounds NASTY, I know, but they were really VERY good! Justin's a puss so he couldn't finish his (it was "too sour" ; ) so I drank it. We watched Rush Hour II, a drank some tequila, ate some fries and fell asleep before the movie was over. DAMMIT. I guess it was 3AM.

Sunday
Next morning we got up around 11 and realized that we needed to get our butts out the door if we wanted to have any fun before Knights practice at 3. We still ended up sitting on our asses for two hours just to watch the first Next Generation on TV before we got out the door. Yes yes. I had forgotten. As much as I love Wil Wheaton.... why is Wesley Crusher so DAMN annoying? We considered sushi for dinner again but realized that we couldn't do it this weekend because of the stupid hours. Saa... Oh well. Instead, we decided to go to the Freemont Fair in Seattle. I've always wanted to go these past years and always missed it! I love fairs! This one wasn't as big as I expected and we missed the Solstice parade on Saturday which, now that I think of it, might have been worth going to. In fact, I damn near missed the Solstice altogether. I've been bad about celebrating my pagan holidays lately. I really ought to learn myself some actual Wicca so that I can actually practice the Old magik. I've been kind of a Wicca-by-default the last few years and too much of a wuss to go hard-core. But every time I miss Beltane or any of the Solstices or a full moon without doing some dance or tribute to the Goddess and the old Gods, I feel a little sad. It's part of me, I think. It was worth going to the Fair though- very celebratory, in it's own way. The weather was great and I learned to Hula Hoop!!! You don't understand the greatness of this. I've never been able to Hoop before. I SUCKED at it as a kid and all it took was 30 seconds for a flagrantly strange street performer to show me how. It was great! Fun booths, good food. A bit of serendipity occurred when I took on the public painting canvas... strange "writing on the wall" (pun intended) that made my day a little more surreal. Funny, sometimes, how life makes you do a double-take. After that it was off to practice, where the guys got ready for GreeneWood and Justin got even more discouraged. We left Seattle around 9PM and after a few hours I suffered to cram myself into the jumpseat for a nap so I could get up for work at 8AM. When we got to HP in Corvallis at 1AM I had to have Dave smuggle me in to use the restroom. It was some serious sneaking around to avoid security since I didn't have clearance. Fun times! Rupert missed us, I think.

Anyway, that was my weekend... in a way that I never wanted to present a weekend: the timeline. How dull. Somehow, it seemed fitting too. I'm still not sure whether or not I'm glad I went up there this weekend. It was kind of a bummer, but I think it ended well. Hopefully Justin will get over the tooth thing now that he has the TV to ogle. I finished The Rules and have gotten into Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It's much more my style. Anyway, because I know you love it so much, here are some more quotes from the evil book:

- "Dating is like slow dancing. The Man should take the lead or you fall over your feet.... He should be an open book, you should be a mystery." (p. 88)

-"Of course, a playboy type who falls in love with you because you did The Rules will automatically mend his ways." (p. 91) Oh...of course.

-"Love Story is a movie you should study like the Bible." (p. 110)

-"Dress better, a little sexier. No man likes coming home to a woman wearing sweatpants or a bathrobe all the time. Try wearing tight jeans, a miniskirt, or a deep V-necked shirt in a bright color. Put on some makeup and perfume. Wash your hair." (p. 127) This is for after you're married. When you're a doormat. Ok, I know men like these things... but I know men who like sweatpants and bathrobes just fine. They're "easy access," after all!

-In case your friends nag you about The Rules, don't listen to them. "The fact is that your friends and others might not have the burning desire to get married and have babies. They may be perfectly content in their careers and hobbies. You, on the other hand, can't imagine life without a husband. Neither could we. That's why we did The Rules- to ensure that the right man didn't get away." Or the wrong one. Welcome to divorce, Ellen Fein.

-To high school girls: "Notice what kinds of clothes, shoes, bags, jewelry, and hairstyles the most popular kids in high school are wearing. Don't try to be too different or frugal in this area. You'll feel lousy, so it's not worth it." (p. 136)
and in the same vein...

-"(Strange how women think that men are attracted to women who dress like men- sporty and even grungy. Yet, it's always the girls with cute jeans and fashionable shits that get the guys.) The Rule is don't wear clothes to copy men, but to attract them." (p. 139)

Don't we all love how utterly shallow and wrong this is? Great. I'm off to lift weights with my muscle-bound self in "sporty" clothes in a gym full of men. Guess they don't want me. Doesn't match my perception of things...

oh, that's great
Well, because this one was just too good to pass up, it's time to post some search hit results. What has led these poor wandering souls to my page?

*drummroll please*
1. NUMBER ONE google hit for "Amazing Ty's Gigantic Asshole." Uhm. I will have to tell Ty about this.
2. Someone searched uoregon.edu for "blogs" and both Alex's blog and mine came up 4 times
3. Google hit "Urusai Yatsura"
4. Google hit "ice fuck girl pictures binding." Yeees. Interesting....
5. Hits from people who, like me, spell Freddie Prinze Junior wrong (Freddy)
6. Google hit for "Sian Chivers" (#6). Sian Chivers was my best friend in Elementary and Middle school. In wonder who's looking for her?
7. Google search hit "funny coworker birthday cards." I'm glad some people have class. How come no one sends me shitty cards?
8. Google search hit #28 for "soggy yard." OooooKAY.
9. Google uoregon.edu hit for "animal house"
10. Google hit "this is real" "this is now" song lyrics. Hm. Flattering, I guess.

My site hits are up to 21 a day from the constant average of 20. Must be doing something write. I know you all hate it when I get egotistical and angry (see last entry) and much prefer the abstract, mellow Kat. But look at it this way; at least I'm not one of those damned annoying reactionary politician bloggers. I might get incensced about something every now and then (like the fact that I am so SICK of news about the middle east! I've only gotten the NY times since monday and I already wish that the fuckers would just blow each other up so we could stop hearing about it, the've been at it for over twenty years now anyway!!! *huff huff huff* ahem...) but I suppose we all do.

Probably won't post this weekend, though I'll have to if anything TOO interesting happens. I think I've decided to go up to seattle with Justin and Dave. That means leaving tomorrow morning around 4AM and arriving home Sunday around 2AM. Ugh. As long as I get some sleep on the way back, I should be ok. It wasn't this persistent craving for Toyoda's Sushi that convinced me to go, it was the fact that the Freemont Fair and the Solstice Parade are this weekend. Every year I want to go and every year I miss them. Not again! BWAR! Also, an opportunity to hang with "the guys" sounds fun. And. Interesting. The guy we're staying with, Mark, happens to be big in Seattle's BDSM scene. He's apparently in possession of three slaves at present and was "Mr. Leather" just a while ago. He's made several standing offers to Justin and I that, on principle, we're had to turn down but I have to admit, I'm curious. I guess it's an adventure and I really don't have anything better to do, though I was hesitant to go because Murray's leaving Monday. I guess we'll see him at Greenwood Faire in TriCities in a week though. Oh, and this weekend there's a show on Vashon island... ferry boats are fun!! Justin's also promising to take me to Dilatante's (a decadent chocolate place) in Seattle for some reason... he says it's a surprise. In any case, off I go to clean the house a bit before dinner. Mata ne.

married... with confusion
Ok, before I get started, here is the test skin for "waiting for rain." Yes, it's brown and desolate and the colors look stupid anywhere but on Frederick so the unofficial vote is that I hate it. On the other hand, it's about how I feel right now. What the hell is the matter with you, you ask? Um, well, I'm not sure. Again, I think it has to do somewhat with the definition of the "real world" I was offering before. If I don't get my reality checked every now and then (not in a bad way, mind you), the part of my mind that is a real screwed up idealist starts dreaming. And dreams usually fuck me up more than reality. Reality I can cope with, I have to, because it's real. But dreams... well, they exist but on a much more intangible level. You can't just banish them without feeling haunted or empty. I woke up this morning feeling used and betrayed by my mind. In fact, I got up and then had to crawl back into bed because I was so confused. I'm still confused. There's nothing here to really keep me from believing I'm still dreaming except the hard lines of my desk beneath my hands. That feeling is somehow comforting. And I have memory... it's always confusing to lose your mind, even in dreams.

I can remember all of yesterday in a way that tells me I was sober all day, there's nothing clouding my mind. Yesterday I did research for Justin on TVs and DVD players. We've settled on a Sony single-disc DVD ($149) and decided to splurge for the 24" Sony Trinitron Wega TV ($400). I think it'll be worth it except for the frustrating waiting. No instant gratification for us- neither of the places we went had it in stock so we have to wait another half a week for them to get it in. Ah well. It's all his cash, even though I put in $170- I owed him as much for deposits on the apartment. C'est la Vie. Yesterday I also started reading The Rules the terrible little book that Sara gave me. Sara bought it at Smith Family Books for an amusing read. Amusing it is, but also vomitously horriffic and it's causing me no end of pain. The authors of this book want to set women back a hundred years... it's really terrible. For all you self-proclaimed feminists out there, fear this book. Basically, the premise is this: Dress and act like a tease, lead a man on until he's obsessed with you, make sure to never find out anything emotional about him, never, under any circumstances, reveal your true self (no matter how much you want to)- then marry him and be happy for the rest of your life. What is this, Hookers-R-Us? Gimme a fuckin break here. "The man must propose because biologically, he is the aggressor." Sounds a lot like the Naturalistic fallacy to me. Might as well say 'The man must beat his wife because biologically, he is the aggressor.' Ladies please, have a little more self respect. The complete irony here is that the woman who wrote the book, the ultimate "rules girl" just got divorced. Ha. A little trouble in the sea of bliss, darling? Can't take rocking the boat? Please. No marraige is perfect, everyone knows that. To expect otherwise is to be jaded. Life is hard. Love is great but dirt and sweat and blood come with years of marraige. You can't flirt forever, that's bullshit. It's hard work after a while, not romance. Let's see... shall I regale you with some quotes from this fine literary masterpiece (touted as a #1 New York Times Bestseller)?

First off, let me say that this whole thing is about getting a husband. Like a woman needs a man... like she's desperate for one. This is not equality. I like company as much as the next girl but to stake my happiness on whether or not I have a sexual or romantic partner is below me. Please. Anyway...

This is a gem: "If you walk around in any old clothes on the theory that what counts is only what's inside, not your outside, think again! Men like women who wear fashionable, sexy clothes in bright colors. Why not please them?" (p. 17) Why not please them?!?!?! Give me a fucking break!!! And it goes on... "Always remember that you are a creature unlike any other (rule number one, not bad advice), a woman (also true). Don't aspire to the unisex look. Buy feminine-looking clothes to wear on the weekends as well as during the workweek. Remember that you're dressing for me, not other women, so always strive to look feminine." What what WHAT??? Oh yeah, I dress for men. No, I dress for me. I dress sexy because it feels good. I like looks, sure. But because they please ME, not THEM. Whose life am I living, anyway???

Oh, this is great.... "Don't leave the house without wearing makeup. Put lipstick on even when you go jogging!" (p. 19)

And... "yo're looking for lovce and marriage so you can't always do what you feel like." (p. 30) Yay. Sounds like fun for the rest of my life.

Accroding to the Rules you can't talk to a man first. You can't call him. You can't open up to him. You can't confide in him. And this is expected to amgically blossom into a loving marraige? Give me a break. I'm not hoping for true love anyway, but this isn't even near real-world love in my book. Granted, it may be true that the rules will make a man attracted to you. There is something to be said for personal mystery. There is definitely something to be said for acting as if you are beautiful, confident, and have a wonderful life... that will make you infinitely more alluring. You may even begin to believe it yourself. But I find it disgusting that these women want to base their most intimate relationships on a complete void of intimacy. Like I said, it may be true that the more mysterious and brush-offish you are, the more men follow you around (even those you don't want) but in my mind, this shouldn't mean you settle for these men. Might be fun, playing the dating game... and I know, from personal experience that it can even be fun to be the prize that's sough over. It feels good but I can tell you honestly, it's the WORST thing a woman can do to herself.

I'll take my chances and be myself because I won't settle for a man that wants less than the real me, even my fits of depression. He has to love me enough to take it all and if I act sappy and gleeful all the time, that just isn't real. I'm not selling myself out to go "fishing," I'm playing for real friendship here. It might not be as exciting... but it's real and comforting and safe and it will last.

I suppose the best precie for the book would be excerpts from the back cover:

"...THE RULES recognize certain facts of life. That men know what they want. That a man is either attracted to you-- or not! That men want a challenge, not an instant or easy victory.....

The goal? Marraige, in the shortest time possible, to a man you love, who loves you even more than you love him."

*vomits onto the floor, gets a dirty look from the boss* EXQUEEZE ME? Men know what they want? Bullllll-shit! The other two, I think vary from person to person and I respect that but come ON. Ugh.

In any case, I'm only about halfway done with the book, so there will be more evil quotes to come. This book gave NIGHTMARES! Ok, so they weren't nightmares in the traditional sense but by now you should have guessed a little something about me. I don't particularly like the idea of marraige, especially an uncertain marraige. In fact, the institute itself makes me feel cynical and insecure. In light of recent events (sic. Justin's parents) I'm even less fond of jaded views of relationships. So in this dream I had last night I was rather flustered to find that, having just returned from travelling abroad, I was getting married. Needless to say, this idea didn't make me happy. It was even more confusing when someone else decided to try and marry me instead and worse when I couldnt remember who I was really supposed to be with. I ended up trying to marry both to negate the mistake. We all know that doesn't work...

Read the whole dream.

I woke up after this dream, at freakin 7 AM this morning and proceeded to get ready for work. I felt empty and needy and betrayed by my own mind (welcome to the world of kat's dreams). Eventually I gave up on starting my day like a normal person and just crashed again. I feel better now... slightly traumetized but better. At least reading this book makes me feel like a real person, not a whoring bimbo. It makes the world less confusing when you're confident. Now.. I think... I'm me, and there's no immediate danger of marraige.

synesthesia
Oh man, I'm not the only one who sees music!!

No one's ever TOLD me I was crazy when I said that I could see music and that all sounds have colors... but I'm sure that more than a few people have thought it. When I see music I don't just see colors, sometimes I see much more... it has an essence.

I didn't know there was a name for it, much less a condition and that it's experienced by about 1 in every 25,000 people. I am special after all!

I don't associate color with letters but I do associate sound with memory, and smell. I can never remember names and faces, NEVER. But I can always remember sounds and smells.

Read this article for a better idea of whether you might be a synesthese.

Here's some more info that is, at least, slightly relevant to me:

-Women synesthetes predominate. In the U.S. I found a ratio of 3:1 (Cytowic, 1989), while in the U.K. Baron-Cohen et al. (1993) found a female ratio of 8:1.

-Synesthetes are preponderantly non-right-handed. Additional features (see below) are consistent with anomalous cerebral dominance. (I'm a righty though)

-Not only do most synesthetes contend that their memories are excellent, but cite their parallel sensations as the cause, saying for example, "I know it's 2 because it's white." Conversation, prose passages, movie dialogue, and verbal instructions are typical subjects of detailed recall. The spatial location of objects is also strikingly remembered, such as the precise location of kitchen utensils, furniture arrangements and floor plans, books on shelves, or text blocks in a specific book. Perhaps related to this observation is a tendency to prefer order, neatness, symmetry, and balance. Work cannot commence until the desk is arranged just so, or everything in the kitchen is put away in its proper place. Synesthetes perform in the superior range of the Wechsler Memory Scale (especially relevent is the neatness thing, and visualization)

-Within their overall high intelligence, synesthetes have uneven cognitive skills. While a minority are frankly dyscalculic, the majority may have subtle mathematical deficiencies (such as lexical-to-digit transcoding). (HA HA, that explains it. I'm not a dumbass after all.)

-As a group, synesthetes seem more prone to "unusual experiences" than one might expect (17% in my 1989 study, though if anyone knows what the general-population baseline for unusual experiences is, I should like to know). Qualitatively, one thinks of the personality constellation said to be typical of temporal-limbic epileptics. Deja vu, clairvoyance, precognitive dreams, a sense of portentousness, and the feeling of a presence are encountered often enough. Singular instances in my experience include empathic healing, and an explanans of psychokinesis for what was probably an explanandrum of episodic metamorphopsia.

-From the above, it seems that for most people synesthesia is ineffable, that which by definition cannot be imparted to others or adequately put into words. It might seem impossible at first for science to scrutinize a phenomenon whose "quality" must be experienced first-hand. (Yup.)

electronica
Justin and I are looking for some new technology. A DVD player, TV, and VCR specifically. So far, we've established there are several options open to us. Tell me, which do you think would be best?

-A straight-up regular DVD player (prices depending on number of discs, music capability, etc) (VHS, TV separate)
-DVD/ VHS combo (TV separate)
-Playstation II
-TV+ DVD or TV, DVD, VHS combo

The real issue is that we have neither a VCR nor a TV bigger than a frying pan. So we're considering the combos against our better judgement. I guess the VCR is a moot point because right now they cost about as much as a pair of shorts from Abercrombie, so no biggie. But our TV is about a 13 inch screen, if not less, and sufficient for only a midget pigmy's viewing. Alas. What do you think?

********
I posted new photos last night in the pics section, including the two pictures of my crying bout with cereal this weekend. I think the worst part was when Eleanor tried to offer me her life's savings to stay another night in Seattle. That really got me going.

I also worked quite a bit on a new layout last night. It might just suck my balls, but I'll post it here in this entry later today when I get the inlaid image uploaded to the server. Tell me if it's too blah and I should just stick to the one I have. I know this one doesn't work in some browsers, but I guess that's life.

brought to you en enspanol
someone translated my page into Spanish. It's... strange...

system maintenance
Done:
Updated Schedule
Updated Bio
Updated Work
Updated Poetry Page (All links work now)
Added Weatherpixie below Links (is this annoying or cool?)
Updated Quote and Title
Added some blogs to "people I know"
Took down links to non-updated blogs
Updated YACCS comments script

To Do (tonight):
Updating Photos and adding new photos
Test other Java window links- ** let me know if you still can't open the windows in the "about" section **

In Planning Stages:
New "Waiting for Rain" Template
Kat Cam (@ work in Fenton)
Mexican Orgy

Bridging the Gap
Oh yah. I'm back... working the Micro beat, on the AppleTalk Mod Squad... it's good to be geek, it's good to be girl. This makes the world go 'round. Working 8-5 will be good I think. Today feels about right, and I've gotten a lot accomplished. I even managed to go work out on my hour lunch break. This is a plus and possible mostly because I can actually EAT any time I want to, it doesn't have to be from 12-1. Getting up at 7AM bites my ass but I think I can manage. In any case, I got my office set up again and I'll probably have a webcam sometime soon. Betcha'll love that.

Oh, and as for the dramatics of last weekend. Justin covers them much better. I promise I'll post the funny pictures of me weeping over cereal. I still haven't opened the box, it would be too tragic.

In other random news, due to the recent rains, the grass pollen count is down to around FREAKING FOURTEEN. As opposed to ... 658 last week. HA! Weeds, you cannot kill me! Give it your best shot! So I'm fully functional again able to work and play with the best of em.

Last night Justin and I had a dinner party with some acquaintances. Not a fake, college, "we're so cool, tee-hee, we're having a dinner party" dinner party... but a real life scary grown up dinner party. He made beef stew, I made salad, they brought corn bread, I cleaned the house and put on background music, they brought wine. We drank wine, ate cornbread (DAMN GOOD CORNBREAD), stew, salad and then after eights and fro-yo with berries for dessert. I'm not sure if this is the scary part or if the scary part is who the hostees were. They're both really nice people and I like them a lot. I think we get along fabulously... Justin just met them both and I only knew the gentleman. I met him at the rec center (you remember the story about Emanuelle Beart?) and we later talked a lot more. He's very casual, intellectual, nicely attractive older guy. I was a little nervous that he was flirting with me but he told me he was married. Nice of him or else I would have had to crash his party. So after I talked to him for a while, he suggested that Justin and I come watch some French films with he and his wife at their house or go hiking with them on Spencer's Butte. Since they're going out of town for a while at the end of this week, and last night was rainy and icky, we figured it would be a good time for a movie. So Justin invited them for dinner and we went to see 'The Cat's Meow' (good film, btw) at the Bijou. The get together was really quite fun and we all chatted each other up for a long time- Rupert entertained- and the age gap wasn't even that apparent. I think that the lady, who I just met, is probably 28 but her husband is 37... and that's what strikes me as funny. Justin and I are 'couples friends' with another adult, older couple who wants to hand out and do "grown-up" things with us. Despite the fact that they know I'm an undergrad, etc, etc. It's all very normal, I suppose but given my fear of becoming domesticated I find something CREEPY about it. I'm glad it went well though, I think we managed to make a good impression and at least pretend to be civilized. ^^ Oh man... it's hopeless, we're yuppies. That was some GOOD cornbread, though... and they left us a bottle of wine and some biscotti. That means I get to drink more wine by myself.... Justin won't touch the stuff. Heh. In any case, I have to make sure to thank both of them for a good time and I'm sure we'll get together and do more "grown-up friends" stuff again... I guess it's a balancing force. I can sit on street corners and drink beer with other friends, with these ones I can schmooze. And when we schmooze, Wolf Pup and I schmooze with the best of them. His family taught me that. ; )

Ah, micro... we're now feasting on Almond Roca, it's quite tasty. Gotta love working here. Sara just passed off to me a book titled "The Rules: Time tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right." She says I should browse through it and laugh... I'll be horribly offended. Apparently it's ridiculously hypocritical and the woman who wrote it just was divorced. Should be entertaining. I'm also reading "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" for the second time. Actually, first, I never finished it in high school... and I think my taste in reading has become more sophisticated since then. I have more of a tolerance for high-falootin philosophy and abstract mind-plots after some of the required readings in my classes. Things I normally wouldn't touch have become fascinating. Plus, this book is a cult classic so how can I pass it up? I wish I felt the same way about Star Wars but I can only appreciate it as a genra. The most recent two have absolutely sucked... even for entertainment value... and the "classics" are just that: classic. I'm a complete heretic. I don't like Star Wars and George Lucas needs another scriptwriter. So I'll take my stuff and go straight to hell ; ) I'm entitled to my opinion, be it not humble.

Well, this entry is random and not very deep. I guess that's the way life is. Oh, now we're in for it...

I had this thought today, while in the gym (you might begin to suspect it's the only time I'm free enough to think) that I find it hard not to believe in fate, or at least in some equation for life, as un-romantic as it sounds. It's too difficult to see life as a set of random occurrences... one thing invariably leads to another and there's never any going back. One small sleight of hand can lead to great changes years down the line. How this can't mean anything is beyond me...

I spent a great part of the drive home Sunday, after my hysteria and before I fell asleep, feeling very adolescent. The emotion wasn't quite anger, fear, joy, love, or sorrow but was a great part of each. I felt detached from the world, like I was made of music and inside a dream. Like I, the physical me, wasn't real... that I was only my essence and not a part of what is real. This is how I spent the greater part of my teenage years, feeling this way. Completely intense in a magic way but entirely unstable, not grounded, head in the clouds. I used to say that I wanted "something real," that I was going to "find the real world." When I said this, I didn't mean I was looking to sell out... I meant I was looking to find a place where I could ground myself and become someone who I could believe in- something more than a dream. I've found that person and I believe in her. I can see through the haze. I know that what's "real" isn't something concrete or something systematic or logical... it's as much an abstract haze as that adolescent dream and while it's not always as 'intense', it's as wondrous and as beautiful in as many ways.

Post Script: Katie (you may remember her as "cape girl katie" ; ) has a weblog now, called Cries and Whispers. So go check it out!

Blasphemy!
Hurrah, it's raining! That means... I CAN BREATHE!!! Oh thank you, God...

I'm tired. Not just physically but emotionally tired. This weekend was two early mornings, two late nights and some high powered (but classically boring) graduations in-between. Saturday I went to my mom's graduation from Lake Washington Technical College. I'm really proud of her for completing her degree, especially because it took her longer than her other classmates and the program she was in has now been cancelled. She graduated with a degree in Library/ Information services and a Microsoft Office certificate- she's employed by the City university library now, a job that she actually got with her degree and the first job she's had in nineteen years. Sunday morning was Justin's graduation. Got up, I think, at 7AM after a late and rather depressing conversation the night before about the legitimacy of my wanderlust. Had a hard time getting up that morning. Justing graduated with a BA in Chem and a degree in Humanities. They had to make a special symbol for Jason, who was the only one in his class graduating with three degrees. Heh. Seattle U's graduation ran from about 9 to 1 and then we had a bit o' lunch with some of Justin's old friends in Seattle. By the afternoon I was just ridiculously tired but still had some errands to run. I went down to factoria with the sibs to return a tank top to Old Gravy (which is the only store we lack in Eugene) and pick up a rose for Justin and the Safeway. The three of us, in all our giddy glory ended up scouring the safeway for goofy gifts to get for Justin. My parents gave him a $50 check. This is more money than they've given ME for the last few months. Hell, ever except on request. NYAAH. Anyway, I gave Justin a red rose with a "Get Well: YOU SICK FREAK" card and Liz gave him a mylar fish balloon on a stick (called Albert). Alyson crowned him Burger King... she was pissed that I made her go into the Burger King to get one of those cardboard crowns though. So we came in the door and I gave him the rose and said "congratulations!" as Allie put the crown on his head. Then, Liz said 'it's ofFISHal" and gave him Albert. He gave us the strangest look. There really is no controlling us girls when we're together. It's surprising I'm marraigeable at all.

Dad made thai food and it was after 8 by the time we were attempting to go. By that point I was so tired I didn't even want to go but the thought of missing work and sacrificing the extra cash made me start to freak out... I just wanted to sit down and go to sleep. You remember being a kid and sometimes just getting so tired you cried? and cried about really stupid stuff? Well, I kind of broke down. Royally. Justin was consoling me and I started babbling about really random things, just because they upset me more. Then my sisters and my dad came downstairs... but did I pull myself together? nooo... No, I just clutched my cereal box and bawled about how tired I was.... and my financial aid.... and mister rogers... and summertime.... and my cat.... and when I started laughing and crying so much I couldn't breathe justing brought me a plastic bag to stop me from hyperventillating and I started crying AGAIN because using a plastic bag to breathe into made me think he was trying to kill me. Really, half the time I was cracking up and the other half of the time I was bawling... it was great. SO CLEANSING!!! And everyone was so nice to me... but mean enough to take pictures. I'll post them, really, I will. Finally I got it all out of my system and we left around nine. Got bacj to Eugene 2-ish and by then we were both grumpy. I ended up saying "screw work" and slept in this morning to do a half day. C'est la vie.

Ah, I guess it's summertime though. I had barbequed chicken and corn on the cob twice this past weekend. I'm eating less and have more energy and all my friends are opening up. Time to be alive. It's a shame, though, that most people I know are going "home" this summer. The past two weeks have been more fun than the rest of the year... it's a shame. *sighs* Ah well...

a short hiatus
I'm up in seattle for the weekend (see last post) and won't be back till late Sunday night. Excuse the lack of fervent posting until monday, when all shall resume as normal.

My three younger sisters and I had quite the girl party last night. One of Liz's friends was over (I like this one) and brought her N64. We ended up playing Smash Bros. and Pokemon Tourneys until about 1 in the morning. Too bad I suck... there's no hope for the Ortland girls. We were all raised without consoles. Alas, all our hand dexterity must come from other things.

Tonight Justin and I dine at the Yacht club with his mom and Ted. Tomorrow he graduates. Yesterday we drive up from Eugene early, left about 8:30 and heded up to Nisqually for a Middle School show. On the way we stopped at a rest area and a group of four friends was doing Tai-Chi under the trees. It was very serene. Being up and out that early gave me a craving for a road trip. It's sad, really... the only two true road trips I've been on (true being defined as over 3 days on the road) have been with parents and sibs. It's college now, time for something REAL. There's nothing like getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and hitting the road, stopping for diner breakfast and driving till it gets dark. There's a magic quality to the world in the early morning. Getting up still hurts if ya don't have enough sleep but everything in the morning is so fresh and NEW. It makes me feel like I've already won, getting up and getting started early. Getting on the road and just taking everything IN. Going but not in a hurry... looking just to see. I love the road... it's in my blood. It's a shame I'm poor and indebted, I'd love to just take off this summer but I have to blasted work full time. Alas. There may be room for it yet...

Now back to the family.

Hot Nasty XXX Weblog Action!
Did you know that according to some evolutionary psychologists, my writing this weblog is a simple indicator of my instinctive drive to show off my mental fitness and thus ensure the best possible mating opportunities? If there's anything I got out of Evolution, Cooperation and Ethics (HC Colloquia) last term, this is it. Cool.

Actually, after digging through my closet last night (I'm home in Seattle) and finding some precious goodies- letters, pictures, keepsakes, etc- I think I came to the comclusion that the purpose of this weblog is more than making my unconscious conscious or publishing my dirty secrets to the world, it's a sort of scrapbook. I put snapshots in here that I want to remember. Whe I have a thought that I find valuable, I catalogue it here for later reference. Because it's important to me in some way. I'm a packrat, that's how I work. Sometimes it's annoying, I accrue endless amounts of stuff but I know that the stuff means something to me. Granted, I can't always remember what it means, like last night when I looked at a small, green, plastic snake from my scrapbook bag and wondered for five minutes WHY I kept it... but I know there must have been a reason. And I'm glad for the keeping. Things are always there when I need them.

But this has the difference of being both public and private. Sometimes I hesitate before writing something, like last entry. I almost didn't publish that, or even compose it... until I realized the importance of the thought in my mind. I don't want to lose that... I'm always afraid of forgetting something important that I think. And I ususally do, unless I write it. I'm not too worried what people think, although sometimes I am. It's more a matter of assessing the importance of something internal to the mind and finding it valuable enough to be a keepsake.

I do have a curious tendency to treasure the past. I realized yesterday that I don't get over things as well as I should. I'm not a normal "pack it up and move it on" kind of gal. I'm forgiving and progressive, but I mull over things. It has to do with a firm belief that everything means something. The problem is that when I'm dwelling on something, I'm often unsure whether it's an indicator that I need to take action to solve my cognitive dissonance at the risk of disrupting current circumstances or simply go with the flow until things resolve themselves. And there's the rub... to move or not to move- to play the game or to wisely spectate- that is the question.

Remember the RFUC (Really Fucked Up Club)?
Well, I didn't... and how stupid of me to have forgotten. But all things come full circle and we face the past eventually, with an eye toward to future. Man, those were the Golden Days of high school drama. I'm not sure what's more tempting, to paint two years up as a "long" time ago or as if it were just yesterday, breathing over my shoulder. I guess I should explain.

Last night for some reason (and I don't dare call it a stupid reason) I put my old burned file disc into Frederick and took a look at the past. I have a lot of letters to friends and loved ones stored on there and, to my surprise, found that I had saved my icq log for... every conversation I think I I had with Justin from 9/99 to 8/00. This meas I did the saving on 8/11 but probably didn't have it in mind before that date. I didn't have a lot of things in mind when we started talking. But looking through this log was really.... enlightening... in hindsight. It's no use quoting from it or even dropping anecdotes, anything that would mean something is probably too complicated or too much of an "in-joke" to explain but... damn... it was like taking a trip in a time machine. 1999 was when we just met and had five word conversations. "See you this weekend?" "Ok." He saved me from my family in Seattle; made me appreciate them for who they are. We started dating Spring 2000 under...uhm... circumstances rivaling Dawsons Creek (you really have no idea... or maybe you do?). So this log went from when we barely knew each other through the end of the summer before Freshman year of College... the entire evolution of our relationship from the humble beginning through the most intense part. I couldn't stomach the whole thing, there was just too much there- it was too long, too intense sometimes, too strange others. Sometimes I had no freakin idea what we were talking about. Other conversations brought back times and days and feelings I'd entirely put away. It's funny how you forget. Hindsight really is twenty-twenty. But what really struck me, and why I'm glad I came across the log, was the uncanny feeling of dissociation. It was like reading someone else's life. Like looking at a book and wanting to yell at the characters. "Hey, stupid!! Hey, hello!!!" Like knowing the characters like part of YOURSELF but still being someone entirely different. God, how I've changed.

It's amazing. I always feared changing. I liked myself how I was back then. Every now and then I get some glimpse of myself through some letter or poem or stream-of-consciousness that I wrote some years ago and I wish I could have my mind in that moment all to myself. I read these things and I envy myself for writing them because sometimes I feel so dry. But I know I write things like them still so I haven't completely changed. Maybe it's not change, Kat. Maybe it's growth.

People are funny. We do insane things for insane reasons. Once again, I deign not to say stupid. I don't feel stupid right now, I feel wiser. I found another log too. One between other people, two friends at the end of a line. I hadn't been able to read through the whole thing (though it's short) on any occasion in the past, I read it like a picturebook this morning and I saw. I understood everything said and I knew that we weren't as blind as we let on. It didn't hurt though, this time. It wasn't hopelessly tragic. It just was. And I got it, finally. It's a wonderful thing, not living in denial. It's a wonderful thing, this learning but it's a terrible thing getting here. That's why I say people are funny. We aren't stupid, we're really quite smart. We know and we can't stop anyway. We're in perpetual motion. We are forces of gravity. Except we are alive and craving the experience. When common sense tells us to fuck off and go mind our businesses, we stick our feet right in. When familiar wisdom says "you know that's bait...", we take it anyway. Why? Because we have to. That's what makes us human. (In particular, me, as I've learned.) We gather information from experience and often, we tend to ignore information given to us that would substitute for our direct experience. We need it firsthand. We put ourselves through hell just to know what it looks like. That doesn't mean we're masochistic or sadistic... it just means we're alive and we keep on living. Better for it all? Who the fuck knows... just... different, if we're lucky. If we pay attention. So this is what it's all about, paying attention. You have to pay attention because it's all circular and if you didn't pay attention the first time you were supposed to learn something, you have to get your ass kicked by it again. This is what hindsight is. I have to admit, I'm a little confused though... if we do grow and we do use the past like a pathway (I daren't say staircase or ladder, since god knows it's not all up) but we're still perpetual motion machines and we'll STILL do things for our own sakes, what's the point of having hindsight at all?

Hm. Well, as usuall, writing it out it seems to make more sense. You learn from what you do, right? You do what you haven't learned from. So the more experience you glean, the less likely you're to be a perpetual motion machine and the more likely you are to be sage. If someone were ever to tell me to stop dwelling in the past, I might have to cap them. I'm not dwelling in the past. I AM the past. Every moment that passes becomes a part of me. To understand me, I have to understand these moments. There are a lot of moments, some more important than others. Some I question on a daily basis, so much that they are still an active part of me and integral to determining not only who I am but who I'll be. This is why I study the way people interact, why I collect them and keep them in my pockets... because we are so funny and so worth it and so real. So what does this mean for those we call "truly wise," say, monks? They start off life by learning from conventional wisdom. They're cloistered and sheltered and somehow still come to enlightenment... but not by gravity, not by the laws of physics. I've always respected that lifestyle because it's something so different from the way I work. But at the same time it's so ethereal, so far from life itself. I wonder, then... is transcendence worth it? You tell me. I much prefer getting my hands dirty.

"The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth,
the more real and truthful they become.
Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air,
to soar into the height, take leave of the earth and his earthly being
and become only half real- his movements as free as they are insignificant.
What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?"

Milan Kundera- The Unbearable Lightness of Being

It makes one feel old, seeing the circle. But that's what life is. It is moons and cycles and birth and death. We grow and change but we're still young and old at once, going somewhere and never arriving. I'm not a member of the RFUC anymore. I don't even feel like one. Right now, I live a normal life, save some unchanging pshilosophical and romantic quests. I'm both satisfied and unsatisfied. I'm stable and unstable. Right now I don't feel change coming but who knows, it could be here tomorrow. It could be here in the moment that is now. I am always on the brink, whether I see it or not. I'll probably hook up with some RFUC members later in another time, in another place... and we'll have reason to join forces again. After all, all things come full circle...

Venus_Eclipse 3/23/00 7:11 PM

RAIN (Diana Der Hovanessian)

Rain undoes the stone
unfastens grass.
Nothing is permanently
attached to bone.
Neither epoxy
nor promises last.

But I keep those inflections
you telephoned to wear
with your frown on rainy days.
There is another you
I have invented from your name
and cemented to my bones forever.

let rain say nothing stays.

Hi Ho Hi Ho...
This post is NOT meant to be a complete suck-up... I really am QUITE pleased!
Whoo, so much work-related controversy these days surrounding email privacy, IMs, and blogs. Just found out today that my boss reads my blog. Well, I'd suspected ; ) That being said...

I totally have the best boss in the world!! I've been working for Microservices for two years now in various ways shapes and forms and I've really gotten to know and love the people there. I feel entirely priveleged to work for them. I'm not kissing up or being sarcastic here, let me explain. Microservices is the University of Oregon tech support desk. Basically we service the whole school's faculty, staff, and students in some way. Except the law school, they're yuppie separatists who have their OWN techies. I've been working as a consultant for the math and theatre departments for a year now. This basically means that I have a desk in the department and people call me if they need help with anything, we set up a time, and I go take a look. Some problems difficult; some easy. It's been fun so far. I was really hoping, earlier this year, to continue working the position over the summer... but, boss-man said he was probably going to be over-staffed and short on budget so, lamentedly, I deigned to work 20 hours a week at my job and try to find other campus work. At first, I couldn't. A similar position in the Honors College rejected me for not wanting to defect to them year round. I couldn't find anything non-work study. SO I was pissed. But then I sent a few of the good-lookin work-study positions an email and it turns out that they weren't work study at all. One was a tech position at the campus Department of Public Safety and another a tech position at the Law School. And can you believe it, they fought over me! Finally, the Law school came up with the best offer- $10 and hour for full-time summer work. So I said hell, I'll do it. And today I packed up the computers from my department and prepared to say bye to micro for the summer. The boss-man is also cool because he appreciates the college mentality. He knows that people leave during the summer and guarantees them their job back. He also understands that $$ is an incentive so he had no problem with me looking elsewhere.

Today, however, I was at the end of the year staff pizza party (another reason Micro is cool, for the staff LAN and pizza parties) and he informed me that I could, indeed, work for him full time this summer. This so r0xx0rs... mostly cause it means I don't have to go learn the ropes somewhere else, meet and get accustomed to a whole new herd of geeks, and worry about impressing a new boss. I like where I am. I like the people, I like the job, I know I can do it. Everyone has a great sense of humor, which is a real qualification in my book.

Anyway, more reasons my boss is great: he seems to honestly understand college students (that, or he just thinks like one ; ). We work for him but he works WITH us. He doesn't get offended if we ask questions and he makes completely reasonable concessions if one of his employees needs a day (or week) off. I can honestly say that in all the (odd and plentiful) jobs I've worked, I haven't been under better management and I don't take that for granted. I really owe you guys! I'm glad that I'll be able to keep working there this summer... even if it means lugging my crap back over to Fenton and up the stairs. x-D ugh.

Just please don't ever fire me for being a superfreak! ; )

Death, Taxes and.... Allergies
Oh holy sweet lovin Jeesus. Please let it rain. Please, god, let it rain.

I hate rain. But I hate ALLERGIES more.

And allergies hate me. Allegra is my new best friend. I've never stayed here all summer before and I'm beginning to F33R the coming month.

Eugene is number one for pollen count in the whole freaking nation.

Would you like to know why? Look at our god damn grass pollen count. Oh whimper. View my demise. Now I know why allergies started on the 31st for me. No FRIKKIN wonder!

Another month of this? Fuck. Kill me, please. That graph is a few days behind, the highest indicator in the mid- 200s... today is at 523. F33R. Death. Starting today I post the pollen count and graph its inverse relationship to my happiness. I want to go home.

However, if you look up last year's grass pollen count on the aaaai.org website, it predicts I should be alive again by July. Phew.

embarrasing...
OK, so this is slightly embarrasing. My heath-consciousness is seeping into my dreams.

Last night I dreamt I was at a store with this girl (I really have no clue who she is) and among other things happening, I spent the majority of the dream in the frozen foods aisle looking for popsicles. I've had this huge craving for good popsicles lately, though I hadn't really thought about what kind. In the dream, however, I was determined only to buy popsicles that were 100% fruit juice and I couldn't find any that were the kind with sticks. This really pissed me off because I was sure I could see some in the back. The only kind they had that were all fruit juice were Otter Pops (the irony here being that Otter Pops are notoriously NOT fruit juice... they burn when you eat them) and I didn't want them. I couldn't find any frozen yogurt either. At all. It was rather disappointing. God, I'm such a freak!!!

Yahoo!
I am SO done. Okay, well... not much changes. I stay here all summer. I work full time. I travel a little. Yay.

But... I'm DONE with Sophomore year... not an underclassman anymore, unofficially a senior. It's preeeety fuckin sweet, if you ask me.

I'm tired tho. Time to kick back and watch some Trigun or something.

Random Deflowering
My ride didn't pick me up for mentoring today so instead I walked over to the school of music to pick up some information and maybe a poster for the Bach Festival. On the way across the school of music lawn, a somewhat scraggly guy directed a comment my way. Immediately, my guard went up but I politely replied, "pardon?"

"You enjoying this weather?" He asked again.

I was a little surprised. "Yes, very much, it's wonderful!" I said. "Did you know there's a partial solar eclipse today?"

"Really? No.." he mumbled. He was holding a white and pink rose in his hands. I was about to say "ciao" and veer over to the school of music- I needed to be going a different direction but he obviously thought we were walking together. He stopped me as he continued, holding up the flower. "Smell this," he said, "it smells just like sweet raspberries." Okay... I smelled it, but thought it a little flustering that he was offering me to smell his rose. I smiled and waved and headed over toward the school of music, hoping he wasn't thinking I was waving him away. "Here!" he called, and gave me the rose, "for you."

Wow. Well. Um. Kay... I'm socially inept. "Thanks," I said... and went on my way, rather pleased and kind of embarrased. He seemed genuinely nice and here I had him pegged for some shallow weirdo. I guess I walk around with my guard up so often that I forget to take it down. I felt stupid and rather rude for not talking to him longer, or even offering my name. I miss the cues sometimes, I get flustered and feel guilty and botch it all up. I'm no master of conversation or of subtlety. It was a nice moment though, and I suppose it did, in a way, make my day. It was life's way of saying "here, slow down, appreciate what's in front of you." So I did. For a time.

I walked home and cut across one of the bike paths to seek out a shortcut to the BMX ring alongside Autzen. I found the shortcut but also some unpleasantness as I came out. I heard the screeching of tires and someone leaning on a horn quite angrilly, followed by some shouting. I assumed someone had cut off a redneck coming out of the BMX park. I was wrong. It was a redneck but one very angry with his son, who had come to the park without permission. The poor kid got shoved into the van and, tires squealing and spitting gravel everywhere, his father sped away. I heard him yelling "Well you find out life fucking SUCKs, son!" and I knew the kid was dreading the beating he was going to get later that night. It scared the bejeezus out of me, knowing that people treat their kids that way.

Well, we just had an enjoyable little viewing of the partial eclipse and now we're off to dinner at Poppis Anatolia with Murray and friends.

Boredom
I found something to amuse me!
Build your own South Park dude... it's endlessly entertaining!
Thx to WWDN and the guy he got it from.

Peeping Toms
Amusing story from this morning...
I had closed the shades early this morning because there were landscapers and maintenance guys out on the lawn right below the window. It kind of irked me that they could see in. So eventually I got out of bed and headed to the shower, quite naked. At that point I heard a noise outside and kind of got the urge to peek out the curtains. The bedroom window looks out onto the balcony so I figured I'd be a safe distance from visual range. "I'll bet if I peek out the curtains right now, there'll be some guy on a ladder looking in the window at me..." I said, jokingly. Well... um, there was. A maintenance guy had just climbed up a ladder and was about to get onto our balcony. Fortunatley for me (unfortunately for him) he wasn't paying attention but probably figured out what happened because I immediately squealed and started cracking up and dancing around like a kid. It was hilarious. I couldn't stop laughing. Thankfully, the blinds were closed. I'm not sure WHAT they were doing on the balcony, but I saw a few more on other people's balconies this morning. Perverts. I guess Chase is getting ready to repaint the buildings. Mmmm... paint smell. Now I can be involuntarily high all the time.

Saa, a slow week for me. Two finals tomorrow, neither of which I'm particularly worried about, and work. Work slow... Kat surf... Kat write in weblog waaaaay too much. Kat feel better. Ah yes, I do feel better. After last night's IHOP trip (Murray, Katie and I) was a success... got some venting out and ate some YUMMY pancakes - can you believe I've never had pancakes at IHOP before?- and about a pitcher of decaf. MMMMM....

You're right, cc... I will travel, I have to travel. It's in my blood, I think. It's my freedom. Murray and I have decided to drive out to the east coast this september and meet some people out there. Tho it's tentative and probably will fall through, it sounds like a dream to me. Knowing the east coast schools though, they'll all be in session then- which is lame. Maybe we should go earlier, Murr. Oh, and Happy Birthday, you old fart. (He's 20)

Interesting story sent to me by one of my readers about the rift among bloggers. I guess I do whine too much. I guess it's what you make it. I still have a hard time appreciating political blogs, though I guess I'm jealous of their following. That sort of stuff just isn't important to me- but it doesn't mean it isn't important to other people. Sometimes I get a little condescending (about this among many other things) I know. I don't want to ACT like I'm better than other people (of course, we all want to be better than other people, it just isn't polite to say it) or give people the impression that I think I'm The Sh!t. I'm not. I don't know anything... I'm just trying to do something meaningful with my life, the only way I know how.

Awwww.... big hug! Don't we all feel better! *chuckles* Happy monday... welcome to Finals Week.

****************************************
For there have been things I have taught
Which, in speaking I understood I scarce knew
Save for the rooted remnants of dreams and visions
And therefore could never lose them, but never learn them.

I asked for no place and found one had been made for me
Laid out in perfect form, fitted to me body and soul
I knew not what I had been raised to know
But another world entirely...
******************************************

ya just can't win
And if you're trying to cut me down
You know that I might bleed
Cause if you're trying to cut me down
I know that you'll succeed
And if you want to hurt me
There's nothing left to fear
Cause if you want to hurt me
You're doing really well my dear

Now everyone of us was made to suffer
Everyone of us was made to weep
But we've been hurting one another
And now the pain has cut too deep...
So take me from the wreckage
Save me from the blast
Lift me up and take me back
Don't let me keep on walking...
Walking on broken glass

Walking on walking on broken glass

(Annie Lennox- Walking on Broken Glass)
Some depressing lyrics for a rather chipper song... just read some old emails I sent Justin last november in the middle of the Depo related depression. Holy shit did I sound bad. I'd publish them but I don't know if that's a good idea. It's a mess just to be reminded. I'm gonna go lament over decaf with Murray and Katie at IHOP. Justin doesn't get back until 2AM... I hope I'll be able to wake up enough to appreciate his company. Jeez... man, what is up with me? Hormones or is it something deeper? Curses on my dreams and all their subliminal inferrences...

Just Looking
Why is it that whenever I go by Auzen Stadium there are usually cars standing in front of it, in the street? The're often in the center lane or bike lanes, but sometimes stopped in the middle of the street and the people inside are just... looking... at the construction. Sometimes they have binoculars. They're always there for some unusual amount of time, like it isn't just a stadium. What the hell, people!?!? It's a stadium! It's being operated on! Sure, it's cool but what are you wasting your time for? I guess I'm grumpy cause they're in my way and I see it every day. It's still weird...

Live, Nude Cats
All live, all nude, all cats... all the time
See for yourself.

my mind, the sieve
Funny how sleep can sweep your feet out from under you.

I don't like sleeping alone, it makes the dreams come back. Granted, they're all pretty good dreams but damn are they a mindfuck. I think I have them occasionally when Justin is here but I can blow them off when I wake up. Now I'm left feeling... haunted... and kind of dirty. Just yesterday I was confident of my place, saying that I don't have a foot in the door. Maybe this is my mind's way of chastizing me for being so cocky. Maybe it's my lot to live with one foot in the door; one foot on either side of the door, even. If I'm not a traitor then my mind makes me one. God, ugh, I'm a bit of a wreck... but less than you'd guess from reading this. Really, the feeling is more of that beautiful/ terrible feeling I was describing the other week. It's a sadness and a wonder and a love. I just don't understand it so I fear it. I try to embrace it and every social convention I believe in goes against it. I'd just run with it but it'd leave me alone and hated again.

See, when I'm asleep, my mind tries to give me everything I want. It makes me happy, it makes me giddy... but it doesn't realize that when I wake up, I'm pretty despondent and disgruntled with reality. But I've learned to treasure the lingering feeling from all these dreams, even if it does make the day meloncholy. I guess I'm lonely. Justin will be back tonight after I hit the sack... that will be nice. Another few days and we can take another trip to Seattle together for his graduation. But... arrrgh... dreams are powerful things. They can change the way you think about someone, and I'd rather they didn't right now. I'd rather live my little life contended and away from the goddam drama for a while. I think I'm cursed. Where's a priest when you need one? (hell, I don't need one to confess, maybe to set on fire...) I'm all burning inside and the only thing that helps soothe the flames (music) only makes it worse. Damn playlist in my head...

Pink- Don't Let me Get me
Dave Matthews Band- #41 (I'm surprised I don't get nauseous hearing this song... I have a strange history with it)
Michelle Branch- All you wanted
Poe- Haunted
Vanessa Carlton- A Thousand Miles

etc. etc... gimme a break. What evolutionary purpose does this damn melodrama serve? I'd blow it all off but I cherish it too much. Damn self-perpetuating cycles.

I've been wondering if I should just shut up and try something a little more sophistique. I mean, what do I talk about here? My thoughts, my feeeelings, my life. Sure, all of this is really important to me now... but when I look back in a few years, won't it all be tripe like all my other journals? Why don't I write about something sassy and cosmopolitan using big words and fancy script like, say... politics or culture or wines or porn? I'd certainly have more of an audience. Or I might, I suppose. I'm getting to be part of a pretty big network as is, of a type of blog I'm proud to host. I certainly prefer this introspective mentality over the obsessive fanzines or petty social conversations too many blogs seem to be. I like anime, sure. I've got an impressive repetoire. But my wetdreams about Kenshin only extend so far, thank you! So politics and pop-culture, eh? I suppose I could write some commentary in some sister-ste somewhere, maybe make a name for myself. Maybe become a real web-journalist. But no. For all that effort, what would I have in a few years? Tripe! I suppose if it all ends the same way, this is where I'd rather be; where I'm most (or least?) comfortable- with myself.

the smell of rain
I have a weakness for flirting. Before you ooh and aah at me for being a sorostitute let me tell you: it's old news. The problem is that I don't consider it flirting... the other party does. Generally, I like talking to guys. I'll label them men if they're lucky, which they're usually not. I've met one man recently but he approached me and usually it's the other way around. But Cole's married and he and his wife want to be grow-up friends with Justin and I and do things such as watch french movies and go hiking. So that ended well and quite flatteringly. Usually not so. As I said, I have a weakness for flirting. Conversation with guys other than my boyfriend in which I don't tell them I'm seeing someone. I guess this makes talking flirting cause they always end up asking me out. It's happened so many countless times this year and I both love and hate it. Note that at no point in these said conversations do I come onto or compliment said guys, I only talk to them pleasantly about whatever the hell we're talking about. I like to meet people, I smile (or I don't smile and I leave if they're creeps) and I laugh and I probably blush. It's all very normal. Except that I have the nasty habit of not mentioning I'm seeing someone... it's how I know I'm flirting. It just doesn't come up. I either avoid it or forget it. It really is a conversation-stopper.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be single and go fishing here. The idea makes me nauseous and I don't think I'd be capable if I WERE single. But I'm not and I like where I'm at. I feel good, I feel confident, I have both feet on the ground and a friend to keep me warm. Every now and then it just feels good to toss off a pretentious conversation with a stranger, just to stretch those wings. It's as far as I've ever had the desire to go these past two years and as far as I intend to stray from home. I don't have a foot in the door in this relationship. After the last conversation on the bridge, I realized this. I am where I need to be right now, I'm not moving for a while. When it's time for me to go, he'll know, and I may not go at all. If I look into a future for us, I can see domesticity and a placid, pastoral life if I want it. I see youth and fantasy and security and that glowing, wholesome smile of his. (not to mention the tendency for evil ; ) So I hope he's not offended reading this (nor are you).

I love getting my feet wet, greasing the wheels, being a socialite sometimes. I just wish I didn't feel guilty dropping it like a bomb. Sure, I'll go out to coffee... but... um, I'm seeing someone. I know you were smiling at me in that way because you thought I wasn't. I was just smiling because I was happy you were talking to me, see... um. Sorry. When am I supposed to mention it? To toss it off in conversation kind of ends the game, to toss it off any later is like throwing a brick. They'll call me a player some day, a heartbreaker maybe. They don't know she just like to smile and chat. Is this flirting then? Is that why I get tied up with girlish glee? Another phone number I'll never call.

I never had much practice. Flirting, that is. I wasn't really loved in high school. I found love on the 'net... didn't require much flirting, we got right to the serious conversation. I suppose I flirted with Justin, but we were more friends than anything: it didn't start like that. I never got started with a stranger. I never had self confidence or "presence" until college. Now I seem to have it in spades. It's a blessing and a curse. I learn a lot about people this way, diving into them; I learn about thier good sides and their bad sides. They really show what they want you to see. Sometimes they don't leave when you want them to, sometimes they hang around. I just can't talk to girls, really. I wish I had a posse of guy friends, that's what I really want. I'm not a very good girl... I don't like hanging out with chicks very much, they make me nervous, they don't understand me. Guys are much simpler to deal with, they don't weird me out. I'm much less forgiving with girls- usually I find something I hate about them right away. Funny, it's straight chicks that bug me the most... I'm also much more accepting of lesbians and bi girls. Must be that critical part of me identifies with them.

So I chat up the guys, all friendly-like. I'm a bad person, right? I shouldn't let it get to the coffee invitation. I shouldn't enjoy the game but I do. I'm evil with schoolgirl glee. Yeah, it's in me. But that's about it. I save the rest for the bedroom or for flashing the Alaska-way viaduct.

I spent a lot of today working out and talking at the gym, went to the PC market and bought some ingredients for smoothies and then came home. The house is quiet. Justin's in Seattle for the weekend, he left at 4:45 this morning for Corvallis where he catches a ride with another of the Knights. I like the time to myself, but I draw the line at eating and sleeping alone. It's just too cold and silent. This place is a little too big for just me. I'm a social co-dependent. Rupert feels it and has been trying to get me to play with him all day, but I haven't the energy. He always sticks close to where the people are. Right now he's sleeping under my chair.

When I got home from the store, I sat out front on the stairs with him and watched as the clouds moved in and the rain started to fall. First rain we've had in a while and in those big, summer drops. A few minutes and the ground was soaked and that lovely, musky, dust scent was rising from the earth and from the pavement. It makes my mouth water just thinking about it. I love the smell of rain, there's nothing sexier. I've been thinking about making a list of the things I find sexiest, cause Emily's made me think. Anyway, I sat out there for a while with Rupert before coming in and watching some Trigun and Bebop before dinner. Now I'm trying to study and it's slow going. Murray and I might hit IHop later; we might not.

I'm a bit lonely right now and all this talk about meeting people has made me want to travel. I hate being stagnant. I want to go and to see. I'm really happy where I'm at here in Eugene with my home and my friends and my love and my cat and I'd love to come back to that- but there's always the itch to go and see. I put myself here to think and to study and to live and learn. It's working and I'm glad but part of me wants bigger and more. I'll get it soon enough, I suppose. I want to meet those of you out there who I haven't met yet. I've only met two people from the 'net in person and both of those meetings have changed my life proufoundly for the better. So what are we waiting for?