CBG Update

I was driving to work and saw Coffee Bean Guy pulling out of the CB parking lot. He ended up sitting in traffic behind me, and he knew I was in the car in front of him because he had seen me drive by as he was pulling out and we'd made eye contact (okay, to be honest, I was looking into the lot to see if his car was there when he pulled out). As I covertly watched him in my rearview mirror (he's a nailbiter when he's nervous), I was noting that for an older guy, he's really cute. Even though he drives a 2-door Mercedes, which is kind of a turn off for me (I don't like guys with sports cars. They're usually Peter-Panny and not practical. Boys in four-door sedans? Hot).

It's been over 15 months now that this has been going on. I wonder when we'll actually have a conversation. Let's start a pool. I say February 6th...2007.

In a way, I bet the conversation will be disappointing. This awkward flirtation is probably more fun.

Minutes from Sunday, 4am

I had a really interesting conversation with Aubrey and a guy named Nate in the wee hours of Sunday morning after everyone else had fallen asleep. We were talking about evolution, and Nate said he read an article talking about how, by 2030, robots will be able to process everything that the human mind can, and it'll take another 4 years for them to realize that. I believe the article spoke of an evolution something like this.

And as I was talking about synchronicity earlier, Aubrey and I had just had a conversation earlier in the afternoon about how life on earth is water-dependent, and the first creatures on land, the insects, were able to make it out of the ocean because their evolution figured out that by using exoskeletons to keep the water in, they would be able to survive in what are basically organic space suits. But since the exoskeleton was too heavy on land, the invertebrate system was the way to go. [this is a weak paraphrasing of Aubrey, who is a scientific genius].

We were talking about how groups that come together have a synergistic intelligence that far exceeds individual units, such as cells creating complex organ systems. The same thing happens when people are grouped together, from small villages to mass societies. Intellectual/Intuitive resources are pooled along with the material, and group entities take on their own psyche and will.

Evolution is an agreement among the parts, an agreement whose goal is the survival of the group entity. Previous human focuses have been on scientific studies to improve the human body in order to more sufficiently and efficiently contain each individual piece of the collective for as long as possible. Socially, we have been striving to learn how to communicate and connect with the different pieces that represent parts of this group entity in order to have more resources pooled and expand more greatly. If you break down everything we have done scientifically and socially in the decades since our collective became "conscious" (due to heightened intellectual consciousness and awareness of individual people), our core motivations have been focused on two things: 1. Survival of the species; 2. Dominance of our environment and all elements within the environment.

Since I could write a whole thesis on the motivations of science and society, I'm not going to get into it right now. Just assume that humans have proven to be strongly driven in part by a need to ensure that our physical bodies (what we need to remain "in the game") survive in order to allow our group consciousness to survive.

Considering that we are currently burning through our resources and our continued dependence on oxygen is threatening our survival, our collective focus has suddenly turned to artificial intelligence.

If it is true that computers will one day have the capacity and programming to value judgments using the processing of parameters and data the same way a human mind does (regardless of consciousness), then they could conceivably one day become autonomous intellectual beings. If the next step of artificial intelligence involves evolving to the point where consciousness and "soul" is developed, the human species could very well be on its way to evolving into a different form, one that is not based on a need for oxygen. If this is true, perhaps our obsession with computers and their processes is our collective way of coming up with a better model of "carrier" for the individual pieces of our group entity, thus doing away with the flawed and inefficient system that is the human body in its current form.

Maybe someday, hundreds of years from now, my consciousness and my own collective memory will be in a body that is completely unlike the one I possess now. It's very possible that my consciousness has lived lives as bacteria, but I have no way of remembering the experience because it is completely unlike the current state of my evolution.

Regardless, it can't be denied that we are moving somewhere and there's a purpose. It's so easy to dismiss the trends in human advances as having implications that are too science fiction, or to be too caught up in hyperbolic imagination. I think the truth is that we all move forward, and just as organisms were able to leave the confines of the ocean and humans were able to leave the confines of their continents, we will soon be able to leave the confines of whichever limits we are currently held under. Furthermore, advances made in artificial intelligence also have a huge impact on time/space, as time is the way in which our current intellectual processing is able to keep track of external logic, and is a completely subjective interpretation of the systems outside of us.

There's a lot more about this that we talked about, that I want to talk about, like how our mastery of transportation allowed us to break away from other animals because it broke the time/space rule (an ant can only travel so far in its lifetime, if it tried to walk from one point to another in a straight line from its birth on, versus a human, which has greatly increased its distance versus time with its transportational inventions, thus, actually collapsing space in the time/space continuum). But I can go on forever and the implications of everything are so big that I can only deal with it piece by piece without going on and on and on and getting distracted by the pertinent tangents. Sometimes I wish my brain were bigger or had more processing power.

We also talked about Silver Spoons, that 80s show starring Ricky Schroder and were trying to remember its theme song.

Nate went home and Aubrey and I were ready to collapse as well, but somehow, having a glass of scotch together turned into a scotch tasting. My favorite is still Johnny Walker's Gold Label, even over Blue Label.

Went to bed just after 7am. Woke up cranky. Wished Aubrey and Candice lived closer.

Synchronicity

Every once in a while, I'll suddenly notice how the universe syncs things up.

I've been meeting a lot of people from my past whom I haven't seen in a long time. The funny thing that happens to people you meet along your way but don't see for a long time is, at some point, your mind stops thinking they exist. They become theoretical beings, as real as characters in a book you've read or in a movie you've seen. You accept the presumption that they had a life that continued after you last saw them, but it now becomes abstract, being pieced together in the realm of the imaginary.

Lately, a lot of people from my past have reconnected with me. And it's been really nice, seeing people, talking to them, finding how life is treating them and how they are experiencing reality. But mostly, it's nice to know that while they're on their own path and I can't see them, they still exist.

I think sometimes I feel really alone. That even when I'm surrounded by people, I still feel alone. So in the last few months, I've withdrawn to spend most of my time by myself, to listen to that silence. To see if that feeling still persists. And then I realized something, as I listened. It's not that I feel alone within a crowd because I have so many barriers that I never feel close to people. It's that I'm afraid that when people leave my life, when I no longer see them on a semi-regular basis, I get scared that maybe they really don't exist anymore. That once people disappear from your life, they never come back.

There's a stage in a child's development, where once an object is taken away from the baby's line of sight, they assume it no longer exists and won't be surprised if they look back to that spot and it's no longer there. At some point, I believe our imagination (abstract thinking) becomes more developed and we are able to assume existence of objects even if we are not currently experiencing them as fixtures in our immediate reality.

I wonder if for some reason, I'm still connected to this stage because a trauma occurred there. Somewhere for me, it was reinforced that---once an object disappears from immediate reality, it really may no longer exist. Maybe my parents at some point left me alone for so long that it kicked in a survival instinct that truly thought I was going to die because my nurturers ceased to exist.

So I've been confronting this lately, my fear of saying goodbyes, my fear of getting close to people because I figure that sooner or later, they're going to disappear so it's better not to get too attached, and it gets me kind of down that I would even have to be dealing with this issue. But then I realized that lately, a lot of people from my past are coming back into my life (including Coffee Bean Guy!), reminding me that they're alive and well and most importantly, still exist and want to connect with me, and it makes it so much easier to fathom letting down my guard, and not being so scared that there won't be anyone around in the moment when I really need someone.

It's nice that sometimes the world gently sends you the things you need exactly when you need them.

Random Weekend Notes

(keep in mind that I'm writing this thing at 3:30 in the morning so I'm going to be random and incoherent...for better or for worse).

Early Friday am, had a long conversation with my mother about better communication that would provide more productive results. Calling someone up and condescendingly telling them things such as how to rework the language content of their websites or that they would be hot if they just got liposuction, is not a great way to induce receptivity. Even worse is calling this person up every day with the same conversation. I told her that I appreciate her intentions, but recommended that she ask me what I would like from her instead of assuming I want her to tell me what I need to do in every aspect of my life.

Work was uneventful. Very very uneventful.

Went to Long Beach to see Ed, my friend from college. Got lost because mapquest was WRONG. It always freaks me out when mapquest is wrong. It's like when you're a kid, and you catch a parent in a lie. It freaks you out and you get scared that maybe the world isn't everything it seems... Okay, it wasn't quite that dramatic but I did finally get there and was kind of late and felt bad because it took so long to get there and I figured he was hungry. We went to In & Out Burger which is usually a must stop in California for people not from California. The burgers are above average for fast food burgers, but it's more that it's such an institution, like the Hard Rock Cafe. We headed over to the Yardhouse, which has the most impressive beer menu I've ever seen. I've been to the Yardhouse in Newport Beach, I think, with my cousin. And I was psyched beyond words that they had Saxer's Lemon Lager on tap; I've only been able to find is twice out here, even though it was easy to find in Michigan, despite the fact that it's brewed in Oregon.

They didn't have Saxer's so I tried the Youngberry Chocolate blend which is Lindeman's Framboise & Young's Chocolate Stout. Dude. Awesome. That stuff could make an alcoholic out of me, despite the fact that usually half a beer will get me very drunk and very sleepy.

Ed's an engineer and he's really smart. That's so cool. Talking to him made me really miss college and being able to hang out with a lot of smart, inquisitive people, and just philosophize and theorize about the world at large. I miss people who think about a lot of things, and want to talk about it. I think that's why the blog world is so cool. You can see their thoughts--everything that they keep on the inside but don't want to talk about, all the questions they pose to themselves, which are the same questions you've posed to yourself, alone in your head. People don't talk enough. Blog's are just another way we're trying to talk to each other, because we don't know how, when we're all face to face, in the same room.

Aubrey and Candice came in late and I was supposed to pick them up and take them back to my place, but I couldn't get them on their cells. Later they called and said they were going to hang out late but I was too tired so I just went to bed.

...saturday

Woke up this morning (and I use the loosest definition of morning possible) at 12:40pm. I must have been really tired, and it didn't help that I was emotionally exhausted from having Sarah Clarke who plays Nina on the show 24 in my dream, wrestling with another chick. Okay, that sounds really gay, but it wasn't like that; it was like some tense scene in 24, except in my head it was real and I needed the other girl to win, though I was really hoping she could win without hurting Sarah. And I think Peja Stojakovic was there, because I seem to remember him sitting on my right on the bleachers and we were sitting together quietly, watching these two girls fighting to the death.

Anyway, so I'm a bum. Went to the mall, went and had sushi, went to Lauren's house to hang out with everyone (it's Koo's birthday today!) , went to the Clippers/Warriors game with AD, went to Britannia for Koo's get-together, went back to my place with everyone to chill, and very soon... went to bed.

Today's mood: something big and black

SHIT!

My coworker just called me and was like, "What email were you replying to when you called me an asshole?"

I'm like, "Excuse me?"

He says, "What email were you replying to when you called me an asshole?"

I'm like, "Dude, I didn't call you an asshole. I mean, you are an asshole, but I didn't send you an email calling you an asshole."

He says, "You sent me an email. The subject is E.T. and it just says, 'You asshole.'"

And then it dawned on me.

He had sent me a video clip almost a year ago that showed a guy made up to look amazingly like E.T. getting a blowjob from a chick, from quite an advantageous (or disadvantageous...depends how you look at it) angle, as he lets out these weirdly alien E.T. moans.

And I was highly offended.

Well, my Outlook on my computer had suddenly stopped working right around that time, so I would write these emails and then try to send them, but when they wouldn't go out, I would just leave them in the Outbox. I started accessing my email from a web browser and forgot about the emails stuck in my Outbox.

Last night I was tweaking from too much coffee so I was getting a lot of stuff done, including finally fixing my Outlook. I downloaded a year's worth of old emails onto my computer and totally forgot that a year's worth of random emails that I had drafted and left in Outlook's Outbox folder would also get sent out.

Now I'm freaked out about what else was sent. I have a tendency to write angry emails and then let them sit as drafts to see if I cool down and feel differently. Or sometimes I write emails and wonder if I sound insane, so I leave them and reread them later to see if they're okay. But since my Outlook was broken, I could very well have been leaving them in the Outbox knowing they couldn't get out anyway cuz Outlook couldn't connect to the server.

Well, as Urethra just said, I should just be zen about it. Whatever was sent was sent already. All I hope is that there weren't any personal, embarrassing photo attachments or drunken declarations of love.

The Only Thing More Pathetic Than Dating Down

Boys date up, Girls date down. There are studies. It's been proven. Boys tend to overestimate their looks and worth, therefore going after girls who should be out of their league, while girls tend to underestimate their appeal and settle for boys who shouldn't even be given the time of day. This works out swimmingly for the boys either way (cute boys get hot girls, ugly boys get the decent-looking-but-with-a-heart-of-gold girls). But what about the ugly girls? As Jewel says, "Who will save [their souls]?" Because right now, they're all sitting at home alone, watching Buffy reruns and...listening to Jewel. Lord help them! Make them at least one step cooler by sitting at home alone, making fun of people on the internet.

Anyway, I digress.

Girls date down. It's a fact. We've all done it. Some of us obsessive-compulsively. And if there's a 12 step support group out there that deals with it, please tell me ASAP. A friend of mine would like to know.

But what's worse than dating down you say? What's worse than a girl who's attractive and nice, dating some guy who makes the liquid in her friends' eye sockets curdle? Well, my friend, the next stop on your self-esteem's journey to blowing its brains out is the phenomenon known as: Crushing Down.

Okay, you dated him. "That Guy." He looks like a troll. He's 5 feet tall. He high fives you after sex and refers to himself in the 3rd person. He dumped you because you wouldn't let him spank you. But he's got...nice...skin. And nice skin is quite a hard trait to find these days.

But while that's bad enough, what about when you don't even have enough self-esteem to lust after a top tier icon, when the very rule of Fantasy is that you can have whoever and whatever you want?


*****************Does This Sound Like You? *****************

While other's think about George Clooney, you think about Boy George.
While other's think about Matt Damon, you think about Pat Sajak.
While other's think about Brad Pitt, you think about Jared from Subway.
While other's think about Jude Law, you think about a ham sandwich.
While other's think about Ben Affleck, you think about..........................

Trick example! No one should be thinking about Ben Affleck!

But you get my point. Ladies! It's bad enough that we date down. But when we don't feel worthy enough to even fantasize about having hot monkey love with an A-lister...you really need to be slapped around. When you find yourself lusting after that guy from King of Queens because he has pretty eyelashes, you are in the RED ZONE, lady, and eligible for a damn wicked intervention! When you admire James Gandolfini because he can be surprisingly tender, you need to be CUT OFF and force fed gay porn mags until you can recognize and appreciate a perfectly liposuctioned six pack.

I'm just saying, if we can't get any decent guys in real life because they're off chasing some pipe dream that some supermodel is going to give them the time of day, at least let's crush on someone who meets unrealistic standards, okay?

On a completely unrelated note, check out my favorite site.

PS-- Bill Pullman is only second in deliciousness after this man...

Great site, Kattan!

This He Looks Like Thing

I've been quietly working on the book proposal to publishers for about a month now but I can't use the photos I've got on the site right now because legally, I don't have permission. So...to anyone who wants to see a book of these things, would you be willing to send me some crazy, weird, goofy, funny, dorky photos of you and your friends/family? I don't care if you stage them. Just don't tell me that (and don't be too obvious). I would need the rights to both the photo as well as the image of the person(s), so whoever's in the picture needs to give me the rights to use their image.

Anyway, if you have anything and know the people in it will give me permission, email me and if there's something I can use, I will declare my undying love to you. I know I can get your names in as photo contributors if this project gets picked up. Thanks!

The Return of Coffee Bean Guy

So I finally dragged my butt out of bed early enough to grab Coffee Bean before I went to work this morning. My radio alarm went off to NPR as usual, except today, it came on with Dubya in mid-sentence saying, "--Iraqis. Pull out...and withdraw." I started cracking up. First of all...aren't pull out and withdraw kind of the same concept? And second of all, well...you can probably figure out the second of all.

As I parked my car, I noticed Coffee Bean Guy's car in the lot and got kind of excited. I mean, I haven't seen this guy in months ever since I finally got my own parking spot in our office building and didn't have to park in CB's lot across the street. I did get stopped at a light in front of the place last month and he saw me, smiled and waved.

So I walk in and he's talking to someone but he does a double take when he sees me. As is our relationship, I got too shy to make eye contact so I hurried to the counter and ordered my cappuccino. I went straight to the coffee accessories area and intently grabbed napkins, Splenda, etc. so he walks up and throws away a napkin, trying to get my attention. I'm too shy to look up so he says really loudly, "BYE JOHNNY" to this guy across the room. I can feel him trying to get my attention so finally I glance over and smile but quickly look away. I look back and see him leaving. He pauses at the door and looks at me and we both quickly look away.

What is it about this interaction that makes me so damn giddy? Okay, I know he works at the drug rehab house across the street. Possibly is a former resident there? I don't know. Smokes and drinks coffee like a fiend so that's usually the sign that he's replacing some sort of addiction. He's probably 10-12 years older than me, and acts a bit bizarre in that he's always trying to get my attention and say hi, but he's crazy awkward about it and he never actually comes up and has a conversation with me. I do have to admit though, that he's a damn good dresser, and it's kind of sexy. He was wearing a blue button-down today that's probably my favorite shirt of his, because it brings out his eyes. Anyway, so I was disappointed that yet again, he tried to get my attention but didn't cowboy up and just talk to me.

My order finally came up and I walked out, in time to meet him on the sidewalk as he was heading back into the building. I smile and say, "Hi!" He smiles and says, "Hi" but then mumbles "How are you" into the ground in front of him. But I've already walked past him at this point and am not stopping.

Maybe this sounds egotistical but personally, I don't think he really needed to go back to the Coffee Bean. Because he had said goodbye to people already, yet was headed back in. But after running into me outside, he turned around and walked back to his car instead of going inside. And we've played this game before.

What is it about the mysterious, slightly dangerous men that even smart women fall for?

Six Feet Under Thoughts

I finished Season 2 of Six Feet Under this weekend. It's a really great show as far as the acting. The actors really make the characters incredibly rich and dimensional. I kind of find the woman who plays Brenda to be incredibly unattractive, but her character is interesting. The way she formulates her responses to things, linguistically, is really self-centered and narcissistic. You can see how she says things to illicit pity or sympathy to control the conversation, rather than being vulnerable to hear what may be said that might hurt her. I don't know if she's just perfectly cast for the role (she plays a quintessential unresolved gemini and when I went to check the actress's birthday, lo and behold, she's a gemini. So maybe she's playing what she instinctively knows), or she's an incredible actress who has the psychological consistency of the character down pat. I actually lean towards the former. [sidebar: Peter Krause is a very natural, incredible actor, by the way. I was really blown away by some of his work on this show. I don't know how much character range he has, but he's an emotionally riveting performer. These two do have really good chemistry, probably bring out the best in each other]

This was my favorite scene of the entire series that I've seen thus far. Brenda and Nate have broken up because Nate found out that Brenda was sleeping around all over the place while they were engaged. Nate had also admitted that he slept with an ex-girlfriend and got her pregnant during their relationship. Nate's having brain surgery the next day, so he's going around, putting affairs in order with the people in his life.

Scene Four: Brenda's Apartment, nighttime
NATE sits on BRENDA’s couch. She sits across from him on a chair.

Nate: Okay, so I just wanted to tell you that I think a lot of what you had to say—
Brenda: I’m so sorry.
Nate: Just let me finish. A lot of what you said was true.
Brenda: I didn’t have the right to say anything to you. I’m the one that’s fucked up. I am so fucked up.
Nate: (smiles) Okay. Maybe. Um..But…you were right when you said that being with you made it easier for me to feel so together. That I was ready for something real and you weren’t, and that is just not really true.
Brenda: Nate, I have a serious problem. I think I’m—oh, God, I so don’t want to say this. (pauses, hands him a book) Here.

He looks at it. The cover reads, “Hunger for Love: Facing Sexual Addiction” by Peter Veverka, Ph.D.

Brenda: I’ve been going to these meetings.
Nate: (smiles) I went to one of these meetings once up in Seattle. It freaked me out.
Brenda: Why?
Nate: Just the people. It seemed like a cult.
Brenda: No. W-what made you go?
Nate: (exhales) I thought it might apply.
Brenda: Well, it says in the book that, once you realize what it is, and you work really hard, you can—people have this whole new experience of love. (timidly) Some people, I mean.
Nate: So…what?

Long pause.

Brenda: I really love you. And I don’t think I would have done what I did if I didn’t really love you.
Nate: That’s a very…strange thing to say.
Brenda: But I think it’s true. It was the fear of…feeling something real.
Nate: Okay. (nods, takes this in) I love you, too.

Tears fill her eyes. He smiles.

Nate: I guess I just wanted you to know that even though you really pissed me off.

She gives a small smile and looks down.

Nate: I mean, I still get so angry if I let myself think about it—
Brenda: Of course you do. Of course—
Nate: But I felt like this was something. Being with you made me feel more…just feel more, I guess. More than I used to feel. More than I felt with anyone. I mean, everything I was running away from, I don’t even know what it is. Fear, I guess. I felt all of that with you.
Brenda: I’m good at making people feel fear.
Nate: But I can’t—
Brenda: Nate, I’m not saying now—
Nate: I can’t even think about the future.
Brenda: I’m just saying maybe.
Nate: I’m having surgery tomorrow.

She looks stunned.

Nate: (lies) It’s uh—uh— an embolization. Totally routine.
Brenda: Can I be with you?
Nate: No.

She pauses, hurt.

Nate: My mom’s coming with me, and it’s really nothing. I mean, I’m gonna be fine.
Brenda: (almost collapsing into tears) Oh, Nate.

She reaches over to hug him, but he backs away.

Nate: Look, I’m sorry. I gotta go.
Brenda: Nate! Nate, please!

He quickly leaves, perhaps before he breaks into tears himself. She is left alone on the chair, feeling horrible.

*****
It was this part of the conversation:

Nate: I mean, I still get so angry if I let myself think about it—
Brenda: Of course you do. Of course—
Nate: But I felt like this was something. Being with you made me feel more…just feel more, I guess. More than I used to feel. More than I felt with anyone. I mean, everything I was running away from, I don’t even know what it is. Fear, I guess. I felt all of that with you.
Brenda: I’m good at making people feel fear.

GAH!

...they were so close it drove me crazy. From a director's standpoint, picking apart the scene and what was happening for each character--Here's Nate pretty much saying that he's not so put together and realizing that he was scared. Because in a way, this relationship broke through his defenses and made him face himself and his fear of intimacy and living and he's suddenly realizing the magnitude of that on top of the fact that he could very well die tomorrow. He's saying he still gets angry (his defense) but being with her got him in touch with something real inside of him, something he wants. What Nate wants in this scene is that lifeline, to confront his inner fear, to understand that the things he fears don't END him, don't destroy him. Brenda has the chance to come to the table, and by having the courage to face her own fear, break through that barrier that has held them both back, and help them realize that being absolutely vulnerable and having zero control will not destroy them. If she weren't so defensive, she'd be able to hear what he's saying, that something about their connection is BIG, and that he's scared, that they're actually both in the same boat, because they're both human beings and we have absolutely no control over life. All she has to do is take the risk, give up control and say she was terrified. It's not even what she says per se, but more so that giving up of control and being absolutely vulnerable which the other person within this type of connection will automatically sense, and they would have found themselves in the same place, of absolute and pure emotional connection.

She was doing so well, courageously plugging forward, telling him that she wouldn't have cheated if she didn't really love him, accepting his less than understanding response and continuing with admitting her fear of feeling something real. And then he meets her by taking a step forward as well by admitting his own fear. AND THEN SHE FUMBLES THE BALL!

For some reason, within what he just said, she only hears what she had anticipated--rejection--and says, "I’m good at making people feel fear," which is a statement that not only shows that she's not being vulnerable, but that she's trying to get him to come over to her side and show that he loves her/cares about her by giving her sympathy/pity, taking care of her emotional needs because she's this wretched being that makes people feel fear. She suddenly reverts back to her comfort zone, the game playing where she wants him to negate her statement by saying something positive to prove himself. It's manipulative, whether she's conscious of it or not. It shows that she's not in a place to be vulnerable, to give up control. Therefore, Nate, does not feel safe enough to be vulnerable and admit exactly what is consuming him, this incredible fear. Instead, rather than having his needs addressed and having Brenda take care of him during his most needy hour, he's taking care of her, by protecting her from the knowledge of what exactly he's up against.

I think Nate realized he wasn't going to get what he needed from Brenda. She's not in that place in her evolution. Because if he had told her the truth about his surgery, he knew he would have had to take care of her feelings about losing him, etc. because Brenda makes everything about her. That's where her evolution is. And he just doesn't have the mental energy and strength to deal with her right now. Furthermore, after she says that line about being good at making people feel fear, Peter Krause stops and then the scene suddenly takes a completely different turn. The implication of the transcriber was that Nate left to cry, but I think his being extremely upset was not so much about not wanting to open up his heart and hurt both of them with expectations when he may very well die tomorrow, but from his painful disappointment in Brenda's inability to help him with his needs. If she reached out for him, it was because she needed him, not the other way around.

This scene was actually really, really sad. Brilliantly written and masterfully played...impeccable scene. If I were teaching an acting class, I'd use this scene for analysis. What each character thinks he or she wants, what each character actually wants. And how those all interact. Within the richness of conflict and contradiction, lies complex and nameless truth.

1/25 Recap

I've found that lately, when I wake up in the morning, the first words to scroll through my head are...Peja Stojakovic . Remember when I went through the Zydrunas Ilgauskas stage? This is just as bad. I don't think these guys are good looking. Good Lord, it's not that. It's just hte words. For some reason, my brain likes to say their names right when I wake up. Maybe it's like stretching. Mentally saying Eastern European names first thing in the morning is like yoga for the mind.

I went to hypnosis today and she was telling me how a woman on her period is empowered because she is getting in touch with her feminine energy. That's when I realized that I'm actually a man because my insides were dying like a vampire in sunlight as she went on and on about periods and cleansing cycles and empowerment and feminine energy. I just...kinda accept it but don't want to hear about it. No seriously, I don't want to hear about it.

I usually don't get my hopes up because I feel like mean people salivate at the thought of other people getting disappointed, but I'm kind of hoping that He Looks Like will win something so I have an excuse to go to South by Southwest. I've heard so many times in the last few months how I would really love Austin and how cool it is, that I'm taking it as a sign that I have to visit. If anything, Amber lives there and she seems to be having fun and setting windows on fire and getting laid 24/7, so this place has got to be the bomb.

Why is it so horrible to the human mind/body to hear fingernails scraping against a chalkboard? Can someone tell me, scientifically, why that sound is so all around excruciating to us? Is it the pitch? I was unloading my dishwasher today and this glass casserole dish scraped against some butter knives and made that fingernails-against-chalkboard sound and it took all of my self-control not to throw the dish across the room just because it had so egregiously offended me. Seriously, does anyone know why we have such adverse reactions to that sound?

I got an email from Ed, a friend from college. He's in LA for work so he wanted to hang out and catch up (Ed lives in Austin, by the way. You bet I'll be grilling him). He's a super cool guy, really nice, but I have to admit I didn't really get to know him well in college because I was insanely shy so I kept my distance from people, and I think he was kind of shy, too. I'm excited but worried because sometimes I revert and feel really shy and awkward again when I'm around shy people. Or around, um...anyone. I never know when that shyness hits and then I get so embarrassed of myself. I wish that would go away. Ah...don't think about it, kid.

Anyway, it's really cool to hear from old friends. I wonder how people whom I've crossed paths with throughout the course of my life are doing more than anyone probably realizes. I think about random people from high school, college, work...whom I've met in the most random places, whom I interacted for years with or maybe only a few minutes...people I love, people I hate...pretty much anyone and everyone. I always wonder...where did life take them? Are they happy? Do they ever feel lost? Have they found that special something that gives them a reason to live when life gets overwhelming? What makes them laugh? What makes them cry? Are they where they always thought they would be at this very moment?

Someone once told me that people who wonder these kinds of things are people who are really lonely at the core. Because what they are really wondering is if anyone else can feel that existential loneliness which is the very definition of the human experience. I can believe that.

I got the Arrested Development DVD and have been watching a few episodes. I never got into the show after tivoing a few random episodes, but I like it a lot more having watched it from the beginning and understanding who the characters are. I'm exhausted now. Going to bed.

Today's mood: So cheerful I'm English

(Click on pic to enlarge)

This picture almost made me lose it at work. Look at the expression on the face of the guy in the middle. And then look at how scared that little bald kid is of him.

Um...what kind of European science camp IS this?

2005 Bloggies!

Oh, very cool. Someone just emailed me to say congratulations because he saw that He Looks Like has been selected as a finalist for the Best Kept Secret and Best New Blog Awards! I didn't even know I was nominated so this really makes my day. So if you guys would be kind enough to take a moment to head over to the voting page and vote for me, that would be really sweet of you!

Also, there are a lot of cool blogs on there to check out and vote for in other categories. My self-esteem and I thank you. :)

Porn Star or My Little Pony?

um...if any of you guys has a worse job than this girl...i'd like to hear it.

Just tell me it's not weird when you see a picture of someone who has the same name as you.

Remember the incident on my birthday last year?

I was trashed on 12 shots of Patron. I went back to my place with a few friends. The female friend needed to crash so she asked if she could borrow a t-shirt. We were in my dark bedroom, illuminated only by the light from the closet, and she asks me..."Julia...do you kiss girls?" And I thought it was a funny theoretical question, having no idea it might be her asking me if I wanted to make out with her. In my mind, she may as well have been asking me, if I owned a rocketship. So I laughed and said, "No..."

Tonight I was at a friend's birthday party and this friend came up to me and was telling me how her lips tasted like lemon but she didn't know why.

I asked her,"Are you trying to get me to kiss you?"

She said, "Okay. Last time I was, but not this time."

And then...convincingly, continued to tell me how her lips tasted lemony.

Somewhere in there, I had the sneaking suspicion that, given a good amount of alchohol, I'm probably horny enough to make-out with anything.

Anyone awake out there at 2:01 am? Can anyone hear me right now?





Just sometimes...seriously...I wonder if there's really anyone out there.


Listening to that silence roaring back at you...you can feel it. The possibilities in the dead of the night when the world seems to have stopped--frozen, in midstep...

Anything can happen.




Hello?...Is anyone there?...

This Basketball Season I Would Like:

1. Amare Stoudamire to hit his free throws
2. Ben Wallace to hit his free throws
3. Kevin Garnett to hit his free throws
4. Kobe Bryant to hit his free throws

thank you.

Okay, Fine.

Then what signs would be good for me to date? Or for anyone? Boys, make your arguments. Girls, make your accusations.

I am a Gemini.

Pros:

--a great date/honeymoon-periodist. I'll make things fun and exciting and adore you and you'll be amazed by my uncanny ability to seem to be the perfect girlfriend because I've anticipated all of your desires of who you want me to be. Until I realize, I want to play a different character now, get bored at exactly 3 months in and just leave.

--Endless stories and anecdotes, will always make you laugh

--your friends and family will love me

--caring, compassionate, anticipating your needs

--brilliant; know a little about everything, everything about nothing.

--will talk about sports with you and your buddies over beers and will play sports

--all disagreements are fought out in the open; no subversive manipulation

--takes a lot for me to get mad; when I get mad, everyone within a mile will hear it, but then it's gone and I don't hold grudges.

--open minded and like to explore new things

--like to teach people new things

--spiritual and understanding

--very affectionate

--very nice; if I like you, I'll do a lot of nice things for you.

--never boring

--will keep you on your toes

--really, really into sex

Cons:

--suddenly not into sex anymore and expect you to respect that unless you want to be called a rapist. just testing you.

--lightning mood changes

--contradicting moods, ideas, personalities

--practitioner of the "technical truth." Everything out of my mouth is technically and elementally true, even if the overall picture is not exactly true. If you want to get an overall truth, you're responsible for asking the right questions.

--very elusive.

--must keep me interested. Bored easily.

--Must have the moral fiber of a saint. Once I lose respect for you, I hate you.

--only want to be with someone who excels in his field, is successful at something I'm not, or can teach me new things. Geminis are like children. We want to look up to someone. Ideally, we want a mutual admiration society.

--looking for a soulmate (we have many). I don't care how cool you are, how funny you are, how hot you are. If there isn't something else, something I can't define but recognize whenever I encounter it, we'll just be friends. Very very picky.

--will test and provoke you to figure out who you are by your reactions. I don't care what you tell me about yourself. That's just propaganda. I want to see for myself.

--have own personal logic. you'll love it or hate it.

--impulsive; everything happens quickly. If I'm going the wrong way, at least I'm going the wrong way really, really fast.

--over-intellectualize. Everything is worked out through reasoning, even feelings.

--distrusting. You'll have to jump through a huge number of hoops before I trust your intentions.

--will hold grudges if the relationship isn't open and doesn't have good communication so that I'm not able to express the things I'm unhappy about.

--detached. You'll have lots of freedom. Lots and lots and lots. Sometimes you'll wonder if it's because I think of you as more of a friend or don't really care. But if you try to test my level of feeling by threatening to break up, I'll let you leave because now I don't trust to let you know how I feel anymore because you threatened to break up. You'll usually have to be the one to show your cards first. Emotionally, I'm a total coward.

--Highly protective and sensitive about personal freedom but want to know that you're committed. If I feel you're not committed, I won't say anything, but will just get flightier and more detached.

--mysterious. There are parts of me that aren't even open to me, let alone other people.

Overall: Geminis (or this one at least) are highly complicated, inconsistent and a lot of work but are a lot of fun. Only for those who enjoy challenges.

There it is, take it or leave it.

Thus, good Aries are the ones I found so far that are willing to put up with the mental Olympics, are too straightforward to notice the games used for testing them, are open and warm enough to earn my trust (after a while), and are determined enough to stick around. They are turned on by challenges and have the energy to deal with me, while their openness and general distaste for subversive manipulation and backstabbing reduces my neurotic behaviors. And they're often funny and successful, which earns my respect.

Bad Aries are arrogant dicks and I don't like them.

Here is my approximate dating history:

Aries: 1
Taurus: 0
Gemini: 4
Cancer: 1
Leo: 5
Virgo: 3
Libra: 4
Scorpio: 3
Sagittarius: 0
Capricorn: 2
Aquarius: 3
Pisces: 3

A Leo's probably good for me too, since it seems I'm drawn to them.

Here is obviously my current state today:

Too much time on my hands.

Things that Made Me Want to Punch Through a Wall Bright and Early

Bush spends $40 million on his inauguration party. Quick, math whizzes...how much armor could $40 million buy for our troops who are living day to day in a dangerous hellhole?

Howard Dean would have had the party at his house with his mom serving homemade turkey sandwiches. I'm not advocating How-De, but $40 million? Is Bush purposely spitting in the faces of our troops and cackling as he runs away with his face smeared with cake?

Fuck you, Bush. FUCK YOU. You're lucky this isn't France.

***

Some Christian fanatics need to realize that THEY are the very ones that we're trying to protect the world from.

Christian groups however have taken exception to the tolerance pledge on the foundation's Web site, which asks people to respect the sexual identity of others along with their abilities, beliefs, culture and race.

"Their inclusion of the reference to 'sexual identity" within their 'tolerance pledge' is not only unnecessary, but it crosses a moral line," James Dobson, founder of Focus on the Family, said in a statement released Thursday.

Hey James, remember when the law told your grandaddy he couldn't hang "coloreds" from trees anymore because they were now considered "human beings?" That was a terrible day, wasn't it? Thank God you can still go after the gays to make your nuts feel big.

It astounds me how people can be so small-minded, intolerant and self-righteous. It's funny how the Bible says that God is love and to be one with God is to love all people. It's funnier how these idiot fanatics have taken the liberty to interpret that as, to walk with God means we're better than everyone else, especially those who don't think, act or look like us. Save it, you assholes. Built yourselves a fucking ark and ship off somewhere if you don't like the way the world is evolving. I hear Sri Lanka's nice this time of year. And don't even fucking tell me that those people perished because they were heathens. If celebrating life and spirituality in a different way is a sin, then what the hell is malice? If Hell exists, I'm sure Someone has a special place for you guys. You forgot...God loves irony. Just keep talking.

Here is one of my favorite scenes from Six Feet Under. They've just buried a gay man who was beaten to death by ignorant hicks. Nearby, Christians are protesting the funeral. David, is a gay man who hasn't completely come to terms with his orientation yet. If you've never seen this episode, check it out, if only for this magnificent scene.

Scene One: Cemetery, Marc's Funeral, daytime

The service is filled with friends and family. PAUL looks at the coffin, mournfully, and throws dirt on top. We see MARC's parents crying. His mother looks up to see a group of protestors standing nearby the service. They carry signs spewing such words of hate as "No Fags in Heaven," "Homos in Hell," "God's Wrath on Fags Gen. 19:1-26," and "Fag=Anal Sex=[a picture of skull and crossbones]." KEITH patrols around the group. Meanwhile, DAVID, NATE, and FEDERICO stand together. DAVID looks at the signs, sickened. He looks up to see MARC's ghost, still bloodied and scarred, sitting on a nearby gravestone, taunting him.

Scene Two: Cemetery, after the service

NATE, DAVID, and FEDERICO escort MARC's parents away from the service. As they walk by, protestors start shouting hateful words at that.

Protestor #1: The Bible says your son's burning in Hell!
Protestor #2: That's right!
Protestor #1: God hates Fags!
Nate: (yells back) God hates morons!
Protestor #1: The wages of sin is death and AIDS!
Protestor #2: Amen!

Suddenly, DAVID, overwhelmed with anger, rushes at PROTESTOR #1. KEITH holds him back.

David: You leave these people alone or God help me!
Protestor #1: It's my right to be here.
Protestor #2: Yeah, this is America!
Protestor #1: It's my right to tell the truth! God killed Marc Foster, and I'm here to celebrate.

DAVID gets out of KEITH's grasp, and punches the man hard in the stomach. PROTESTOR #1 falls down. KEITH pulls DAVID back.

Keith: David!
David: God just shoved your stomach into your lungs, and I'm here to celebrate!

KEITH pulls DAVID away, but he gets out of his grip again. He punches the man a second time, this time in the face.

David: Look, God just got you in the face!

KEITH pulls him away again.

Keith: What the hell is wrong with you?

DAVID walks away.

Protestor #1: (hand on his face) He started it.
Keith: Are you alright, sir?
Protestor #1: That man oughtta be arrested!
Keith: Listen, we'll take care of it. Just watch yourself.
Protestor #1: I demand that man be arrested!

KEITH grabs the man roughly, hurting him.

Keith: (furious) This is a funeral! Show some respect!

How to Properly Release Doves at Your Wedding

Dear God,

I would like to date an Aries next.

Thank you,

Julia

Dreams of a Non-Crack Smoker

I have strange dreams. Sometimes they're like movies, complete with three-act structure and integrated themes. Sometimes they're so real, they bore me to tears, like when I had a dream that I was at work putting together an Excel file, and that was the entire dream. Often, they feature Mexican migrant workers or Andy Garcia (unrelated to each other).

(ps--did you know Mickey Rourke was Andy's little league coach when Andy was a kid in Miami? For reals, dude. Some people will leave their kids with ANYONE)

Last night I dreamed:

I wanted to make my hair super silky like in those Pantene commercials where their hair just spills down, like a river. I went to Walgreen's and bought some conditioning oil but when I got home, I was reading the directions and it said, "Not to be used if your hair is colored."

And I got so CRAZY offended because my hair is black and I'm like, What--just cuz my hair is BLACK, it ain't good enough for your product?!?

But then I realized that the packaging was referring to highlights.

If not smoking crack gives me dreams like that, then maybe it's time that I started.

1/19 Recap

I was at work today when I get a call on my cell phone from an area code that's either my aunt (who wants to give me Lakers tickets), my cousin (who wants to go to dinner sometime this week) or this guy I had given my number to in September. We had hung out once but then he seemed really young and annoyingly flakey so I didn't have much interest. He called a few times after that and I turned down the invitations politely, and then just stopped picking up when he still kept calling. Normally I let that area code go to voicemail in case it's him, but I figured that since it's been a couple of months since I last heard from him, I'd be safe.

Wrong.

So we chat and I remember he's a nice guy, even though I don't have any romantic interest in him. We talk about our New Year's, about bad knees, his work etc. and then he segues into, "Speaking of work, that's actually the reason I called. Would you be interested in working with me?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"What we would do is we'd go get coffee; then we'd sit down together and I would look at your current investments and your goals, and come up with a strategy to help you maximize your investments."

What?

He's cold-calling the people in his little black book? What a fucking asshole.

So I say, "Well actually, I just transferred all of my investments to Morgan Stanley literally 2 months ago and I have a friend of a friend handling my account so I can't pull out now." (heee! I said "pull out")

"I understand," he says. "But would you be interested in buying insurance? We provide a wide range of insurances that protect you from many things that can occur. For instance, do you know much about disability insurance? With disability insurance, if your back got bad enough to the point that it prevented you from working, did you know that disability insurance could cover you at nearly the same salary that you would be making at your job?"

Yeah, he's definitely giving me a sales pitch. I tell him that I'm not interested and thankfully my work phone happens to ring at the same time so I have to go.

So he tells me to let him know if things don't work out with Morgan Stanley and then asks if he should give me a call the next time he and his buddies hang out at Q's [a local sports bar].

I wish I had said, "No, that won't be necessary."

But I'm too fucking polite.

Pisser.

Fucktard.

Dumbass.

I hate salesmen.

I went to see the psychohypnotist today. Interesting. I'm going to give it up to 4 sessions to see if it produces any results. If it does, I will be singing her praise from the mountaintops.

Today's mood: Supposedly reprogrammed

Dolph Says, "Don't Go To School Kids! Unless That's the Only Place Where You Can Score Weed!"


Dolph Lundgren, known for his villainous roles in Rocky and a slew of terrible action movies often found on the Porta-Potty of basic cable (USA Networks), has a wasted Master's Degree in chemical engineering and was the recipient of a Fullbright Scholarship to MIT. Proving once again, what's the point of an education if you can make mad bank by slapping some canola oil on your boobies and beating the crap out of people.

1/18 Recap

Quickly because I have to be at work at 7am tomorrow...

This weekend I bought 3 18-count cartons of eggs from Costco, because Brian and I seem to go through a dozen a week (Eggs: It's What Lazy People Eat). Now anyone who knows me knows that I can cook. But you know that joke about how someone who sucks at cooking can't even boil an egg? Well, I swear to God I can cook, but apparently I don't know how to boil an egg. I was trying to make hard-boiled eggs on Sunday and I asked Brian how long you need to boil an egg for and he didn't know. So I let the water boil, and then cooked the eggs for about 45 minutes (I accidentally forgot about them). They turned out okay. Today, I wanted to make egg salad so I asked Brian how long an egg should boil for knowing full well that he didn't have the answer, and he told me to look it up. So I did, and the recipe said, "Bring the water to boil, then cook for 1 minute." Whoa. I overcooked my eggs by 45 times. I am 45 times more retarded than the average person.

I went to my friend AD's birthday party tonight at a karaoke bar. I wanted to buy him a birthday drink and he wanted to do a shot of tequila together. Uh oh. I had planned to stick to juice tonight. No alcohol. And for him to suggest the evil which can notoriously send me careening down a dangerous, wanton path...

Well, luckily, 1 shot of Patron and I was fine. AD, however, was a different story, as he becomes friendly, adorable Huggy Bear when he's drunk. Men, women, children, inanimate objects...all will receive some love from Huggy.

I chose not to sing as I have respect for fellow human beings and I just don't wish that kind of hurt on anyone. Instead, Matt and I made up a game. It's called My Cover Band Would Be Called...

Basically, we would name a band, and throw out what the name of our cover band for each particular band would be.

For example:

U2= Homo Bono, for me(a U2 glam cover band full of glitter, hyperbolic makeup and pronounced codpieces); Discoteque, for Matt.

Wilson Phillips = The Fat One (Matt and I were unanimous)

Bon Jovi = Styl Horse (pronounced Steel Horse), for Matt; Jersey Tuck Job or Feathered Pubes for me (have any of you seen Triumph the Comic Insult Dog when he asks Richie Sambora if he feathered his pubes in the 80s?)

There was much discussion tonight about the fact that we are getting old and are around the age where many people get married. As most of our friends in Michigan are. I'm starting to get a little nervous because I honestly can't see myself even in a long term relationship, as I have yet to invalidate my history of being flighty and I just don't feel comfortable being alone with people, male or female. I'm seeing the psychohypnotist tomorrow so maybe she can help shed some light. She asked me what I wanted to see her for when I was making the appointment today. I told her, "I just want to feel more integrated. Like there isn't something I'm hiding, some part of me, even though I have no idea what it is or if it even exists." Hopefully this can help.

(Mark Mulder, St. Louis Cardinals)

I just became a big baseball fan.

1/17/05 Recap

I almost nodded off at work today with only 20 more minutes to go. Didn't even have enough consciousness to surf the net for weird pictures of people. The problem was that I had a big meeting earlier today and I got so wired running a mental sprint, that I just ran out of juice by the end of the day. It didn't help that I spent two hours of lunchtime with the tax guy trying not to nod off as he did stuff that he could have done without me there. I dissolved my corporation today. After years of it hanging over my head as a sign of failure (I took a loss every year in the thousands, but it was mostly to help out my taxes), it's finally gone. A moment of silence, please.

Okay that's enough.

I finished the last DVD of the 3rd season of 24. Okay, I now watch it in my bedroom with the door closed because I kind of get choked up about Tony and Michelle. They're...kind of...cute together. In the scene after Tony does the exchange for a kidnapped Michelle and the ensuing big shootout finally ends, they're just on the ground in each other's arms, clutching each other and sobbing; I actually sniffled a little and said, "Awwww...I want a husband..." That will be the only time you will EVER hear those words pass my lips in that order. Without the word "mail order" thrown in the middle.

Today is Martin Luther King Day and I would have really liked to have taken it off to celebrate the beauty that is the Big Black Brutha...er, I mean... the legacy of a great man. Here's something I was thinking about. My brother and I both know the meaning of sadistic authority. It's when certain authority figures provoke you until you act badly, just to show that you are someone who acts badly, and then they stand back and act like, "Whoa! What's wrong with you?" Like they had nothing to do with it. It's infuriating and frustrating, especially when you're not the one with the power or authority, and you feel discredited because as far as other people can tell, you just acted badly, and they don't realize that you were provoked. It creates a defensive, untrusting and angry mindset. A feeling of being trapped.

This dynamic makes me think about the plight of black people living in the U.S. Coming from a history where authority is too often cruel and unfair, as a group, they're conditioned to be quite defensive and hyper-aware of the need for self-protection and the survivalistic need to be distrustful. But within a more evolved and positive environment as the current state of our nation is supposed to be, they should be able to put down the past injuries and grow past them in order to self-actualize. But the only problem is, that if there are people in positions of power who want to prove a whole group inferior, they can easily provoke members of that group to act poorly in a "predictable" fashion, by unfairly putting pressure on them in a way that results in certain negative outcomes. Within the right set of circumstances, anyone can act negatively, just as within the right set of circumstances, anyone can feel safe enough to act positively. But if the overall authoratative climate is one that wants to see certain people or groups fail, then they are going to greatly influence that group and trap them in a devastatingly negative self-fulfilling cycle.

I just think there is too much corrupt power. I know I post about it all the time, but too often, the people who seek power are the very ones who are too dangerous to have it. Power means responsibility for realities beyond your own, so the more power a person has, the more selfless he has to be. But if you look around, people in power are often the least selfless people. Think about politicians, celebrities, bosses...all of these people have power in some sense. But how many play out the manifestations of their own egos instead of giving of themselves in a degree that is in direct proportion to their range of influence? A true leader, belongs to his people. Not vice versa.

I hate corrupt, self-serving authority.

And now, the only time I want to talk about it, let's just get it out of our system...

Brad and Jen.

My stance is... leave them alone. I don't care who they are or how goodlooking they are. They're two people going through possibly the hardest emotional times in their lives and we should have the decency not to be so insensitive to that. I don't mean you have to go out of your way to care. I just mean, stay out of their business.

Dude, imagine the hardest breakup you've ever had, with someone you were head over heels in love with and possibly thought you would spend the rest of your life with. Then imagine if millions of people were dissecting your pain and private life in the least sensitive manner possible, judging you and throwing out baseless rumors when it's none of their fucking business in the first place. Personally, if you guys did that to me, I would hunt down each and every one of you and bring upon you a violent end. I once nearly hunted down a friend just for commenting about a hard break-up of mine in an insensitive, snarky way. It's just not cool. And yeah, we expect more from our friends than strangers, but if you're a stranger, then you don't even have any business making comments!

They're probably going through one of the most painful times if not THE most painful time of their lives. If any of you have gone through a divorce, have had parents get divorced, or have been in a household where the parents fought bitterly over divorce, then you know. It's very very emotionally difficult and heartwrenching. It's not a circus. It's not a soap opera. It's real life. And I don't care if they're celebrities but these are real people with real feelings and real suffering.

I think the difference between these two and say, a certain media trainwreck known is Bennifer, is that the latter kind of made a mockery out of celebrity and relationships. Brad and Jen didn't go out of their way to get the spotlight and sport gaudy displays of affection and celebrity. Yes, celebrity is what it is, and the good comes with the bad. But few people realistically anticipate what the reality and price of fame are before they're suddenly thrust in the middle of it, nor is it fair for us to say they deserve it for being rich and famous, just because we're jealous and want to find some way to tear down our own demi-gods. Don't fucking forget, we put them up on that pedestal...so what does it say about us when we have such a vicious obsession over breaking down our heroes? I didn't so much feel sorry for Ben and J-Lo because they kind of put themselves out there for this kind of attention, encouraging both the positive and negative. But Brad and Jen made an effort to live lives as normal human beings, and I think we, as the masses, should have the human decency not to make a mockery out of a very difficult time for two fellow human beings.

On the other hand, I'm not immune to reading an article if the headline pops up on my msn homepage. I'm susceptible to all this crap too. But I try to force myself to change the channel when the gossip shows start talking about it, to ignore the newsstands and to refrain from speculation with friends because it's none of my fucking business. I just keep thinking that if I were in their position, all this bullshit would aggravate an already devastating emotional situation and it's really quite cruel; I would hope that if I were in this position, people, especially strangers who have nothing to do with my business anyway, would have the kindness to stay out of my personal business. Sadly, it doesn't work that way. People in masses have the propensity to extreme levels of cruelty. Especially when envy is involved. But just think about your own difficult experiences with personal pain. Now imagine it scrutinized and mocked by millions. Would you be so heartless as to wish that on anyone?

Raise your hand if your 45-ish tax accountant with a fascination for Asian culture and Asian women also insists on giving you a hug hello and goodbye after every session.

Anyone?

Anyone???

oh god.

Alright kids, let's do a roll call of new blogs of people I know but didn't know had blogs until recently:

Rebecca is a smart, sassy girl from the midwest who can kill a man using only 1.25 fingers. She could kill women and children too, but that's just showing off.

Rob is a cynical optimist braving the urban jungle of New York City. He can tell you the best places to go to watch people buy crack. It's a fun activity. Like tailgating. Bring your own folding chair and a cooler of beer. And a foam finger.

Thode's site deserves some serious design concept awards. It's very creative and the writing's funny and fresh.

I'm staying in tonight because I just love the feeling of being at home and cozy sometimes. We went out last night and being the weakass Asian that I am, two drinks damn near had me falling into the pool. But I was STILL able to tell that there was no one hot in the bar, so don't believe any rumors that alcohol clouds the judgment of all pertinent superficial matters. What about that mailbox incident last year, you say? Once again, I promise you that even sober, I would have totally thought that mailbox was really, really hot.

I need to submit an article outline to a men's magazine by tomorrow. Sometimes it worries me, how much I trip myself up about things. It freaks me out, getting published or having my creative pieces out there so I tend to sabotage myself. Writing this blog is a love/hate relationship. It's what I do to keep myself from becoming completely reclusive, afraid of showing any of my work to anyone. I could easily become like that guy, Henry Darger, who died and afterwards, his landlord found enormous amounts of art and manuscripts that he had been privately creating behind closed doors, and nobody ever had any idea.

Speaking of things that people do behind closed doors, have you guys ever heard that REM song, "Life and How to Live It" ? It's based on this true story of this schizophrenic guy who divided his house up and would live different lives between them, but after he died, they found this huge stash of all these copies of the same book. Apparently, he had written a book, but he had kept every copy ever printed in the back of his house and never showed it to anyone. And the book? It was called "Life and How to Live It" of course. That's one of my favorite stories. I would do anything to get a copy of that book and read it. [note: I saved this post and searched the internet and found a rare books dealer who has this book and have ordered it, and I thought this piece of news was important enough to justify a run on sentence.]

So anyway, this weird issue I have...my mom and I were discussing it and I told her that I'm thinking about going to see a hypnotherapist. I want someone who has a solid background in clinical psychology but who also understands the marriage between the mind and the soul, the psychological and the existential. I don't know what my problem is, why I get so freaked out when I think about my work being exposed. Because my work is me and I'm highly sensitive because I haven't learned the separation between the art and the artist yet. And I'm afraid of what they'll find hidden in my closet. I don't think I have anything in my closet. I feel like I'm always obsessively going through it and have ransacked the place of anything repressed and juicy. But all indications seem to be that there's something unresolved back there. Maybe it's a childhood trauma. Maybe it's a past-life trauma. Maybe it's negative attitudes. Or maybe I'm just fucking undisciplined. But sometimes it freaks me out when I think about how there can be certain factual incidents that have happened in a person's life, but you honestly can't pull up a memory of them. Yet you know they must have happened because you've seen pictures, or other people were also present at the time to confirm the experience. It's scary to think about how ANYTHING can happen to you and your mind can just veto your conscious power and decide, yeah, that memory...it's not going to exist anymore. Like some of the women who get raped on roofies and wo would have no idea what happened if no one told them. Memory is such an amazing, twisted fucking fucked up fucky fucky thing.

I surfed a few blogs today and you know what I'm proud of? More and more people are saying, "Fuck grammar!" in the name of expressing their own personal style. I figure, when it comes to writing, if other people can get where you're going and get into these personal experiences through the guidance of your words, then you're the fucking bomb. For example, the whole preposition rule. It's bull. When we speak, we say, "Who are you coming with?" "What are you thinking about?" Like Winston Churchill mockingly but correctly put, "This is the sort of English up with which I cannot put." Who talks like that?!? If I wrote things like, "About what are you thinking?" and "With whom are you coming?" in the dialogue of my screenplays, I would deservedly receive the reputation of being a really bad writer. And I think some of the people who are always correcting other people's grammar do it to feel undeservedly intellectually superior. I suspect these people are insecure about their own lack of personal creativity. Anyway, the first thing they always teach you in writing classes is to be brave enough to write in your own voice. I figure, words on a page are a blueprint, a guideline for the imagination to visualize a live event or conversation. And that's more important than staunchly sticking to often outdated rules. I mean, I'm not advocating a complete disregard of grammar rules so that people sound like illiterate idiots. But when I read people's blogs and I can tell they're completely uninhibited in the way they write and are speaking exactly as they would in real life, it's so refreshing. Totally honest.

I watched a few episodes of the 3rd season of 24 tonight. Brian thinks the show is terrible. I think it's amusing. They deal with such serious matters, but the production just isn't that good. The acting is terrible and the character of Kim is kind of a joke. She threatened to turn the beginning of this season into a WB teen drama. The office is dealing with a serious terrorist threat that could kill millions and she's spends the first episode overtaking every scene with, "Waaah! We need to tell my dad that we're dating because it's been three months and you promised we would tell him if we were still dating after three months!" Um, little girl? We revolve around the sun. Not you. [Anyone else get annoyed by the way she runs around the office referring to Kiefer as "dad?" How about a little professionalism, girl-in-bad-haircut? Jeez.]

But I digress. Kiefer is so in character, and that's so riveting to watch. The only weird thing is that every time he gets up close in someone's face and is doing his velvety yet urgent whispers, I can't help but think about how bad he must smell. Because Kiefer's a method man and he figures, he's this guy under great stress who's running around sweating out spent adrenaline and not eating or rehydrating...for twenty-four straight hours. You can tell how he IS Jack Bauer. Plus, Kiefer's a fan of hard living in real life. So I just bet when he goes in and becomes Jack Bauer, he's just not really concerned with personal hygiene.

Or maybe this is my clean freak streak showing.

We're getting ready to go out now. Haven't been to a bar with these kids in a very long time. I cleaned up my bedroom and made my bed. Hmmm. This hasn't happened in a while. Something's going on with me.

So this is how it went down.

I'm in the kitchen, vehemously scrubbing the dishes with soap and a sponge like an obsessive-compulsive, opting not to use the dishwasher because I was awashed by my hardworking-Asian-in-the-fields ancestor roots and wanted to work with my hands. There's a joy and naturalness to doing something that takes great manual effort. I was also very high.

Lauren is listening to her phone messages when she turns around and says, "Some brother...just left me a message saying, 'So this is how it's gonna go down bitch. You haven't called me back.' I think it's this guy I met a long, long time ago."

So she's a little bit rattled and I'm telling her that guy sounds insane, especially if he's been harboring anger at you for not calling him for this long of a time. Because it means he sat there and stewed about it obsessively. And I'm starting to freak out for her.

She wants me to listen to the message. I'm thinking I'm about to listen to a message from someone unstable enough to be a bona fide psychopath; she puts the phone to my ear and indeed, I hear a man say, "So this is how this is gonna go down bitch. You haven't called me back." Then pathetically, "So call me...bye..."

I started cracking up and said, "Lauren, that was a gay man. That brother's gay."

"So this is how this is gonna go down bitch"?

Honestly, he sounded like some girl trying to start a catfight.

So now Lauren's a little embarrassed because we're about to make fun of her because some guy who's OBVIOUSLY gay but in complete self-denial was pissed at her for not calling him.

I say we need Brian's opinion for verification. He'll know if the guy's gay.

Brian listens to the message and then starts cracking up, throwing the phone back to her. "That's Colin."

Remember Colin and his raging boots from a few posts ago? Dude, he's most definitely some beautiful-black-but-psychotic stalker. I was totally freaking out that Lauren was being stalked by a maniac.

This guy is FUNNY.

My favorite part of this article...

The girl likes to have her hair done and have nice clothes and always look good. And she also always like to smoke but she NEVER has any herbs of her own to bring over so that I can smoke with her. She doesn't have herbs, blunts, liquor, a car, her own place, nor does she have any money. So that means that I have to provide everything...But I didn't have any money on me and I had run out of blunts so we needed to go to the store to get a blunt. I told her that I didn't have money in my wallet but I had the herbs and the drink at home and all I needed from her was SIXTY CENTS to go buy a blunt from the store. Can you believe that this bitch didn't even have SIXTY FUCKING CENTS in her pocket? She gave me like 35 cents in dimes and nickles and I was able to scrape up the rest of the change from the floor of my car. So between both of us, we were barely able to scrape up 60 cents for a blunt. While we were still in the car, I thought to myself, "Why the fuck am I with a female that doesn't even have sixty cents in her pocket"? But this night, it didn't matter. We got to the house and I rolled the blunt, we smoked it, and then we went upstairs and she sucked me off swell. But because she didn't even have 60 cents, I was kind of offended when she asked me to suck her titties first. How the fuck are you gonna ask me to suck your titties when you don't even have SIXTY FUCKING CENTS to your name?

Man, I obviously didn't have enough balls in college. Wish I had written something like this and not cared so much about things like grades, or graduating, or not being homeless when you don't have a job.

um, yeah...I'm gonna have to ask you to turn the crazy down a notch...

http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,2-2005013091,00.html

Do you ever feel...not so fresh?

1:44am and I wonder what it would be like to just not go to work. Just pull an office space and decide not to go anymore. I went to the bank during my lunch break just to do a balance inquiry. Like visiting my money in its theoretical form will reaffirm my will to work. I kind of like having money. But I don't like to work. Someone work out a happy compromise for me. One that doesn't involve sex with a very very old and very very rich man.

I wonder if blogging is bad for me. Like, if you have a jolly good time masturbating, you end up not having any drive to go out and get the real thing. Increase time spent blogging...decrease time spent screenwriting and other writing of that ilk that could potentially bring in income. Shame on you guys for letting my masturbation problem get out of hand.

I made empanadas for dinner tonight. Just wanted to try but I substituted out such incredients as lard, using butter instead. Because it's uh...so much better for you. But actually, I didn't even have any regular butter in the house so I used light butter for the dough, which I figured would kill the recipe since the lard/shortening/butter is necessary for good pastry texture. And then I baked them instead of frying them. The results weren't so much empanadas as beef and potato pies. And then I accidentally left a batch in the oven for 80 minutes (they're supposed to bake for 20) because I zoned out.

There should be a Special Olympics event called Living. You just go about your life trying to put one foot in front of the other and make it day to day without any tragicomical disasters or setting anyone's pets on fire. I would try out for this event, but probably not even qualify for competition, when it's discovered that no matter how well labeled and obvious a plate glass window is, I'll still walk into it.

I'm so tired but I don't want to go to bed.

Going to bed = alarm clock going off = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = snoozing = getting up = cranky shower = work.

By not going to bed, I prevent this whole process, creating a break in the time/space continuum by interrupting the logical chain of events so that resulting events can not occur. Therefore, by not going to bed, I don't have to work. Ha! Take that God! I beat you.

No, I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

We Salute You, Patrick Kerney!


Car Alarms Are Really Sensitive and the friends of the Navy congratulate NFL's Patrick Kerney for being Fa-bu lous!

This Bud's for you... May every day be like a gay porn.

please please please god...give me the strength to put on pants and go writing...i have a sweater on and socks...please give me the strength to put one leg on and then the other and be appropriate.

Starbuck's Chantico

What it is: (chocolate flavored) Liquid Crack

Target market: Pregnant women and women on their periods

Decadence Quotient: Off the scales

Review: Like melting down a bar of fine Belgium chocolate and drinking it, then writhing from self loathing over debased gluttony. The perfect tool of masochism for today's way-too-fat-for-the-magazine-covers-anyway woman on the go. Three men were required to restrain me as I fought to lick the last drops of rich goodness out of the paper cup after contents had been consumed.

Emotional Consequence: Want to slice off resulting roll of fat from 6 oz. indulgence and flog myself with it.

Press: http://money.cnn.com/2005/01/07/news/fortune500/starbucks_chantico/

Verdict: Highly recommend

Rainy Days!

Rock. They just do. It's coming down hard outside (it's like a carwash out there), like the sun coming up means everything is now clean enough for me to go outside. How can you not love the rain if you think of how clean it makes things feel?

So being stuck indoors, Brian and I are listening to some awesome music, having cocktails--for me, limeade with tonic water and vodka. for him, cranberry and ketel one--with a pizza in the oven, in the first stretch of a night in, lounging around and watching a video. [Fuck...I wish I had a straight guy in my life.] Regardless, it's cozy and safe and right now; life feels beautiful.

I love the rain.

um...so...are the seeing eye dogs the ones who are supposed to read that and know it's okay to enter?

Over a glass of wine, Brian and I discuss the current economic state in the Republic of Congo.

What you need to know is that Colin is 6'4". Yes. These boots are 4 ft. tall, ecstatic to be here, Libra Dragons who like Italian food and long walks on the beach at sunset.

this was taken at the Brass Monkey on karoke night sometime last month, but I've been errant in posting the pic. These are my friends Roxie and Laauren rocking out to Britney Spears. You see the gap-toothed guy on the left watching them enthusiastically? What you can't tell from this picture is there is no other table of people anywhere near him. He pulled up a chair literally up to the stage to watch them. And apparently, he had told Lauren earlier in the evening that he had killed 14 people. Awesome.

Wow. Down to his blog address, this guy is BRILLIANT!

So I was on Match.com looking for good pictures for He Looks Like, when I found this guy . The picture grabbed me. Read his profile...this has got to be a joke. God, I hope it is.

There was this pillar outside of a church in Venice with this sex ed diorama.

First, the young man calls on a young woman of good reputation.

The two young people display flirtatious behavior, tentatively feeling out the nature and depth of each other's affections.

The man lets his intentions be known that he plans to "get all up in dat shit...most respectfully speaking."

And thus begins the heavy petting.

One drink leads to another leads to a nightcap in the woman's vagina.

Then soon, a cocoon is born.

The parents stay together to raise the child, letting their disagreements and seething resentments stay behind closed doors and under the sweet reprieve of substance abuse until the child finally leaves home, paving the way for sweet, sweet divorce and the much waited for casual sex with other, more attractive and much younger people.

and finally...death. In a nursing home, under the watchful eyes of smiling nurses, paid for by your negligent child who has long since stopped taking your calls.

THE END

If the doorknob doesn't come off the door, it's not a high class hotel.

4 monkeys...

Ooooh...suddenly...the revisitation of another time, remembering a whole world that may or may not still exist...home alone in the dark...the torrential rain roaring outside, and the feeling that all the secrets of the world are out there...prowling those wet, empty streets...and thinking how delicious (yet frightening) it would be to go out and confront them...

i've learned this week how much i staunchly cling to my own survival...how much i care about the instincts that are needed for a soul to avoid death in this lifetime.

sometimes i think we've evolved in a manner in which neuroticism is the key to one dimension in the survival of our species. by being neurotic, a person is so subconsciously consumed by the things that can potentially bring on physical or emotional death, he or she is in a constant vigilant state of trying to avoid these things. Neurotic people are always on the look out for the dangerous physical/financial positions, the toxic people who may secretly want to hurt them, the intimacies that might subtly manipulate them into detrimental and dangerously vulnerable positions. because a physical death means there's no more possibility of continuing in this world, while extreme emotional pain will lead to the desire of not wanting the physical capacity to continue in this world. All this keeps them away from things that threaten this survival. But then there are people who evolve themselves right out of existence by being so hypervigilant, that they burn out all of their sensors and are finally depleted of the psychic energy needed to exist on this plane.

geminis at their worst are most susceptible to these psychic-type deaths that inevitably induce physical deaths. that's why, in this classification group, strokes, stress-related heart disease, and mental illness all tend to run high. it's the perception related faculties are the ones that tend to fail. they just burn them out.

in europe, i was up late one night talking to someone, and i told her how people shed who they are the way snakes shed skin, but much more subtly, but more frequently. If you think about the human body and how often we shed our cells, even if some cells stay the same for a very long period of time, the majority of the cells from any given moment are gone. So I think about what percentage of my cells from when I was in Europe are still present. What percentage are still present within me from my last birthday? From the time I broke up with the last person I loved? From the first time I had sex? From my kindergarten graduation? And to think that the parts of me that were there are mostly gone, means that I am mostly a different person from who I was then, literally. Sometimes it's weird think back to a time and realize, "I will literally, never be EXACTLY person again." And it makes me miss that person, whoever she was. Each and every of thousands of versions.

sometimes what life is really about is just about calling into that dark forest, listening for any voice that may answer from the shadows, hoping to find out how someone else is doing in their own attempts at fumbling around in the dark so that we may not feel so alone.

and thus concludes friday's stream of consciousness.