The other night in Times Square, I saw a group of five twenty-somethings, looking like they had fallen out of the dorm at Columbia University, or out of an L.L. Bean catalog, campaigning for O. Loudly. Waving their "O" signs and taking names on their clipboard. Two boys and three girls. Looking like the cast of Dawson's Creek or The OC. And I thought to myself, are they really for him? And by extension, me?
Tonight I started down my Blogroll list to peep into your lives, and I opened up My Other Hero's page and I saw the video he posted. I'd never heard a mumbling peep from him about his stance on politics or the world, or race or even religion. He's a science fiction author and an essayist, and a humorist (and a poet and singer and songwriter). Through none of those mediums had he ever expressed his views on much else than that he was a nice creative guy with a wife he loves and hopes and dreams for a successful career.
To me, posting this video is like reaching out an giving me a hug. Not that he posted it for me. He probably wasn't thinking about me at all. But I've said it before--it's important to me. It would mean so much. It would go so far. Sometimes I feel ornery and I just want rednecks to hiss and spit (treat ME like a second class citizen, will you?). But most times, when I dare to hope--allow myself the vulnerability to dream--I know how good it would be for your kids and my kids --all of OUR kids-- to see a black man as the Executive Officer. As the Leader Of The Free World. As More Than A Basketball/Football Player. As More Than A Rapper/Entertainer.
As Someone.
I've said it for a while now, just to throw the idea out there and see if it made any sense to anyone.
It makes sense to My Other Hero. And to all the other white people out there who are casting their votes.
And for the first time in a very long time, I feel like my country can accept me for me.
Can you, America?
Showing posts with label My Other Hero. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Other Hero. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
In Case You Were Wondering ...
...here is an example of what I think is a good-looking man. 
Anyway, this payday I'm going to have to be late on my car payment. I have rent to pay, and with the money I have left, I'll need to hit some bills before next payday. If I pay my car note this Friday, I'll have nothing to cover at least two payments that come automatically out of my account, which, as I've discussed ad nauseum, the bank happily still pays for even though I clearly haven't enough money to cover it, then slams me with a 35.00 surcharge. "We choose to pay your bills for you as a courtesy to you," if I recall correctly. That's the kind of response that makes guys go into the belltowers with the high-powered arsenal. For the past three paydays they did and still I've survived. I've taken responsibility and did not grow homicidal. No, I haven't learned how to avoid it yet, but this is just me. I have no credit cards to cover what I can't afford, so I get overdraft charges. And life rolls merrily along. But I'd rather not have to just 'survive' in the next two weeks, so car payment people, save your autodial system please? You're not getting any scratch for at least two more weeks.
My solution for beating the draconian car payment is to just pay it off early. I doubt I'll get a refinance on the loan, credit rating not improving as quickly as I need it to be, so one or two late payments is not going to devastate me.
How am I going to get that extra scratch up to early-pay, you ask? Well, my resume is ready and printed up. I found my two-year-old contact list from when I was searching for part-time NYC therapy work. I'm ready to re-apply. I know I'm ready because all week I've been turning on my television and vegetating all evening into the midnight hours, and going to bed late. I've hated that. I've liked the stuff I've watched, evidently, but I hate having had given so much of my time and potential over to the TV. I could have done a dozen things that were productive, like working a second job hello, but instead I've only woken up dizzy and regretful.
TV is the mindkiller. But like all good drugs, we love it!
Meanwhile, as I speak of financial responsibility, I am still planning to buy a digital camera and a few sets of good, going-out-on-the-town clothes this payday.
I need the camera to begin to sell my comicbooks and Doctor Who books on the internet. Hello 3rd source of income. :-)
And too, I'm going to post another picture of another handsome man.
Self-confidence; All-Time High.
Stay tuned ...
Anyway, this payday I'm going to have to be late on my car payment. I have rent to pay, and with the money I have left, I'll need to hit some bills before next payday. If I pay my car note this Friday, I'll have nothing to cover at least two payments that come automatically out of my account, which, as I've discussed ad nauseum, the bank happily still pays for even though I clearly haven't enough money to cover it, then slams me with a 35.00 surcharge. "We choose to pay your bills for you as a courtesy to you," if I recall correctly. That's the kind of response that makes guys go into the belltowers with the high-powered arsenal. For the past three paydays they did and still I've survived. I've taken responsibility and did not grow homicidal. No, I haven't learned how to avoid it yet, but this is just me. I have no credit cards to cover what I can't afford, so I get overdraft charges. And life rolls merrily along. But I'd rather not have to just 'survive' in the next two weeks, so car payment people, save your autodial system please? You're not getting any scratch for at least two more weeks.
My solution for beating the draconian car payment is to just pay it off early. I doubt I'll get a refinance on the loan, credit rating not improving as quickly as I need it to be, so one or two late payments is not going to devastate me.
How am I going to get that extra scratch up to early-pay, you ask? Well, my resume is ready and printed up. I found my two-year-old contact list from when I was searching for part-time NYC therapy work. I'm ready to re-apply. I know I'm ready because all week I've been turning on my television and vegetating all evening into the midnight hours, and going to bed late. I've hated that. I've liked the stuff I've watched, evidently, but I hate having had given so much of my time and potential over to the TV. I could have done a dozen things that were productive, like working a second job hello, but instead I've only woken up dizzy and regretful.
TV is the mindkiller. But like all good drugs, we love it!
Meanwhile, as I speak of financial responsibility, I am still planning to buy a digital camera and a few sets of good, going-out-on-the-town clothes this payday.
I need the camera to begin to sell my comicbooks and Doctor Who books on the internet. Hello 3rd source of income. :-)
And too, I'm going to post another picture of another handsome man.
Self-confidence; All-Time High.
Stay tuned ...
Monday, June 18, 2007
My Comment Evolved Into A Post
I started this as a response to S*, and then it exploded out of the petrie dish and squidged across the floor, eating a lab assistant on its way out of the reinforced doors. (Don't worry, Larry died bravely.)
To quote;
Well where were you back when I hit puberty? :D
Let me make myself clear; my blog is the place I come to do process. So what you see here is me in transition. I'm not looking for excuses to stay the way I am -- I blog to help myself move forward.
All the "stop pitying yourself and move on" is helping, but not enough. I get it that I need to move on with my life. That's why I'm blogging, because I know that.
What I think would help me a little more is to hear something more specific as to how to move on. That is also why I go to therapy. I need a "how to". It's funny in a not-really kind of way, but if I had a patient who came to me with my problem, I'd be able to think it through better for him than I can for myself. Either that, or I'd refer the guy out to another therapist.
Another thing I want to make clear is that I'm not content to pity myself. Pity is not what I want from anyone or from myself.
What I'm looking for is strength. I want the thing that seems to get inside of most people and propels them into relationships, for better or worse.
To that end, I am using the good examples that have been coming into my life in the form of
heroes. <--This link will take you to my more postive process of acknowledging strength so that I may try to acquire it.
When I have less than stellar days, and when I can't find the mechanism to bridge the gap between what I am and what I see in my heroes, I come here to get it out of my system.
But I will tell you something else I got from my therapist--she said that maybe I should just pretend I have the qualities that I'm looking for until I feel like I actually have them. She also suggested that maybe that was how my heroes got to where they are too.
What do you guys think? Is that a "how to"? I'd really like your responses to this one.
To quote;
Well where were you back when I hit puberty? :D
Let me make myself clear; my blog is the place I come to do process. So what you see here is me in transition. I'm not looking for excuses to stay the way I am -- I blog to help myself move forward.
All the "stop pitying yourself and move on" is helping, but not enough. I get it that I need to move on with my life. That's why I'm blogging, because I know that.
What I think would help me a little more is to hear something more specific as to how to move on. That is also why I go to therapy. I need a "how to". It's funny in a not-really kind of way, but if I had a patient who came to me with my problem, I'd be able to think it through better for him than I can for myself. Either that, or I'd refer the guy out to another therapist.
Another thing I want to make clear is that I'm not content to pity myself. Pity is not what I want from anyone or from myself.
What I'm looking for is strength. I want the thing that seems to get inside of most people and propels them into relationships, for better or worse.
To that end, I am using the good examples that have been coming into my life in the form of
heroes. <--This link will take you to my more postive process of acknowledging strength so that I may try to acquire it.
When I have less than stellar days, and when I can't find the mechanism to bridge the gap between what I am and what I see in my heroes, I come here to get it out of my system.
But I will tell you something else I got from my therapist--she said that maybe I should just pretend I have the qualities that I'm looking for until I feel like I actually have them. She also suggested that maybe that was how my heroes got to where they are too.
What do you guys think? Is that a "how to"? I'd really like your responses to this one.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
A Very Honorable Mention
Escape Pod!!
I left a heartfelt comment here, and in the latest episode here, after the new story is read, at the 36:20 mark, Stephen Eley made my response the Comment Of The Week! He read a little bit of it, and now it'll be a part of Escape Pod history forever!
How cool is that? Especially when, at first shopping around with what to do with My Hero's fictional adventures, I asked Stephen if he'd consider fan-fiction for his show. He was very encouraging in his e-mail response, but told me 'no'. Then he invited me to write something that was sellable. Since then the fan-fiction has gone on into audio adventures, and I went on to write a novel in November (still out at Tor Books, sitting in the lap, I hope, of my favorite editor couple, one-half of which I discovered is up for a Hugo award as "Best Professional Editor - Long Form").
And while we're at it, here's a reference to the story that My Other Hero read for Escape Pod, which also made me cry. The fact that Alex lent his voice and his talent to it didn't hurt any. (Alex is another of those Real Men I spoke of earlier).
I left a heartfelt comment here, and in the latest episode here, after the new story is read, at the 36:20 mark, Stephen Eley made my response the Comment Of The Week! He read a little bit of it, and now it'll be a part of Escape Pod history forever!
How cool is that? Especially when, at first shopping around with what to do with My Hero's fictional adventures, I asked Stephen if he'd consider fan-fiction for his show. He was very encouraging in his e-mail response, but told me 'no'. Then he invited me to write something that was sellable. Since then the fan-fiction has gone on into audio adventures, and I went on to write a novel in November (still out at Tor Books, sitting in the lap, I hope, of my favorite editor couple, one-half of which I discovered is up for a Hugo award as "Best Professional Editor - Long Form").
And while we're at it, here's a reference to the story that My Other Hero read for Escape Pod, which also made me cry. The fact that Alex lent his voice and his talent to it didn't hurt any. (Alex is another of those Real Men I spoke of earlier).
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Well, Crap.
Dr. King's daughter died. Thanks to my Friday Night Date, I not only knew who she was, I got to meet her. And now she's gone away. At only 51!!
And this I find on the heels of getting an explanation about a co-worker's continuing struggle with cancer. I blogged about this co-worker before, and now I've learned she's back in chemotherapy 3x's a week.
The woman's going to die. I believe she's said enough to me to indicate that she knows it, and now her co-worker is confidentially spilling the details that she herself won't speak about (I guess he sees me as her boss, since she's in my dept. and I'm the Asst. Director).
And we just keep going through these things in life. We broaden our social circles and reach out for the friendship love of good people, in an effort to grow our humanity, and something like this happens.
I don't want this woman to die. She has highschool-aged children, and a husband. She's being strong for everybody, but what happens in her home when she's gone? What happens at this job?
I saw "The Family Stone" over the Christmas holiday when George put me up in his timeshare in NYC. SPOILER. The audience is told the about the mother's illness in one powerful scene as she confronts her adult son on the choice he's making to marry an unliked girl. She says, "What are you doing?" Tears fill the son's eyes. Then she says, "Are you marrying this girl for me?" The son's mouth gapes with grief. "Getting married is not going to change my illness. You have to stop this and get a girl you actually love." By this time the son is wracked and shaking with wordless sobs.
I paraphrased the mother (played by Diane Keaton)'s words, but that was the jist. I don't know why I didn't blog about it then. I'll never forget it. The actor was the same guy who played Julia Roberts' best friend in "My Best Friend's Wedding." How that actor was able to break down like that was heart-numbing. Oh, and don't think I didn't have a good sob right along with.
So what's going to happen now? And where's my guarantee that this won't happen again? How do I know that Scott, or Alex, or Steve, or Eliel, or My Friend The Doctor, or (oh God please forbid) My Hero won't someday come home with "dreadful news"? How are we expected to survive in the screaming absence of people we love?
It's not fair damn it.
And this I find on the heels of getting an explanation about a co-worker's continuing struggle with cancer. I blogged about this co-worker before, and now I've learned she's back in chemotherapy 3x's a week.
The woman's going to die. I believe she's said enough to me to indicate that she knows it, and now her co-worker is confidentially spilling the details that she herself won't speak about (I guess he sees me as her boss, since she's in my dept. and I'm the Asst. Director).
And we just keep going through these things in life. We broaden our social circles and reach out for the friendship love of good people, in an effort to grow our humanity, and something like this happens.
I don't want this woman to die. She has highschool-aged children, and a husband. She's being strong for everybody, but what happens in her home when she's gone? What happens at this job?
I saw "The Family Stone" over the Christmas holiday when George put me up in his timeshare in NYC. SPOILER. The audience is told the about the mother's illness in one powerful scene as she confronts her adult son on the choice he's making to marry an unliked girl. She says, "What are you doing?" Tears fill the son's eyes. Then she says, "Are you marrying this girl for me?" The son's mouth gapes with grief. "Getting married is not going to change my illness. You have to stop this and get a girl you actually love." By this time the son is wracked and shaking with wordless sobs.
I paraphrased the mother (played by Diane Keaton)'s words, but that was the jist. I don't know why I didn't blog about it then. I'll never forget it. The actor was the same guy who played Julia Roberts' best friend in "My Best Friend's Wedding." How that actor was able to break down like that was heart-numbing. Oh, and don't think I didn't have a good sob right along with.
So what's going to happen now? And where's my guarantee that this won't happen again? How do I know that Scott, or Alex, or Steve, or Eliel, or My Friend The Doctor, or (oh God please forbid) My Hero won't someday come home with "dreadful news"? How are we expected to survive in the screaming absence of people we love?
It's not fair damn it.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
While I Was Successfully Avoiding The News..
(Originally 4/25/07)
...My Other Hero, Alex Wilson, lost his friend at Virginia Tech.
Hate it hate it hate it hate it ...
I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to personalize the horror and the fear and the panic and everything that must have happened in that nine minutes. It's foetal-position worthy and it hurts to really think about it and I just keep typing to avoid the real thoughts but I can't and shouldn't now because My Other Hero's friend died in this and it must hurt him to think about it, and if I care for My Other Hero then I should care for his friend.
I just can't do anything about it but be numb and feel furious. My force of will means nothing. I can't save them. I can't stop the killer. All the fantasy about superheroics and time-traveling Japanese office workers and flying politicians and healing cheerleaders are useless.
My Other Hero's friend, Christopher James Bishop, was killed by a violence that animals don't deserve.
It is not fair.
...My Other Hero, Alex Wilson, lost his friend at Virginia Tech.
Hate it hate it hate it hate it ...
I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to personalize the horror and the fear and the panic and everything that must have happened in that nine minutes. It's foetal-position worthy and it hurts to really think about it and I just keep typing to avoid the real thoughts but I can't and shouldn't now because My Other Hero's friend died in this and it must hurt him to think about it, and if I care for My Other Hero then I should care for his friend.
I just can't do anything about it but be numb and feel furious. My force of will means nothing. I can't save them. I can't stop the killer. All the fantasy about superheroics and time-traveling Japanese office workers and flying politicians and healing cheerleaders are useless.
My Other Hero's friend, Christopher James Bishop, was killed by a violence that animals don't deserve.
It is not fair.
A Little More About Alex And His Story
(Originally 1/11/07)
(Not in that particular order)
The name of his story is "Outgoing". It has a duel meaning. The protagonist is a poet (and so is Alex), and a part of her struggle is that she is an introvert. I don't know what it's like to be a poet, but I think everyone who spends hours at a keyboard, enjoying, reviewing, and typing out the contents of their mind is going to be chiefly an introvert. Alex has expressed his own introversion, yet he was able to go to Clarion, participate in a local improv acting troupe, and most importantly, able to propose to his girlfriend (now wife) and follow through with being a husband.
But he wrote from the familiar territory of wanting to get into one's own space, staying there, and love, love, loving it. Having to see no one else's face, meeting no one else's expectations, breaking no one else's heart, saying nothing wrong to anyone, not subjecting yourself to anyone else's scrutiny, nor being oppressed by anyone else's personality. That part of the story I enjoyed more than any other aspect--not only looking into Alex's heart where introversion lives, but knowing that he is connected to me by the same thread. Connected by our desire not to be connected.
And in the end, whether I like being around people or not (or whether I want to change that or not--and yes, I do), it is always a gratifying, human experience to know that someone you care about understands you.
Ironic isn't it?
(Not in that particular order)
The name of his story is "Outgoing". It has a duel meaning. The protagonist is a poet (and so is Alex), and a part of her struggle is that she is an introvert. I don't know what it's like to be a poet, but I think everyone who spends hours at a keyboard, enjoying, reviewing, and typing out the contents of their mind is going to be chiefly an introvert. Alex has expressed his own introversion, yet he was able to go to Clarion, participate in a local improv acting troupe, and most importantly, able to propose to his girlfriend (now wife) and follow through with being a husband.
But he wrote from the familiar territory of wanting to get into one's own space, staying there, and love, love, loving it. Having to see no one else's face, meeting no one else's expectations, breaking no one else's heart, saying nothing wrong to anyone, not subjecting yourself to anyone else's scrutiny, nor being oppressed by anyone else's personality. That part of the story I enjoyed more than any other aspect--not only looking into Alex's heart where introversion lives, but knowing that he is connected to me by the same thread. Connected by our desire not to be connected.
And in the end, whether I like being around people or not (or whether I want to change that or not--and yes, I do), it is always a gratifying, human experience to know that someone you care about understands you.
Ironic isn't it?
The Other Hero
(Originally 1/6/07)
It only occurred to me after once or twice reading a response from my Other Hero that calling him my "Other" Hero may have been a bit of a slight. That would be chiefly because I'm an idiot. I can't muster enough anti-Me to insult a Hero. Offend, embarrass, and chase away, maybe -- but insult? No.
I had been taken by surprise when I realized that Alex was my hero and I was typing quickly, so after I didn't qualify the primary hero as my 'Spandex Hero' or my 'Superpowered Hero', I needed a quick qualifier to differentiate Alex from Matt. Then of course I got swept into Feedback's superpowered wake, the title stuck, and I had to give Alex a merciful break from my lecherous fanboy advances.
That ends as of this post. I am recaptured by the Heroism of my Other Hero once again.
To recap, my Other Hero earned this title because I went through his Journal and discovered a funny, honest, sensitive and talented young man who had the kind of accomplishments at 29 that I could only dream of. [Grover] And he was cute, too![/Grover] Then suddenly, within weeks of my discovering his innards, he announced that he had a story accepted by Asimov's! But I would have to wait until I got to read it.
Well, last night and today, I read it.
Whatever am I going to do with this foolish little heart of mine? I lose it so easily. I suspected that Alex's self-scouring and self-scrutiny was routinely what we writers partake in, true or no (yes, I'm daring to put myself in his category. That's much more for my uplift than an attempt to drag him down to my level), and I was right. His story is what I expected it to be.
Which is; REAL.
When I say "real", I mean it is on THAT level. There are those of us who dream, and those of us who publish. There is a difference in the work of a fanfiction writer on the internet, and someone who's (whose?) work passes across an editor's desk so that when the editor looks at it they think, "Which issue/month/imprint schedule will we fit this one into?"
Alex is a real writer. When he submitted work to Clarion, they accepted him. When he submitted to Asimov's, they published him.
Now, did I like the story?
On so many levels. On so many.
To begin with, his main protagonist is a black female. This I figured when the character referred in her inner dialog to "white America". White people rarely think about their America as 'white'. For white people, white is just the way it is. Normal. No need to point it out. Every other seems to need it, though. "My black friend", "my deaf friend", "my Italian friend." This was an unexpected scored point to Alex. He is aware of minds that think other to his own. Thank you, Alex.
Then, his protagonist was introduced as a vulnerable child. You want me on-board? Show me a child who is in need, who faces a disadvantage. That, after all, is how I came into the world.
Then, Alex is a humorous man. He knows the funny. He brings it. I chuckled several times during the reading, all full of warmth. Chuckled because there was real humor, and chuckled because I know where Alex journals, and I know how he usually expresses himself, and it was just so truly Alex.
Then, the wording. The prose. The sentence structure. So real. So 'the way professional writers write'. I don't know if editors are the common thread there, and I pray they didn't homogenize my Alex, even if it means the end result is good. But best case scenario, even if, is that Alex has What It Takes.
Then, the story itself. It was science fiction! Really good Science Fiction! I didn't know what Alex had under that shiny pate, but I should've known. If I suspected he was really a writer, I should have known he'd know how to write. Know how to take me places I want to go, and not bore me or deceive me, or force me to call his bluff. I should've known that as soon as Alex told us that an Asimov's editor accepted his story for publication.
I'm only saying all this because I want Alex to know that I know it. I want him to know that I see what's inside there and I want him to take some joy in it. I want him to celebrate and get ready to make more wonder. I want him to be confident and awesome and heroic and beautiful.
And I want to read more stuff, dammit!
Congratulations, Alex Wilson.
You deserve it.
You are a good writer.
It only occurred to me after once or twice reading a response from my Other Hero that calling him my "Other" Hero may have been a bit of a slight. That would be chiefly because I'm an idiot. I can't muster enough anti-Me to insult a Hero. Offend, embarrass, and chase away, maybe -- but insult? No.
I had been taken by surprise when I realized that Alex was my hero and I was typing quickly, so after I didn't qualify the primary hero as my 'Spandex Hero' or my 'Superpowered Hero', I needed a quick qualifier to differentiate Alex from Matt. Then of course I got swept into Feedback's superpowered wake, the title stuck, and I had to give Alex a merciful break from my lecherous fanboy advances.
That ends as of this post. I am recaptured by the Heroism of my Other Hero once again.
To recap, my Other Hero earned this title because I went through his Journal and discovered a funny, honest, sensitive and talented young man who had the kind of accomplishments at 29 that I could only dream of. [Grover] And he was cute, too![/Grover] Then suddenly, within weeks of my discovering his innards, he announced that he had a story accepted by Asimov's! But I would have to wait until I got to read it.
Well, last night and today, I read it.
Whatever am I going to do with this foolish little heart of mine? I lose it so easily. I suspected that Alex's self-scouring and self-scrutiny was routinely what we writers partake in, true or no (yes, I'm daring to put myself in his category. That's much more for my uplift than an attempt to drag him down to my level), and I was right. His story is what I expected it to be.
Which is; REAL.
When I say "real", I mean it is on THAT level. There are those of us who dream, and those of us who publish. There is a difference in the work of a fanfiction writer on the internet, and someone who's (whose?) work passes across an editor's desk so that when the editor looks at it they think, "Which issue/month/imprint schedule will we fit this one into?"
Alex is a real writer. When he submitted work to Clarion, they accepted him. When he submitted to Asimov's, they published him.
Now, did I like the story?
On so many levels. On so many.
To begin with, his main protagonist is a black female. This I figured when the character referred in her inner dialog to "white America". White people rarely think about their America as 'white'. For white people, white is just the way it is. Normal. No need to point it out. Every other seems to need it, though. "My black friend", "my deaf friend", "my Italian friend." This was an unexpected scored point to Alex. He is aware of minds that think other to his own. Thank you, Alex.
Then, his protagonist was introduced as a vulnerable child. You want me on-board? Show me a child who is in need, who faces a disadvantage. That, after all, is how I came into the world.
Then, Alex is a humorous man. He knows the funny. He brings it. I chuckled several times during the reading, all full of warmth. Chuckled because there was real humor, and chuckled because I know where Alex journals, and I know how he usually expresses himself, and it was just so truly Alex.
Then, the wording. The prose. The sentence structure. So real. So 'the way professional writers write'. I don't know if editors are the common thread there, and I pray they didn't homogenize my Alex, even if it means the end result is good. But best case scenario, even if, is that Alex has What It Takes.
Then, the story itself. It was science fiction! Really good Science Fiction! I didn't know what Alex had under that shiny pate, but I should've known. If I suspected he was really a writer, I should have known he'd know how to write. Know how to take me places I want to go, and not bore me or deceive me, or force me to call his bluff. I should've known that as soon as Alex told us that an Asimov's editor accepted his story for publication.
I'm only saying all this because I want Alex to know that I know it. I want him to know that I see what's inside there and I want him to take some joy in it. I want him to celebrate and get ready to make more wonder. I want him to be confident and awesome and heroic and beautiful.
And I want to read more stuff, dammit!
Congratulations, Alex Wilson.
You deserve it.
You are a good writer.
So My Friend The Doctor Told Me...
(Originally 12/15/06)
...that I need to reconnect with my spiritual needs.
This was based on my telling him that I've been feeling "bluesy" lately. It's a word I borrowed from another place to minimize the real deal, which is that I'm a little depressed. Or maybe I'm a lot depressed.
I don't generally have a problem with admitting, or even singing to the rooftops when I'm depressed. I usually tell the exact why, when, and how of the depression. This time I don't really know.
Things are going great. Audio drama, check! Friends with My Hero, che--!
Well.
Hmm.
Actually, maybe that's it. I'm not really friends with Hero like I think I'd like to be. Well, I mean not like I know I'd like to be.
I'll illustrate; I can call My Mentor, who is seriously a friend of mine. When I call him, we could speak for hours. He asks me about my life, I ask him about his. I love his principles and his wisdom. He seems to respect me for mine. He seems also to really care about me. I wouldn't hesitate to say that he loves me. (In the Christian world, saying you love your brother is the norm, and it's one of the best things about Christianity that I actually miss). The same goes with My Friend The Doctor. And even The Grim Jester.
Can that happen with My Hero? The crazy thing is, I think it can? But -- the way it has gone so far has been so magical and so special -- so inspiration and amazing -- how could I survive if I messed that up?
Everything I've seen so far seems to point out that Matt would accept anyone into his life as a new friend. But my own fear is screaming at me, telling me that I'm going to lose everything if I dare push this thing too far. My worse fear is to be rejected and at the same time, I feel like I've already set this up much further than I should have.
My Friend The Doctor knows me enough to know that I'm still searching for a father. I mention that pretty often here as well. But what I don't know is -- when does the searching stop? Guys who HAVE fathers will eventually lose them, so then what happens to them? Do they start searching again? Does a person get enough to last them through the rest of their life after their father is gone? Does becoming a father help solve that search--in effect, transforming the searcher into the object?
And so, will I ever really be done with this pursuit of heroes? If I were ever to get up the courage and take the chance that Hero is the kind of guy that he seems to be (and come on Alan! When has Hero ever let you down before? What the hell is wrong with you? You didn't invent this guy, you never put words into his mouth, and you don't have the ability to force him to do something he doesn't want to. How, truly, can you mess this up by asking him to be what he already is?), will I ever be satisfied with the outcome?
*exhales*
This is probably why guys get married. Guys probably don't use all these words to describe their feelings, but they want to fill an emptiness. Sometimes I wonder if guys only like girls because of the sex, but it seems to me that if I had a girl, I wouldn't be pursuing heroes so passionately. Maybe guys need girls so we can become heroes, instead of chasing heroes around.
Hey. That actually makes sense. What I want from My Friend The Doctor, and My Mentor, and My Hero, and My Other Hero, I actually want for myself. I think they are awesome and I want to be like them. I admire them and I want to be admirable.
That's an answer I can live with.
Now let's see what happens.
...that I need to reconnect with my spiritual needs.
This was based on my telling him that I've been feeling "bluesy" lately. It's a word I borrowed from another place to minimize the real deal, which is that I'm a little depressed. Or maybe I'm a lot depressed.
I don't generally have a problem with admitting, or even singing to the rooftops when I'm depressed. I usually tell the exact why, when, and how of the depression. This time I don't really know.
Things are going great. Audio drama, check! Friends with My Hero, che--!
Well.
Hmm.
Actually, maybe that's it. I'm not really friends with Hero like I think I'd like to be. Well, I mean not like I know I'd like to be.
I'll illustrate; I can call My Mentor, who is seriously a friend of mine. When I call him, we could speak for hours. He asks me about my life, I ask him about his. I love his principles and his wisdom. He seems to respect me for mine. He seems also to really care about me. I wouldn't hesitate to say that he loves me. (In the Christian world, saying you love your brother is the norm, and it's one of the best things about Christianity that I actually miss). The same goes with My Friend The Doctor. And even The Grim Jester.
Can that happen with My Hero? The crazy thing is, I think it can? But -- the way it has gone so far has been so magical and so special -- so inspiration and amazing -- how could I survive if I messed that up?
Everything I've seen so far seems to point out that Matt would accept anyone into his life as a new friend. But my own fear is screaming at me, telling me that I'm going to lose everything if I dare push this thing too far. My worse fear is to be rejected and at the same time, I feel like I've already set this up much further than I should have.
My Friend The Doctor knows me enough to know that I'm still searching for a father. I mention that pretty often here as well. But what I don't know is -- when does the searching stop? Guys who HAVE fathers will eventually lose them, so then what happens to them? Do they start searching again? Does a person get enough to last them through the rest of their life after their father is gone? Does becoming a father help solve that search--in effect, transforming the searcher into the object?
And so, will I ever really be done with this pursuit of heroes? If I were ever to get up the courage and take the chance that Hero is the kind of guy that he seems to be (and come on Alan! When has Hero ever let you down before? What the hell is wrong with you? You didn't invent this guy, you never put words into his mouth, and you don't have the ability to force him to do something he doesn't want to. How, truly, can you mess this up by asking him to be what he already is?), will I ever be satisfied with the outcome?
*exhales*
This is probably why guys get married. Guys probably don't use all these words to describe their feelings, but they want to fill an emptiness. Sometimes I wonder if guys only like girls because of the sex, but it seems to me that if I had a girl, I wouldn't be pursuing heroes so passionately. Maybe guys need girls so we can become heroes, instead of chasing heroes around.
Hey. That actually makes sense. What I want from My Friend The Doctor, and My Mentor, and My Hero, and My Other Hero, I actually want for myself. I think they are awesome and I want to be like them. I admire them and I want to be admirable.
That's an answer I can live with.
Now let's see what happens.
Just What Is A 'Meme' Anyway, And How Is It Pronounced?
(Originally 8/19/07)
Holly Black said, "John Green commanded everyone to fill out this survey and who am I to deny him?" and then she said, "I want everyone who reads this to also fill it out and post it on their blogs, so the procrastination can flow between us all." Then Alex Wilson did so, and I am doing the same. This isn't the only Meme I've ever received, but I am compelled to follow in the size 10.5s of my hero. I will not, however, be wearing a skirt as well. For the record, I do not know who John Green is.
1. FIRST NAME? Alan.
2. ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Yes. My mother said she liked Alan Ladd, from the movie "Shane" No I've never seen the movie. Doesn't look like my cup of tea.
3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? August 17th, 2006.
4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Newp. That's why I write on a keyboard, or I print. Only my signature is nice. Everything looks like I'm five years old, from back when I originally abandonded the skill.
5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Salmon sushi.
6. KIDS? What about them?
7. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Heck yeah. I'm a pretty fabulous person once you get to know me. I'd just better not piss myself off, or I'll dump me like a sack of stale grits.
8. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? Um, you're soaking in it...
9. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Why, yes. Yes I do.
10. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes.
11. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Oh hell no.
12. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Kellogg's Scrambled Eggs, Soft, w/ Bacon.
13. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? If sneakers, then yeh. The one pair I have needs me to peel back a strip of velcro first, and then while I'm down there, and there are these perfectly good set of laces, I figure why not?
14. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? ... Physically, yeh, I got some heft to me. The rest...I might be getting there...
15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Haagen Daas, and thank you so much for bringing it up, you insensitive...
16. SHOE SIZE? 9.5
17. RED OR PINK? Red.
18. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? Shut up.
19. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My innocence.
20. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? Sure! Whoever copies this and fills it out somewhere, post a link in the comments of this post!
21. WHAT COLOR OF PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW? Black baggy shorts, white socks.
22. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE WRITER/BOOK/MOVIE? God/Bible/Ten Comm... HAHA!! I'll have to go with nostalgia... Stephen R. Donalson & Lord Foul's Bane for the books, X2 for the movie.
23, WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The wind bristling through the neighborhood trees.
24. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? "Clear."
25. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE SMELLS? Strawberry Blow Pops, halfway consumed. The icy, buttery waft coming out from an open movie theater door on a summer day. The steam off a Caramel Macchiato. The smell of my cat's head, right between the ears, when I bury my nose in her short fur.
26. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SPOKE ON THE PHONE WITH? A co-worker. It was work-related.
27. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? Men: their muscles--wide shoulders, flat stomach, hint of traps, very heroic. Women: their demeanor, kind words, peaceful center, beautiful expressive eyes which tell that story.
28. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Oh yes, very much.
29. FAVORITE DRINK? Pomegranate Frappacino with 2-3 packets of Equal.
30. FAVORITE SPORT? Web-surfing.
31. HAIR COLOR? Black with white sprinkles at the temples and more in the sideburns and in the goatee.
32. EYE COLOR? Muddy.
33. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Newp.
34. FAVORITE FOOD? Barbequed Baby Back Ribs form Chili's.
35. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDING? Happy happy. Make me cry.
36. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? 1/2 half of "Serenity" I just can't bring myself to 1) Watch **** and **** die, and 2) I just don't want my viewing Firefly days to end.
37. COLOR OF SHIRT YOU ARE WEARING? Orange.
38. WINTER OR SUMMER? Winter, most definitely.
39. HUGS OR KISSES? Don't touch!! Well, okay. Hugs.
40. FAVORITE DESSERT? Jim Dandy from Friendly's, with all Butter Pecan ice cream, Strawberry, Marshmallow, and Pineapple toppings, no cherry. Oh my God....
41. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Dunno, really. I don't think I have what you'd call a fanbase.
42. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? See above.
43. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? Asimov's, Fantasy & Scince Fiction, Analog, "The Privilege of the Sword"
44. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? The mouse.
45. FAVORITE SOUNDS? My cat's meows and purrs. She has several. The "Good Morning", the "Get My Food", the "Come Play With Me", and one that I take to mean "I Have Nothing Specific To Complain About, But I'm Complaining Anyway!"
46. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? Nothing.
47. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles. Oh yes.
48. THE FURTHEST YOU'VE BEEN FROM HOME? West Texas, when I consider my home is New York City--wait, no, make that Germany.
49. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Actually! I can ride a unicycle. I can juggle. Not both at the same time, unless I practice then I probably can. And I can read people like I was a telepath.
50. WHEN AND WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Columbia Presbyterian, Upper West Side of Manhattan, 1964. It was a magical time for New York City. Across the street and four months later, Malcolm X would be assassinated.
Aww, is that the end?
Holly Black said, "John Green commanded everyone to fill out this survey and who am I to deny him?" and then she said, "I want everyone who reads this to also fill it out and post it on their blogs, so the procrastination can flow between us all." Then Alex Wilson did so, and I am doing the same. This isn't the only Meme I've ever received, but I am compelled to follow in the size 10.5s of my hero. I will not, however, be wearing a skirt as well. For the record, I do not know who John Green is.
1. FIRST NAME? Alan.
2. ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Yes. My mother said she liked Alan Ladd, from the movie "Shane" No I've never seen the movie. Doesn't look like my cup of tea.
3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? August 17th, 2006.
4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Newp. That's why I write on a keyboard, or I print. Only my signature is nice. Everything looks like I'm five years old, from back when I originally abandonded the skill.
5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Salmon sushi.
6. KIDS? What about them?
7. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Heck yeah. I'm a pretty fabulous person once you get to know me. I'd just better not piss myself off, or I'll dump me like a sack of stale grits.
8. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? Um, you're soaking in it...
9. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Why, yes. Yes I do.
10. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes.
11. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Oh hell no.
12. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Kellogg's Scrambled Eggs, Soft, w/ Bacon.
13. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? If sneakers, then yeh. The one pair I have needs me to peel back a strip of velcro first, and then while I'm down there, and there are these perfectly good set of laces, I figure why not?
14. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? ... Physically, yeh, I got some heft to me. The rest...I might be getting there...
15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Haagen Daas, and thank you so much for bringing it up, you insensitive...
16. SHOE SIZE? 9.5
17. RED OR PINK? Red.
18. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? Shut up.
19. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My innocence.
20. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? Sure! Whoever copies this and fills it out somewhere, post a link in the comments of this post!
21. WHAT COLOR OF PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW? Black baggy shorts, white socks.
22. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE WRITER/BOOK/MOVIE? God/Bible/Ten Comm... HAHA!! I'll have to go with nostalgia... Stephen R. Donalson & Lord Foul's Bane for the books, X2 for the movie.
23, WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The wind bristling through the neighborhood trees.
24. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? "Clear."
25. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE SMELLS? Strawberry Blow Pops, halfway consumed. The icy, buttery waft coming out from an open movie theater door on a summer day. The steam off a Caramel Macchiato. The smell of my cat's head, right between the ears, when I bury my nose in her short fur.
26. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SPOKE ON THE PHONE WITH? A co-worker. It was work-related.
27. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? Men: their muscles--wide shoulders, flat stomach, hint of traps, very heroic. Women: their demeanor, kind words, peaceful center, beautiful expressive eyes which tell that story.
28. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Oh yes, very much.
29. FAVORITE DRINK? Pomegranate Frappacino with 2-3 packets of Equal.
30. FAVORITE SPORT? Web-surfing.
31. HAIR COLOR? Black with white sprinkles at the temples and more in the sideburns and in the goatee.
32. EYE COLOR? Muddy.
33. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Newp.
34. FAVORITE FOOD? Barbequed Baby Back Ribs form Chili's.
35. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDING? Happy happy. Make me cry.
36. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? 1/2 half of "Serenity" I just can't bring myself to 1) Watch **** and **** die, and 2) I just don't want my viewing Firefly days to end.
37. COLOR OF SHIRT YOU ARE WEARING? Orange.
38. WINTER OR SUMMER? Winter, most definitely.
39. HUGS OR KISSES? Don't touch!! Well, okay. Hugs.
40. FAVORITE DESSERT? Jim Dandy from Friendly's, with all Butter Pecan ice cream, Strawberry, Marshmallow, and Pineapple toppings, no cherry. Oh my God....
41. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Dunno, really. I don't think I have what you'd call a fanbase.
42. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? See above.
43. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? Asimov's, Fantasy & Scince Fiction, Analog, "The Privilege of the Sword"
44. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? The mouse.
45. FAVORITE SOUNDS? My cat's meows and purrs. She has several. The "Good Morning", the "Get My Food", the "Come Play With Me", and one that I take to mean "I Have Nothing Specific To Complain About, But I'm Complaining Anyway!"
46. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? Nothing.
47. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles. Oh yes.
48. THE FURTHEST YOU'VE BEEN FROM HOME? West Texas, when I consider my home is New York City--wait, no, make that Germany.
49. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Actually! I can ride a unicycle. I can juggle. Not both at the same time, unless I practice then I probably can. And I can read people like I was a telepath.
50. WHEN AND WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Columbia Presbyterian, Upper West Side of Manhattan, 1964. It was a magical time for New York City. Across the street and four months later, Malcolm X would be assassinated.
Aww, is that the end?
Monday, May 7, 2007
One More For The Road, or, "The Me I Want To Be"
(Originally June 24 2006)
I've linked to this gentlemen already, but through a wash of genius epiphany I clicked to his Journal and found a more timely source of his adventures.
He is on his way to Clarion and he has a story that's been accepted in Asimov's. In speedreading his archives, I was caught up on his life as well. When he propsed to his now-wife. When his father died. When he got bit by a dog. I watch his short videos. I listen to him read stories. Mancrush? Dude, if I were a chick, his wife would have to hire protection.
He and I traded some emails and messages over at FanBoard and he's responsive, friendly and has a good sense of humor. Ere I want to say I "know" him...not as well as I "know" Scott Hinze but way better than I "know" Wil Wheaton, if you know what I mean. Viva la Internet!
And so here I sit living another vicarious life. Alex has blogged, others do not, but many live the kind of life he does. Many people get married. A nice number of people get published. So I'm not idolizing him, just happy to have made the briefest of connections with such a one. I'm just trying to process that none of the above accomplishments are mine.
At 41 yrs of age, it's as if my haydays (heydays? heydaze?) are over. Then, resisting self-pity I say to myself "No! You're not done until you're dead! And if your faith is true, you won't be done then either!" By eavesdropping on Alex's life, I recognize that I lack the serious drive it takes to achieve stuff. This dude has an organization, media outlets, published works, and a wife all before the age of thirty. Could be he has Attention Deficit that would blow the meter out of the lab, but he is doing the damn thing.
Comparing myself to successful people is not wise, I know. I need to realize that although it feels like I am a lump (see; BIG LUMP) of inert organic matter leeching off the biosphere that we like to call "Earth" (in general and my Benefactor in particular), I am making progress. Every paycheck that I am not spending on comicbooks and buttercreamed birthday cakes, and daily lunches in Manhattan or pounds of Jellybelly beans, I am repairing the debt I created. When this season of deprived freedom is over, I will be a more financially-sound Fortysomething American than 85% of the country's population. Give or take 0.119837% Can that be bad?
No, not bad. Just boring.
Okay, this is the part where you send me love, because don't even get me started on the accomplishments of my oldest friend, and what she's provided for her children. Or my other oldest friend, (her brother) and what's HE'S accomplished. Or the accomplishments of my No-Longer-Soon-To-Be-But-Now-IS-A-Doctor friend and his expectant wife. Or...
*slap*
Now stop that.
I've linked to this gentlemen already, but through a wash of genius epiphany I clicked to his Journal and found a more timely source of his adventures.
He is on his way to Clarion and he has a story that's been accepted in Asimov's. In speedreading his archives, I was caught up on his life as well. When he propsed to his now-wife. When his father died. When he got bit by a dog. I watch his short videos. I listen to him read stories. Mancrush? Dude, if I were a chick, his wife would have to hire protection.
He and I traded some emails and messages over at FanBoard and he's responsive, friendly and has a good sense of humor. Ere I want to say I "know" him...not as well as I "know" Scott Hinze but way better than I "know" Wil Wheaton, if you know what I mean. Viva la Internet!
And so here I sit living another vicarious life. Alex has blogged, others do not, but many live the kind of life he does. Many people get married. A nice number of people get published. So I'm not idolizing him, just happy to have made the briefest of connections with such a one. I'm just trying to process that none of the above accomplishments are mine.
At 41 yrs of age, it's as if my haydays (heydays? heydaze?) are over. Then, resisting self-pity I say to myself "No! You're not done until you're dead! And if your faith is true, you won't be done then either!" By eavesdropping on Alex's life, I recognize that I lack the serious drive it takes to achieve stuff. This dude has an organization, media outlets, published works, and a wife all before the age of thirty. Could be he has Attention Deficit that would blow the meter out of the lab, but he is doing the damn thing.
Comparing myself to successful people is not wise, I know. I need to realize that although it feels like I am a lump (see; BIG LUMP) of inert organic matter leeching off the biosphere that we like to call "Earth" (in general and my Benefactor in particular), I am making progress. Every paycheck that I am not spending on comicbooks and buttercreamed birthday cakes, and daily lunches in Manhattan or pounds of Jellybelly beans, I am repairing the debt I created. When this season of deprived freedom is over, I will be a more financially-sound Fortysomething American than 85% of the country's population. Give or take 0.119837% Can that be bad?
No, not bad. Just boring.
Okay, this is the part where you send me love, because don't even get me started on the accomplishments of my oldest friend, and what she's provided for her children. Or my other oldest friend, (her brother) and what's HE'S accomplished. Or the accomplishments of my No-Longer-Soon-To-Be-But-Now-IS-A-Doctor friend and his expectant wife. Or...
*slap*
Now stop that.
This Is Me, All Re-Inspired An Stuf
(Originally May 31 2006)
Trading a few posts with this guy has re-sparked my blogging.
I don't have much to say right now, but it will probably get more wordy as I tap away.
Anyway, I'm still going to the gym since last post and I've lost 6 pounds. My tummy is still convex, nudging the keyboard ever so slightly and creating a rest for my thumbs. I wonder what all is really in there? Fluid? Yellow waxy globs of fat? Intestines? What makes it bulge out so? Why do I have the same organs as the fellows at the gym, and yet they can carry theirs behind a vertical shield, and mine strains out like it wants to be born? I dunno either and I can't afford an ultrasound, so I'm just going to keep plugging away. The very second I can afford liposuction, I'm getting it.
I'm still letting my creditors snatch money out of my accounts. In two more months, I will have paid off two of them. That also means in two months, I will not be flirting with overdraft charges that occur when creditors take their share. My banking prowess remains legendary. I simply need to have more money IN there before I will stop overdrafting. I'm old enough now to know I have this fault that won't go away. I have a positive balance today and I'm hungry? Then I'm going to spend the money and leave tomorrow to fend for itself. Cha-ching!
I still live with My Benefactor and I still do not trust or like him. He still is a functioning, uppermiddleclass junkie. If he were a black man and lived in an inner-city, you would call him a crackhead. I still do not like his son, who smokes pot everytime he comes for a visit and barges into my room to ask if I can smell it on him, which yes, every single time I can, you $@#hole, and no for the millionth time, I don't think it's funny or cool now get away from me before I spend the rest of my life in jail because of your trifling, disgusting $@#.
I still love my job. I feel prevented to describe it as much as I would like to because of client confidentiality. But it keeps me busy and I swoon with job satisfaction at least 3x's a week. I mean lookit--it's already June. Half of 2006 is about to be over. A blur.
I saw X-Men: The Last Stand and was instantly inspired to write the next screenplay in the series which the producers say will not happen. (I did the same thing back in 2000 when the first X-Men came out. In fact, I think I'll put my old thing online now since it will never be anything more than harmless fanfiction at this point.
Okay, that's all for now.)
Trading a few posts with this guy has re-sparked my blogging.
I don't have much to say right now, but it will probably get more wordy as I tap away.
Anyway, I'm still going to the gym since last post and I've lost 6 pounds. My tummy is still convex, nudging the keyboard ever so slightly and creating a rest for my thumbs. I wonder what all is really in there? Fluid? Yellow waxy globs of fat? Intestines? What makes it bulge out so? Why do I have the same organs as the fellows at the gym, and yet they can carry theirs behind a vertical shield, and mine strains out like it wants to be born? I dunno either and I can't afford an ultrasound, so I'm just going to keep plugging away. The very second I can afford liposuction, I'm getting it.
I'm still letting my creditors snatch money out of my accounts. In two more months, I will have paid off two of them. That also means in two months, I will not be flirting with overdraft charges that occur when creditors take their share. My banking prowess remains legendary. I simply need to have more money IN there before I will stop overdrafting. I'm old enough now to know I have this fault that won't go away. I have a positive balance today and I'm hungry? Then I'm going to spend the money and leave tomorrow to fend for itself. Cha-ching!
I still live with My Benefactor and I still do not trust or like him. He still is a functioning, uppermiddleclass junkie. If he were a black man and lived in an inner-city, you would call him a crackhead. I still do not like his son, who smokes pot everytime he comes for a visit and barges into my room to ask if I can smell it on him, which yes, every single time I can, you $@#hole, and no for the millionth time, I don't think it's funny or cool now get away from me before I spend the rest of my life in jail because of your trifling, disgusting $@#.
I still love my job. I feel prevented to describe it as much as I would like to because of client confidentiality. But it keeps me busy and I swoon with job satisfaction at least 3x's a week. I mean lookit--it's already June. Half of 2006 is about to be over. A blur.
I saw X-Men: The Last Stand and was instantly inspired to write the next screenplay in the series which the producers say will not happen. (I did the same thing back in 2000 when the first X-Men came out. In fact, I think I'll put my old thing online now since it will never be anything more than harmless fanfiction at this point.
Okay, that's all for now.)
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