Tonight, as so many others, has been one of ups and downs- far more ups than downs, in fact, really only one noteable down, but we'll cover all our bases in a moment. First, an apology- the last time I tried to update my blog was my last day of employment at Burger King- as of, well, a while ago now, I am officially unemployed, and almost blissfully so. I quit to give myself time to enjoy my the holiday return of my friends before I jet off to California in January, an event that is approaching entirely too quickly for my liking. My last night, I wrote a long, probably almost touching entry, and then the Burger King computer ate it. One last insult to add to a big, long injury. But, as far as employers go, BK was my best, out of two, and I shall miss it. Now out of the past, and onto the present.

The day started out, if we count from midnight, with Kris (who is spending the weekend here), Zack and I on a futon, totally wasted from the hour- you know that time, where you laugh at everything whether it's funny or not? It had been too long since I'd experienced it, but we made up for that, just me and two of the best men I'll ever know. From that time, I must report, came the quote of the day-

Zack: (Talking about the top of a pumpkin-shaped flashlight...type thing) Hmmmm...my fingers are ins a pumpkin.
Kris: (Talking about me.) It's rude to call her that.
Linda: Hey! *Hits Kris* Shut up. I'm prettier than a pumpkin.
Kris: Yes. At least, until midnight.
Linda: But it's after midnight.
Kris: We know.

At this point, I commenced climbing on top of him and beating him mercilessly. Sometime after that, Kris retired to my room and Zack and I...uh, eventually slept. We woke up together...eventually got up, and got kris out of bed. Zack ate leftover chinese from the day before, Kris had some sort of nutrient shake, and I had a traditional breakfast of turkey bacon and honeycomb. Sometime after a stint of Zack taping random objects to my pants, the three of us got into a milk and water fight. Kris showered, Zack left, and Kris and I played Super Monkey Ball 2 on his gamecube until Kris got hungry. I showered and then we went out to get more chinese food, as well as supplies for the ensuing get together.

In theory, it would have been everyone- Kris, Chad, Nick, Ben, Casey and I, but no one really thought Chad would show, and Ben (who the date was set around) had to cancel last minute due to a "family event", also popularly called "unscheduled nookie." This left Nick to pick up Casey, who was kept late at the salt mill (Calendar Store), so Nick arrived, sans our fourth. I panicked as to Casey's whereabouts, as Nick and Casey had merely missed each other, with no explanation, then we ate, then I panicked some more. Ultimately, we got in touch with Casey and he drove down on his own, at least as far as McDonald's, where we met him, and we came home to my house to spend the first two hours fast-forwarding to the good scenes of "Original Sin". I don't know how this activity managed to take up more of our time than watching the actual movie would have, but somewhere in there that we established that Casey's sexual interest was vested in Antonio Banderas rather than Angelina Jolie, mine in some Nuns, Nick's in a football from my floor, and Kris in the three of us. Casey was wearing a shirt with a place to add velcro letters that I just happened to own, so I wrote out "ANTONIO" with a heart on it- this bears mention because our next endeavor, after searching a movie for nipples (which we realized was pathetic soon after the fact) was to go outside and attempt to play football in my yard, in December, at night. We lost the football in some of the trees, and as I was taking a flashlight to search for it, who should come by but our neighborhood's friendly law enforcement, a woman who called us all up to her car to ask what we were up to. We explained we were playing football in my yard, and she asked each of our names- I shined a light on each of them as they told her, and she asked if we had been involved in any white supremacy-related violence in the area. We told her that we hadn't, of course, but I think our silent testimony- namely Casey's "*Heart* ANTONIO" shirt was what really redeemed us.

Just in case it never happens to you, if you're outside playing football with three of your geeky male friends from Auburn, and the worst felony between the four of you is pretending to be of age to get into porn sites, and a cop asks you if you've been involved in any racist violence in the area, let me tell you- it is so difficult not to laugh in said cop's face.

After that we gave up the search for the football and just started to play tackle, which resulted in Casey and I running for our dear lives away from the combined tonnage of Nick and Kris (no offense to them, of course), and after sustaining multiple injuries, we went inside. I had intended for us to read the new parts of a play about my friends that Andrew and I have just begun to start writing again, after a year of hiatus, but I could not find the diskette and only managed to crack a lightbulb among the chaos of my room, making it even more hazardous than it was, so Casey and I messed with people on my buddy list as Kris and Nick played a rousing game of kerplunk, then positions switched, then eventually we all grew bored of everything. I don't know, somewhere around their Nick and Casey left...but I've somehow missed the essence of the evening. I miss hanging out with a group, especially that group. Tonight was the highlight of my month, I think, what with all our hijinks and catting around. I can't explain how good it feels to laugh when all your friends are laughing with you, or to look at Angelina Jolie's breasts bounce with Antonio Bandera's momentum while sandwiched between the roused laps of three of your male friends, or to be interrogated for possible involvement in a racist crime while standing next to a guy in a "*Heart* ANTONIO" shirt. Kris's persistent, obnoxious humor, Nick's undying criticism of Lisbon, and Casey's uncanny timing and humor made tonight wonderful. So good to hang out with old friends, and absolutely delightful to start so well with new ones. If every night could be this good, I wouldn't be going through the bored-out-of-my-mind pre-midlife crisis that I am. I need more nights like this one, and very little else.

It wasn't all good, though. After Nick and Casey left, I got to talking to Kris about certain stresses I've had on me lately, as well as one thing I'm not accustomed to dealing with- regret. Regret isn't something I've believed in in the past, having a "what's done is done" attitude going on, but tonight, I indulged in a little shameful self-loathing, and expressed some things to Kris that I've been reluctant to talk about with anyone else, but things that I've needed to get off of my chest. I talked and he listened with unparalleled attention and concern, and- this was the thing I appreciated- the moment my voice cracked, the very same moment, he got up from his chair and kneeled before me and held me to him as I cried. It had been a long time since I'd cried to anyone other than Zack. I needed to do it. And the way he was there for me- the way he promised that he always would be, and he gave me his word that things would get better for me, that it would work out- it was wonderful. Kris is wonderful.

How I've lived so long with all these people far away from me is beyond my imagination, but I'm grateful to have them back, if only for a short time. Perhaps I'll get to see them again between now and the time I'm leaving on a jet plane, perhaps not...but if not, when we get the oppurtunity again, it's going to rock.

I'd like to end on a more impressive, satisfying note than "it's going to rock", but it's almost four AM, and lucidity escapes me as quickly as my talent with words does. So, let that be all for tonight, because tonight isn't one of those nights where I'll go to sleep, wondering why I let another day waste. And that's good enough for me.

On with it.

Okay, now that I've got all the talking I need out of the way, and in such an extremely condensed way that I feel I could sleep all night now, after having gone through that ordeal, let's get this very clear: I am too young, too immature, too irrational and too inexperienced. I have not been dating Zack long enough, nor have I even known him long enough, nor has he had enough life experience. Yes, he is still in high school, yes, both of us, at current, have crummy, underpaid jobs, yes, I have seemingly yet to resolve my fidelity issues entirely, as well as issues from my romantic past. Your damn right if you think we may have arrived at this illogically, and if you've got something to say about how I was adimant, before, that this kind of thing was not for me, that's because you apparently know me rather well. Oh, yeah, and both he and I are both prone to neurotic, if not psychotic activity- in fact, this is the same guy who used to wear a necklace of my yearbook picture around his neck to get to sleep! I'm the same girl who was sent to Saint Mary's mental ward due to suicide threats on THIS VERY BLOG. Yes, I am his first girlfriend, and yeah, we've only been dating for three months.

But, to get the news out of the way, Zack and I are now engaged. There you have it. So all that shit up there, as well as anything you can feel free to add to the list, can fuck the fuck off. We'll deal. You, on the other hand, have no obligation to.

Congratulations to me, from me, and from relatively no one else. Props to those who have been genuinely supportive, namely Casey, Andrew, Jenn and Jacquie, and the rest of you...well, you've got your oppurtunity now, don't you?

I apologize for the abrasiveness of this post towards those of you who are emotionally vulnerable due to this announcement, but I am going to now commence with being happy for myself and my fiancé because YES, I do love him and YES! he does love me.

On with it.

Another great Casey moment....much as all of them tend to be. It's past due that I mention Casey is the shiznit. So let's go straight to the conversation. It's edited a great deal for content....Casey tends to get told everything, as he's one person I genuinely have no reason to hide anything from. That also means that there are references in there to something that a lot of you don't know about yet, but I intend to everyone about it whom I meant to before announcing it publicly tonight, and I doubt anyone really bothers to read the Casey/Me conversations I post here anyway. Your loss. Casey's the boi, boi!

Linda: you realize it's impossible to read your icon if you don't already know what it says, right?
Casey: yeah, I figured.
Casey: I should have stuck with "cool like adolf"
Linda: nah, hold up a minute
Linda: I designed one that's slightly clearer
Casey: ah. you cropped the opening graphic thing. thanks.
Linda: haha, yeah, designed wasn't really the right word
Linda: but it shows better
Casey: it does, thanks.
Linda: I could actually design one...
Casey: don't worry about it. get a hobby. obsess about your fiancé.
Linda: you know what sucks, is tic tac toe
Linda: no one ever fucking wins, and if they do, it's inevitably because they had the first turn and got the middle square
Casey: word
Linda: why would I obsess over my fiancé? He's not even somebody that I could potentially cheat on him with...
Casey: hahah.
Linda: I've decided that what I should do- and what I probably won't end up doing out of sheer laziness and apathy- is right a handbook for what I am and am not allowed to do
Linda: my biggest problem in a situation where I could cross a line is that I have no idea WHEN that line is crossed until it's glaringly obvious from three miles behind me
Linda: I was thinking about writing a really, really intensive legal-sounding study of what is and is not appropriate, making it into a pamphlet, having people quiz me on it until it was memorized and then carrying around copies to give to people as a quick
explanation when I'm in a potentially infidelous situation
Casey: wow. you've got a problem.
Linda: A week ago, I'd barely evne thought about it my past any longer. But my counselor always used to tell me these things are natural, and they're okay, because I'm still young, and, quote, "this is the reason you don't have a ring on your finger"
Casey: uh-oh
Linda: I'm never even enjoying these thigns by the time they get to the point where it's definitely wrong, because I'm already obsessing over whether or not it's already definitely wrong....it's just that I have a problem stopping things.
Casey: I see. uh, maybe your fiancé should write this manual.
Linda: I don't want him to know I even need a manual
Linda: telling him that I'm afraid of my own weakness to the point of having to obsess over it this much....how afraid is that going to make him?
Casey: maybe write each other manuals. men have a greater tendency to cheat, so he'll assume you're worried about him.
Linda: besides, I can put realistic demands on myself, so long as I'm not in that situation. Looking back on them, I know exactly where they should have stopped.
Linda: ha! ha ha ha!!!
Casey: ok, nevermind.
Linda: firstly, Zack knows very well about my past. Secondly..yeah, he wouldn't cheat on me...he's one of those incredibly devoted guys
Linda: Anyways, I can write a realistic manual. I can give myself leeway to joke around with friends, masturbate to the idea of random strangers, and distract you from ethnography and very clearly rule out anything that will hurt me, him, or anyone
else involved.
Linda: If I had the drive.
Linda: Wanna get paid to write a manual for me?
Casey: I'm a bit backed up in terms of writing right now
Casey: especially when it comes to things I'm not qualified to discuss.
Linda: yeah, but come on, think about it- this is going to get distributed to any and every person that I get into questionable sexual situations with. Your work would be more widely read than Stephen King.
Casey: huh. I'll think about it.
Linda: They'd have it in drawers in hotels, right next to the bible
Casey: ha.
Linda: they'd start distributing it with the phone book
Casey: aite, I've got to go to work now. I'll talk to you later.
Linda: lata. what time you there till?
Casey: uh, 9 I think.
Casey: the duration
Linda: perhaps I'll show, if I can find someone to drag
Linda: preferrably a straight female so I don't cheat on Zack during the car ride
Linda: don't look even vaguely attractive tonight, though- I don't want to lose control and hand you a marker.
Casey: understood.
Linda: later, el casey-nova

So yeah...my humblest apologies if you read that and you happen to be one of the people that I should have addressed certain things that were made obvious in that one-on-one before I could get to you. I assure you, I meant to. But fuck it, saves me the trouble of having to be the bearer of- in your cases- bad news, right?

Ah, I so easily could have edited. I'm an insensitve bitch. On with it.

My love for the number 37 does NOT extend to it's converse- having played MASH online enough times so that I remember, partially, which selections will be chosen for my genuine favorite number (for instance it's always the mansion, and always whatever I put in the first slot for number of kids) I decided it was only fair to mix it up a bit and let fate play it's part. I decided 73 was a logical choice. Motherfucker.

You will live in Shack
You will drive a White Hyundai Elantra.
You will marry Zack and have 3 kids.
You will be a Masseuse in Lewiston.

Aside from marrying Zack, those are by far the worst MASH results I've ever received. I do not want any children, aside from one I plan to adopt late in life, I don't want to be a masseuse for the rest of my life, and I'd rather die than stay in the lisbon area, let alone live in Lewiston- in a shack??? I can put up with an Elantra, even hating white as I do, but my other options were a Porsche, Harley, SAAB, and that new mid-sized Kia SUV thing...maybe it's called a sorrento?

I always put in at least one option I don't really like in every category, because it seems fair, but damn...that sucks. I'm going to use the exact same options I did, but go back and use 37. I already know I'll be living in a mansion, let's find out where, though.

As I'm waiting, I can tell you what it's crossing off- the very first thing it determined is that I will not marry Zack...bastards...Nor Casey....Nor Elorza...oh, man, that makes it down to Jeff and Chad. I'm either a stripper or a Poet....Poet...Chad...Red Harley...no kids...Tijuana.....

I'm going to be a poet living in a Tijuana mansion with Chad and no children, driving a red Harley. I always, always, always get Chad and a Harley. Goddamnit. I'm changing the order of this bullshit, and I'm going to use a totally new number......84.

Some of the options are changed, but I've set it to do it's worse. This is the definitive one, Ladies and Gentlemen. For tonight, anyway. I got dishes to do.

You will live in Mansion.
You will drive a Silver Harley.
You will marry Zack and have 2 (natural) kids.
You will be a Author in Tijuana.

Ahhh dip, it's all good. 'Cept that 2 kids thing....but as long as it's not till our late thirties, and they grow up looking like a perfect cross between their mother and father- a boy and a girl, let's say, the boy with his father's...ah, fuck, his father's everything, except maybe my skin and my hair color. The girl, though, she'll have his gorgeous hair, and my shape of eyes, but bigger, like his. I can't decide on her lips, because I like both of ours, maybe some perfect combination. Characteristically, be independent like me but devoted like him. They'll have my strength and his sensitivity. They'll have my ambition and his work ethic. And they'll be able to speak Spanish, growing up in Tijuana and all, but I'll teach them french and italian (I'll know it by then), and he can send them beautiful foreign poetry that they'll understand better than he does. We'll always tell them how beautiful and intelligent they are, and they'll never have to doubt anything.

Maybe they won't ever have to work at a meaningless job, but I do, so I'm done for now. On with it.

Jeff currently has a story-snippet posted on his blog that's incredibly well-written. Even knowing, as I always have, what he is capable of, I am taken aback by it- the precise vocabulary, the vivid mood, his ability to put so much into so little. Right now, I am wishing I were half the writer he was.

I'm also, however, wishing I weren't at work, so I don't have time to sit around and praise friends and ex-lovers and the like. I must start cooking up a storm.

Big day today, though. Even if not for the fact that I should be working, it's probably best that iron out all the potentially wrinkled edges before going and making the events of this evening public domain....I don't know if that even made sense. I've been awake for 35 straight hours...which isn't as impressive as I thought it would be...but I've got five hours left of my shift, and a fe things to take care of before I can go home and finally find my bed....and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep....

Fucking poem. On with it.

I am sad and angry. Everything I was looking forward to has past or fallen apart.

Things are okay when Zack's here. He's not right now.

I've been in bed all day, but I wish I could fall back to sleep now. I don't want to stay conscious and wait for the handful of people who would be able to make this bullshit better to do it when they aren't going to. I don't want to foster any hope for this night. I want to cut my losses, let them drift away, and turn my back to them.

The only person who ever bothered for me when I waited to be bothered for was Chad. And look where that got me.

I am sad and angry. Only sad and angry, right? I can't really have this much bitterness.

I'm angry at even people I'm never angry at...because my ideas are never good enough, it's never what she wants to do. I'm trying to wonder if she ever does what I want to do, instead of me following her to what she wants to do, because I feel like saying it's true, but I don't want to make accusations that aren't true. Emily used to do that to me, I refuse to be that short-sighted. I will look at the evidence, and I will decide if my anger is rational. But I'm angry anyway, and I never think I have a reason to be angry at her. All I ever want is to do things we can both enjoy together, more than we normally do. It always seems like she thinks it's a bad idea.

I'm angry at him, but not for the reason anyone would think- it's not his fault. I'm angry at him because he won't give me anything as a consolation prize...I am disappointed, and he is sorry, but that is the extent of it. There will be no effort on his part to assure me that this is an isolated event (granted, it already isn't) or that it wasn't nessecary- that my wanting things to be perfect and wanting to be able to show him a good time and wanting to be able to talk in a way we haven't gotten an oppurtunity to before, that all that was a nice thought, but that I'm already important to him as it is, even if I can't get to it, and that we can still talk, we can still be deep with each other. The disappointment is passing. But the idea that these aren't failed plans, it's the beginning of a failed friendship...that's gonna stay with me. I just wish he could shed his stoic outer layer for a moment to realize that somebody he's supposed to care about is hurting, that it's very simple and very plain what she needs, and that he's the only one that can do it. I wish he could stop pretending not to care long enough to pretend he does.

And as for the rest of the world, the Bens, the Chads, the Emilys and all the other scholars, I want to know why I'm not important enough to try for any longer. I want to know why it's okay just to let me drift. I want to know why you aren't holding on, and why do you seem to think that I'll be okay? I want to know why I'm not worth it, why it's okay to keep me blocked or be kept blocked or not to call me back. Why I'm not worth an e-mail asking me if I'm alright any longer. Why you stopped thinking enough of me to stop what you were doing to call and check up. Why this is happening to me.

I am sad and I am angry. I am scared and I am alone. That must be all. I can't really have this much regret and hatefulness.

Can I? On with it.

So I should be seeing Elorza, well, technically TOMORROW, but, for all intents and purposes, two days from now- Friday. This depends very heavily on his ability to actually get back to me- a whopping day in advance- to let me know if he'll be able to make it and to help me cement our plans. I love the kid, and I love that he's willing to go out of his way to see me, but I'll be very disappointed if this goes under, for whatever reason.

I realized today that I desperately miss Mitch, and that I am very much ashamed of my negligence towards the....well, the most recent part of our friendship, I guess. I was going to refer to it as the end, but neither of us have expressed any desire to stop trying, and the fact that we seemingly HAVE, in practice, doesn't seem to nessecarily mean that either of us wants to anytime soon. It's my current contention that one of these days- hopefully soon- I will find the self-discipline to sit right down and write him an e-mail long and nice enough to revamp our weary friendship in one single, spectacular effort...he always did make my efforts feel appreciated. I don't know how I've done without that for so long.

The christmas vacation of those who go to orono, I've found, is dissapointingly taking place mostly in january, when I will have jetted off to massage school to be all the glorified hooker I can be. They key tradgedy in this is Nick, who is my closest friend at Orono, but there are countless otehrs that I was looking forward to the chance of seeing. Hopefully, this summer will be able to make up for it.

My sister is evidently moving out of the house this weekend- somehow, Tony and her have finally managed to procure an apartment. Were I confident that this living situation would be permanent, I would be rejoicing at this point, but neither my mother nor I nor anyone with a sense of pattern-recognition thinks that this will be something Cathy and Tony will be responsible enough to keep. If I have left you in the dark about the grim, sickly reality of my sister's troglodyte fiance, let me make a few things clear- he is a classless, deadbeat high-school drop out with no job, no driver's license, and no personal hygiene, and he is the only person in the world I consistently identify my feelings for as pure hatred. If that description led you, as it might, to believe that my snubbing of him is based on a judgemental since of superiority due to his social upbringing and lack of accomplishments, I should also include that along with his lazy, unclean uselessness, he is also an ASSHOLE. He treats my parents badly, he treats my sister badly, he treats my nephew badly, and given the oppurtunity to interact with me on a even more nauseatingly regular basis, he would treat me worse than all of them combined- he assumes, from the way I interact with him, that I am harsh and cold to all my friends, that there is nothing in the world that I care about, and that I am a self-centered snob. I patently deny everything but the self-centered...and hell, with people like him lurking about everywhere, what reason do I have not to appreciate someone like me?

There are two more hinderances to my potential feelings of glee at the upcoming absence of my sister, my nephew, and my arch-nemesis: one is simply that I am afraid of what might happen to Austin, who will be left alone to the devices of my sister's waning sanity and Tony's exploding temper, no longer with the protection of my parents, or of me- I like to be the one that takes Austin out of the room, sometimes out of the house when tempers are flaring between the other four, or, rather, I don't like to, but most times, I'm the only one who thinks to. I am sickened by the idea that my nephew will no longer have the relative sanctuary of a house with not two but four neurotic parent figures, and me. I wish, frankly, that it were only Cathy and Tony that were leaving, and that Austin could be given the chance of relative normalcy, instead of the destiny of a depraved school-shooter that is almost certainly his.

The second additional hinderance: my sister is pregnant.

I hesistate to say the thoughts I've had about this into type, lest everyone on earth should see me for the darkest, sickest part of me- suffice to say, there is no joy surrounding this for me. I could go into endless details about the affect that the idea of being linked to Tony, through a common child, all of the rest of our lives is- Tony is, happily, not Austin's father, and I cannot imagine that I could bring myself to love him the same otherwise, whether that is unfair or not. I am fearing now that, somehow, someway, fifteen years from now my future niece of nephew- Tony's future son or daughter- will for some reason read this, and be hurt. I fear the regret I would feel in that situation, and thus feel compelled to make one thing clear now- I am eighteen years old. I have seen my family reduced to an angry, tragic group of uninspired people over the past year, due very much to Tony's presence, and I am furious. I do not now understand the potential I have to love people, and I do not know understand the circumstances under which I will grow to know the future children of my sister, or the way we might mutually become a part of each other's lives. Everything I say now, I say not as an aunt that will more than likely grow to love this child as preciously as I do all my family, but as someone who has endured a great deal of anguish languished on her by someone she hates very much. When I grow, I will learn not to blame my problems on the innocent, or even as much on the guilty. I will learn to accept the mistakes of others for what they are, and not to carryaround the dark feelings that I currently do. I will love, as I do now, and moreso. If this is fifteen years from now, and you are my sister's child, do not think I don't care for you. I do.

I could tell of the way I reacted to the news of my sister's pregnancy, or of that whole day, or today, or tomorrow even, but I have work to get back to- burger king calls, as it tends to. Three more hours and I can go home and sleep.

I hope I'll be tired.

On with it.

I'm going to see Elorza in 11 days.

Life is currently VERY GOOD!

ON WITH IT!

Lately, I've been fostering inadvertent appreciations to music I'd been previously hellbent on hating. The first, and by far most trafic, example that comes to mind is "Silver (motherfucking) Springs" by (god-foresaken) Fleetwood (goddamned) Mac. I was at work, in the kitchen when it came on the radio, and listening to it in the background, I heard the exact same lyrics that I had, in the past, mocked with vigorous cynicism- "And did you say she was pretty? And did you say she loves you? Baby, I don't want to know." As you might imagine, it's the genuine PUSSYNESS of this statement that had made me chuckle* at the very idea of it. The feminity factor of those lyrics is astounding...and laughable. However, hearing those exact same lyrics just a few days ago, my exact reaction- said in a pained, whining girl voice, was "Ohmygod, this song is so GOOD!"

The reaction came from the multiple ways one could relate a song like this to my own life, from my recent examination of painful past events that I'd put off thinking about for a while, from my sudden understanding of where the singer was coming from. If you want to get technical. If you want to look at it the way I soon thereafter looked at it, however, the reaction came from the fact that I AM TURNING INTO A GODDAMN WOMAN.

For those of you who have never met me, and do not know me in real life, (IE, some german guy who accidentally surfed in having typed "my daughter masturbates with me" into a search engine) my masculine side is very important to me. I have fought to keep it the prominent aspect of my personality. My contempt for a woman's irrationality, jealousy, and insecurity makes me run towards the man in me with the speed and determination of an olympic hurddlist. Having heard myself say somethign that was so indicative of my inner woman, my immediate response was to slap myself. Then, when I got the oppurtunity, I called Jeff.

The other day, Mark and I determined that Jeff and I had a gay relationship- as opposed to past relationships, where the male generally played the role of the female (sensitive, committed, deeply conversational) leaving me with the role of the guy (thick-skinned, unfaithful, reserved), Jeff and I's relationship was wrought with joking verbal abuse that didn't afford a female role at all. Jeff, consequently, was a great source of my masculinity- he was before and has been since our relationship, but I spent more time interacting with him, understandably, when we were together. This, truly, was a great time for the man in me. Bring on the porn, bring on the barbecue, bring on the mock-racist cruelty and scorching sarcasm. I was man, hear me fart.

When I called, Jeff was going to visit me for a few minutes and infuse me with a breath of stinking male air, but circumstances forbade, so he gave me a little pep talk and told me he hoped that, from then on, the radio and fate would be kinder and give me some slightly more macho music. I returned to the kitchen to fill some orders, and at crossed my fingers that the next song would be what I needed- harsh. Angry. Male.

The next song was "I Want Love" by Elton John.

The problem continues to grow. I'd been noticing symptoms for weeks before the Fleetwood Mac event, seeing a trend in the way I've become, once again, easily offended and emotionally demanding. I attribute this situation to my relationship with Zack- learning from the past, the way that mine and Jeff's joking exchanges sometimes hurt me and the way that my tendency to be less communicative with significant others than with friends had an ill effect on Jeff and I, I've made special effort to always explain my feelings, to make every attempt to share things with Zack that hurt me with him even when it seemed difficult. Happily, I am getting his support and empathy, and we seemingly work out every problem we have. On the other hand, however, this seems to be putting me more in touch with my feminine side, and this is a bit of a dilemna: I either live with the new sensitive me, or I risk losing the success of Zack and I.

In a sense, it's him or me. This of course, drags me back, even further into the sexual war that wages in me- my feminine side, of course, wants to sacrifice everything for someone else, wants to be unselfish (in practice, anyway) and give up everything that was once important to me in the holy name of love. My masculine side, however, is experiencing a flaring up of my survival instincts. Threatened, it is scratching and clawing it's way out, fighting off it's enemies with reckless desperation. It is a fighter, and it does not care what it brings down with it. I am a woman in conflict.**

Casey: you women and your damn emotions.
FieryGwenivere: Amen
FieryGwenivere: I'm a very androgynous person- half and half, I like to think- but as of late, estrogen is definitely winning the battle of the sexes. And slowly but surely, I am losing the battle I have with my testosterone-controlled arm not to drive a fork into my own eye.
FieryGwenivere: I'm actually forcing myself to eat red meat- which I hate- just in the hopes that the manliness of it will sink into my bloodstream
Casey: yes. dr. machismo prescribes much more contact with men.
FieryGwenivere: ....I'm such a sexually-minded person. I read that six times before realizing it said "machismo" and not "masochism"
Casey: that's what the good doctor's talking about.
FieryGwenivere: anyways, yes, I'm in very strong agreement. I hang out with males more than females, the problem is that 90% of the time it's Zack, and it's hard to act like a guy when you're getting eaten out.
FieryGwenivere: all my platonic male friends went to college.
FieryGwenivere: wait...that seems to imply that I've successfully had a purely platonic relationship with, well, anyone.
Casey: no, sex object is also acceptable.
Casey: you and I, without being too presumptuous.
FieryGwenivere: But I miss hanging out with guys more than you can imagine. Just not overly possible, what with them spread out farther than my legs.

I include this piece of conversation, thoughtfully, for two reasons- the first obviously being that it applies to what I've been saying, and the second being that Casey fucking rocks. I can't get over how impressed by him I constantly find myself. Today, he expressed concern for something he knew would hurt me, and that, by itself, made me feel better about it- the idea that he'd even think about me without specific, direct context, the fact that he was concerned for me, the implication that he gives some amount of a shit about me instead of just casually engaging in conversation with me, as expected, and, I don't know...the fact that he knew it would bother me. He also made reference to the possibility of seeing me socially in the future, and this, of course, pleases me endlessly. Because, as stated earlier, Casey fucking rocks.

There may or may not be a clean segue back into the original purpose of this post, which was to extol the virtues of a song by another artist I had previously been rather stubborn about hating, Bob Dylan. It's almost the time that I decided earlier I wanted to go to bed by tonight, though, and as unlikely as it is that I'll stick by that deadline, I do not wish to waste anytime finding that clean segue, so I'll just jump to where I was going- it seems that the song "Like a rolling stone" has gotten more radio exposure than normally lately, and I've taken something of an interest to it. Miss Sutton attempted to open our minds to Bobby, as she called him, in poetry, and I let it roll of my back at the time, put off by, what else, his fucking voice. However, the first time I heard it on the radio, recently, I was rather impressed with my own knowledge of the song, thanks to the class, and I sang along with the chorus. Since then, every time I tire of CYY or the Q and my radio dial wonders over towards...fucking 93.1, whatever it is, the song has played, and my interest has increased. I quite enjoy his lyrical prowess, enough to endure the squeaking gate of his voice. However, this is not the song I mean to get to, and I am running out of time quickly- in a complete coincidence, I was listening to "I only want to be with you" by Hootie and the Blowfish tonight- only hours after I finally downloaded "Like a Rolling Stone"- and as I looked up the lyrics (to "I only want to be with you", just in case you aren't keeping track) that my father and I had discussed as being senseless in the context of the song, I found that they were actually quoted from another Bob Dylan song. (On a side note, while the Hootie song was intended as a tribute to Dylan, he sued them for using his lyrics without permission and walked away with a large settlement.) The song the lyrics were stolen from was called "Idiot Wind", so I proceeded to check to see if they made any more sense in the context of that song then the one by his predecessors. Turns out they were by only a small margin, but there was more- the song as a whole, especially the ending, totally blew me away. I read it three times, maybe four or five, I can't remember now, but it's deserving of at least one look from you: if you've gotten this far into my blathering bullshit, you can definitely spare a few minutes for this. It's the last verses and chorus that really blow me away...but discover it for yourself.

That seemingly takes care of everything I have to say...everything prosaic, anyway. I did also mean to post yesterday's quote of the day, so without further ado:

Linda: (discussing with Zack the way he is mildly threatened by my relationships with ex-boyfriends) I promise you, there's nothign to worry about. The past is past, I'm not going to do anything with any of them- I love you. Are they the only ones you're at all threatened by?
Zack: I think so, yes.
Linda: Wow, how shortsighted of you.

I don't know how many of you will understand why that's funny, perhaps you had to be there...but fuck it, I was, I get it, it's my page. Anyways....8 minutes past four, and I should be in bed. So, yes, let's be concise and all- on with it.



*Originally "giggle". Stupid estrogen. **Fuck! Shoulda said "person in conflict".

Elorza, who I can write about with the confidence that he will probably never come here, has never quoted me in his profile. This is seemingly a stupid thing to care about, I'll admit that, but...I don't know, it's always kinda hurt me. Even when he and I were close, he never did- never really quoted anyone back then, so I wasn't bothered by it. But it was when he and I started getting more distant that he started quoting other people- his current girlfriend, who was just his friend back then, most specifically- that I started to feel bad about it: he got to have real conversations with her, and all I had was the internet, but still she was the one that went up in the profile. It made me feel insecure- my other friends find me witty and smart and fun to talk to, and he...I began wondering if he'd ever thought that I was fun to talk to, if he'd ever know I was witty and smart. It's been a long time since we've grown apart, and our relationship ebbs a lot....but I always find myself wanting to say something worthwhile, wondering if it's good enough, wanting to know if I could ever be the type of person he'd put in his profile.

The thing about being in someone's profile is that it means they aren't ashamed of you. They think what you say is good enough to admit to thinking it's good. They think who you are is decent enough to admit to caring about you. They're not embarassed to publicly say "Hey, this person is my friend, whatever anyone else may think of her." The insecurity of needing that may have come from many places in my childhood- I was, after all, the reject kid at my elementary school. But the most obvious source that comes to mind is, surprise surprise, Jeremey. Back in middle school, Jeremey and I were extremely emotionally close- we'd talk on the phone every night and spill our pre-pubescent souls to each other. But middle school was highly about image, and I wasn't exactly a friend anyone would want to brag about. During school, Jeremey would treat me with absolute cruelty. He would rally he his friends to harass me during "fresh air", our eighth-grade version of recess. Admittedly, the cronies were more playful than malicious about it and I, having formed a great defensive wall around me as I grew up a reject, found the whole ordeal to be more satisfying than humiliating- it was attention, at any rate. But I always wondered why he was so ashamed of me- "And I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me- you couldn't stand to be near me when me when my face didn't seem to want to shine cuz it's a little bit dirty." I put up with it with Jeremey, and the issue became null-and-void when he left to live in Auburn. But the idea always stuck with me- I simply wasn't good enough for him to where on his sleeve.

Thus the need for recognition was born, and when the internet became part of my life, I began scanning other people's surveys for my name and checking other people's profiles for a shout-out or a quote. I've checked for references to me on my website. And, most relevantly to this particular post, I've tried to be worthwhile in my conversations to Elorza. Try as I do, though, it's difficult- he doesn't give me a hell of a lot to play off of. There was a time when I wrote beautiful words to him out of unfettered desire to want to write beautiful words to him- this continues, but now I find myself reading over them before I send them, hoping to catch the mistake that will them unable to penetrate him, force them to run over him like water over a roof...or, yeah, something. I'm constantly insecure about what I say to him, and without much support on his end--- I love him dearly, always will, but he isn't the type to go out of his way to make me feel secure. And he rarely reacts to any of the eloquence I try to languish on him. Not that it's his job...I expect too much.

The attention I've given to looking for myself to show up in his profile has expanded to everyone's, and some stupid part of me feels bad every time my name doesn't appear. But today, somebody helped with that. Casey quoted me in his profile- "FieryGwenivere: You ever wonder why the AOL running man is running? FieryGwenivere: I think he's running away from the motherfucker who cut off his hands and feet." So I asked him why. And he said "because it was funny."

I WANT TO SHOUT THAT FROM THE ROOFTOPS. THE BEST PERSON TO TALK TO ONLINE THAT I KNOW THINKS THAT I AM FUNNY. SO FUCK IT ALL! I AM!

He continued to tell me that he could relate, once I explained why I had asked in the first place. "I know the feeling that you've wasted eloquence on someone." he said...he said that after being prompted with far less explanation than I'm giving you, and he said it perfectly. Fuck, I love Casey. He's the second great thing that young writers gave me....halle-fucking-lujah.

My name is Linda, and I feel validated. And I feel witty, and smart, and fun to talk to. And I feel grateful. On with it.

Fucking Labrack is the coolest shit to talk to. He's the only one who can hold my interest online for any length of time. It is perhaps for this reason that I have made the offer to prostitute myself for the purposes of his site: that's right, put a link to the rsg (www.rsg.8k.com) in your aim profile or on your blog and I will show you my tits. Certain rules apply, but I'll do it man. Just 'cause he entertains me so.

FieryGwenivere: I want to be published. You think if I worked really hard on something, I could get it published somewehre?
CLABRACK: get what published?
CLABRACK: I assume you're not talking about your burger service skills.
FieryGwenivere: I don't know. Something. a story, preferably. I got a few poems that are good enough, but....I don't like the idea of getting a poem published before prose
CLABRACK: why?
FieryGwenivere: ....I don't know. Because where the hell does one publish poetry?
FieryGwenivere: haha, I totally just left myself open- I was talking to this guy who leads this whole group of people who give me shit for having absolutely no ass......
FieryGwenivere: Bigfoot582: I dunno...
FieryGwenivere: just a small link, at the bottom. I'll totally let you see my boobies.
Aaron: I dunno...
Aaron: what else ya got? ;-)
FieryGwenivere: I don't know? my ass?
FieryGwenivere: fuck you!
FieryGwenivere: before you even say anything!
FieryGwenivere: fuck you!
Aaron: LOL
FieryGwenivere: he's not going to let this one go quickly....
CLABRACK: hahaha.
CLABRACK: and it hits you four seconds later.
FieryGwenivere: you don't even get it, man. This is all they ever talk about- "Meh, Linda has no ass, meh!"
FieryGwenivere: and other such wit
CLABRACK: I think you publish poetry in shitty magazines.
FieryGwenivere: there ya go
FieryGwenivere: so, prose then. something
CLABRACK: and very shitty websites.
FieryGwenivere: wasn't that my point exactly?
CLABRACK: I used the rsg to write a couple of stories for me. for a class, of course.
FieryGwenivere: It is my fervent hope that some day in the not-to-distant future AIM conversations will be published and appreciated as the art that they are. And then, then I will be unstoppable.
CLABRACK: you would be a god.
FieryGwenivere: man, you keep rubbing my ego like that and you're going to hit the g-spot
CLABRACK: I don't know, your self-prostitution on the behalf of my site kinda hits mine.
CLABRACK: fuck you!
CLABRACK: before you even say anything!


Ah, so good. Word to the Case-master, homes. Word. (on with it...)

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

"Moons and Junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy-dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real-
I've looked at love that way.
But now it's just another show
You leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away
I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take and still, somehow
It's loves illusions I recall-
I really don't know love at all."
A lot of times I feel that way. And when I listen to this song, I can feel it seeping into my heart like moisture and making it heavier. But I shouldn't be feeling that way now. I have love. I have Zack.

Zack and I have decided that we do not intend to end our relationship when I go off to massage school, whenever in hell that may be. When I come back, I will stay here- in the area, that is, hopefully not the house- until he graduates. When we both move on, we plan to move on together.

So I'll be in Maine until at least June. That's bad. The good thing, and the scary thing, is that I'm somewhere I've never been before- in a relationship that doesn't have a pre-determined expiration date, as far as I'm concerned. In past relationships, I've made it as clear as possible that I'm not looking to spend the rest of my life with anyone, no matter how I feel about them. I'm not about to say that I want to spend the rest of my life with Zack, but I can say this- the idea of us ending scares me more than the idea of commitment. So we'll go with it, for now. Big step for me.
I've restarted the song, after interluding with "River", by the same artist (Joni Mitchell) and it reminds me that I am depressed. Because....I'm happy with Zack, obviously I am, but there are still al lot of demons from my past that need slaying....or, rather, fairy tales from my past that need growing out of. While I'm not sure I've ever really gotten over anyone, there's one person in particular that I don't think I'll ever get over completely, or maybe I'm just not willing to say goodbye to something that I, for once in my life, lost, as opposed to giving up by my own free will. Romantically, that is. When it comes to platonic love, I miss Jeremey lately more than I have in a few months- and when you take into account that there hasn't been a day in the past year that I haven't thought about him, that's pretty bad. More rational friends of mine seem to think that the more I prostrate myself to him, the lower I get and the more desperate I become, the more satisfied he's gonna be. I wish I could agree with my guiding voice of reason in all of this- with all the guiding voices of reason- but I just can't force myself to think of my oldest friend as being that cruel. I can't for myself to think of him as anything but my oldest friend. A while ago, I was at a point where I could remember him fondly and sort of accept that things will never be the same again, and I wish I was still there: the last thing I want to do is forget our conversations, our private jokes, going to the library to research how to hypnotize people so that we could get humiliating revenge against a common foe, trying to get to the different islands of myst together, searching for Mrs. Deraspe's missing bee stamps, discussing fucked-up Matchbox Twenty lyrics, writing the Happy Squirrel poem together, both of us being so stubborn that we spent an hour on the phone in silence during a fight rather than just hanging up.....7 years worth of memories I don't want to give up. But I could smile at them before, now I....I still can. I'm just crying while I'm smiling.

I wish I could still afford to be on the other end of a silent phone call. I wish I could be stubborn and say he's wrong. But the fact of the matter is I don't care who is...I'd blame myself, I'd blame anyone, I'd do pretty much anything. As if this is news to you- I want my friend back.


On the lighter side, I guess, is that old friendships seem to be coming alive in leaps and bounds. Andrew and I are still doing alright, testing how long we can go without fighting and hating each other bitterly. Whichever one of us had the longer stick up our ass before, it's been removed.
Andrew: Tired, aren't you?
Linda: badly
Andrew: Want me to come massage your feet for you?
Andrew: hehe, gotcha.
Andrew: *schwish*
Linda: yes, schwish.
Linda: I would never let anyone massage my feet
Andrew: I know, I wouldn't forget something like that.
Linda: wasn't sure I'd told you
Andrew: The only way you ever even let me touch your feet was if I filled you with horse-tranquilizers!
Linda: is that what you're calling it now?
Andrew: "The Injector" is what I call it, thank you, but pretty much, yeah.
Linda: :-)
Linda: you're great
Andrew: *bows*
Andrew: *trips while bowing*
Linda: *kicks you while you're down*
Andrew: *pleads for mercy*
Linda: *Walks away with a more attractive guy*
Andrew: *watches as she walks away with her imaginary friend*
Linda: Heh, it's like an intrepretive dance of our relationship. :-D
Andrew: Exactly!
Linda: If we want to call Jeff that, that is.
Andrew: What, he's not even good enough to be classified as 'imaginary?'

(On the off chance that Jeff reads this, that ain't what I was going for at all, and told him so in the next message, I just though what he said was amusing.)

Anyway, so....I'm sorta strung between good and bad right now. As ever, I guess. But hey, I got a play to right...not that I mentioned that. Too preliminary to go announcing it so publicly though- when it's done, you'll be the first to know. Just trust me.

On with it.

HOLY QUOTE OF THE DAY, BATMAN!!!!

Hehe, I can't believe how much quality conversation I must have missed out on in months and months of not talking to Andrew. Quote of the day tonight- talking about Zack's potentially shooting up the school. (No Mr. Nunnery, it's NOT really going to happen, *wink, wink*)

ANDREW: Most likely he would bring something crappy to kill everybody with , like a 38 special, and the gun would expliode in his hand, taking off his thumb and index finger. *Silence* Poetic justice Linda, poetic justice.
LINDA: How is that poetic justice?
ANDREW: It's funny when people's fingers get blown off.

I love that kid.

But the shoote- uh, Zack, is here, so I'm out. Wow, I'm not even slightly amusing anymore. Forgive me.

On with it.

FieryGwenivere: I love starting strange, random chain reactions
Nick: Panda.
FieryGwenivere: you totally get me.
Nick: *nods*

When was the last time I mentioned I LOVE NICK?

'Cause I do.

On with it.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
~Robert Frost


Thinking of you, babe. On with it.

Jeff, whom I love more than I can say, and this is not just something I say because of the following, bestowed upon me yesterday two gifts, one a bookmark with a Jack Vettriano painting- "Dance me till the end of Time", I think it's called- on it and the other "So Much Shouting, So Much Laughter", a new Ani two-CD set. He got both for free (the CDs were a sent to St. Joe's radio station as a promotion), but even so, I am deeply, deeply appreciative. Mostly because of the evidence they present that he knows me, perhaps better than I worried he did, being that he knew I'd like...love them.

At work, I don't really have a long time to go into the fact that Jeff is amazing, or that my paranoia- or perhaps rational fear- that people do not know me as well as I would hope they do- is something that defines me perhaps more than anyone knows, but one song has struck me enough that I can't rid myself of my desire to write an entry about it. "Gratitude". Not actually expecting all of you- all two of you, more likely than not- to visit that site and read the entirety of the song, I will quote enough of it to give you an idea of it's essence:

"...thank you for half of your bed
we can sleep here like brother and sister,
you said

but you changed the rules
in an hour or two
and i don't know what you
and your sisters do
but please don't
please stop
this is not my obligation
what does my body have to do
with my gratitude?"

I need a motto like that- 'this is not my obligation'. I need that as my tagline. I need to practice saying that so I can when I need to. I need to feel the ability to say it when it's turning through my head like so many squeaking hamster wheels that shriek on and on to no avail. I need to work on getting better similes.

The last time I really felt as though I couldn't distance myself from a sexually uncomfortable situation despite my every desperate desire to was the night before I left for New York with Heather- we stayed at Torrie's that night, and her creepy roommate took an interest me in the midst of the bachanalia. While I managed to get away before I did anyhting that would constitute cheating- with him, anyway- he made quite the effort to seduce me by rubbing various parts of my body- leg, neck, back, GET THE FUCK OFF ME- and all I really wanted was to get away and to never, ever see him again, but I couldn't so much as turn to the guy and say "Hey, I'm not interested." I felt bad for having "started it", I guess- while jammed onto a couch with him and out four other people, I reclined and stretched my legs over his lap. Will I never learn?

Evidence of my feelings of sexual obligation more recently came tonight in the form of tears that I shed at a most inoppurtune time- at the time, I said I didn't know why I was crying, and I don't take this back now: I really don't understand it. But if I wanted to guess, and I'm not exactly sure that I do, or that this is the best place to make my first guesses public, I would say that it was perhaps vaguely related to the idea that, well, that the time I'm taking with certain things might be outweighing the patience previously involved. I am reluctant to talk about this here mostly because it seems to sound more like an accusation than what it truly is: my admittance of the paranoia that is plagueing me constantly when it comes to relationships, sex, anything like that.

I have issues. I need to deal with them. And I need a tagline.

THIS IS NOT MY OBLIGATION.

But cleaning the floor sorta is...so I'm off. On with it.

The earlier one does the friday five, the higher up they can get on a list of poeple who does it, and the better advertising it is for their site! So I now take brutal advantage of the fact that I am up this early on a september morn (stay for just a while! stay and let me look at you!) and do this now, so that maybe dozens of strangers will come to my site today and be captivated by...all of my...uhm....well, they'll come anyway.

1. Would you say that you're good at keeping in touch with people?
You know, this is definitely an answer that applies to me really strongly one way or another, but I'm really not sure which. I guess not- when I think back on it, I tend to keep a few people in the "active" part of my brain at one time- I do everything I can for them, but I tend to forget about people in the back. I think what I'm mistaking for my alleged ability to keep in touch with people is the obscene amount of effort I put into making people who might not want to keep in touch with me want to...or trying, anyway. But that's something different altogether I guess. So, uh, no?

2. Which communication method do you usually prefer/use: e-mail, telephone, snail mail, blog comments, or meeting in person? Why?
I have a high regard for all of those methods- My relationships with Jeff and Mitch developed through e-mail, so I'm grateful for that, as well as for the four-hour long phone conversations I used to have with Kris and Jeremey in the pre-internet days, and while I've never had a pen pal, I ADORE getting real mail, so the idea of one thrills me. I met Jacquie through her blog, and she's my douche-sizzlin' sistah, but, over all, nothing beats meeting in person. Being near someone, being able to touch them, smell them, hear their voice, see their mannerisms...I met Elorza online, I talked to him on the phone after a while, he's read my blog (though never commented) and I've sent him some things, but I just saw him in person for the second time ever...let me tell you, that's a rush. He's wonderful. And being near him, as well as being near to everyone I love, is amazing. (GAH! Sooo clichéd-sounding! Please, hit me!) The method I use the most often, however, would have to be AIM...which is terribly unfortunate.

3. Do you have an instant messenger program? How many? Why/why not? How often do you use it?
Ah, and now we address it. I have AIM, I used to have ICQ and Yahoo and MSN instant messnegers as well, but when you come right down to it, everyone has aim, and if they don't, they should. I have it because it makes it easy and cheap to keep in touch with everyone who's far away- entirely too many people like that- and even people who are close, which is sort of abuse of the privelige. I also tend to like how it's the only medium in the world where you can have multiple, totally exclusive conversations at one time. Technology! Wowee! How often? I'll have to go with "nauseatingly". Less now then I used to, because the computer is currently set up in my parents room, and they're asleep at night, which used to be my key instant messaging hours, but every chance I get, so long as I'm not entertaining any guests (and even if I am, sometimes...). Soon, the computer will be moved to my room and I'll have a 24 hour connection, then you can see how sick my addiction really is...voyeur!

4. Do most of your close friends live nearby or far away?
Far the fuck away. While it was pretty even up until a month ago- I had a big group of friends in auburn, which was just too far to be close, a bunch in my home town and some spattered throughout the country in college- now they're ALL GONE. All of them went off to college, which is why now it's the Linda and Zack show! Starring Linda and Zack! Catch all the excitement and adventure of Linda and Zack in this week's episode! But, hey, there's a bright side to all of this- this severely cuts down on the chances that I'll cheat on him...uh, as long as you keep drunk strippers away from me.

5. Are you an "out of sight, out of mind" person, or do you believe that "distance makes the heart grow fonder"?
Both. I can definitely make somebody out of my sight stay out of my mind, but if I choose to think about them- and that's definitely the choice that should be made for the most part- distance can make one realize how much they're missing out on. That said, I love you Jenn, Nick, Chad, Emily, Kris, Mark, Jeff, Serena, and, uhm....etc.! If I missed you, it's not because I don't love you, it's just because I don't love you enough. :-P


Hmmm.....the mundanity of those questions made each answer special and unique...oh, wait, no. Exact opposite effect. Sorry about that, my bad.

Happy reading, strangers! While you're here, other shit I've written is MUCH more interesting.*


*Ignore anything in caps...and add a "sorta....not really...if you're easily amused" to the end of that.

ON WITH IT!

On yet another Burger King night shift, I embrace the duties of cook for the first time by playing MASH online in my abundance of free time. Seemingly every time I play this game, there are two answers that consistently come out the same- I am having no kids, and- move over Zack!- I'm going to marry Chad.

You will live in Mansion.
You will drive a Red VW van.
You will marry Chad and have 0 kids.
You will be a Playwright in Ozarks.

Not a bad life, all in all. I don't know how a Playwright is going to make a living in the Ozarks, but I guess we don't have to stay there all the time. It ALMOST got narrowed down to living in a Mansion in Paris and owning a VW Van, that would have been a clash of genres.

I haven't talked to Chad all that much since certain incidents, but, between you, me, and the rest of the world, I'm don't think I'd be entirely over him if I saw him again. Given the kind of tryst we had, I'm not sure I'll ever be completely over him- don't get me wrong, I love Zack, and, given the chance, I wouldn't go bounding off, eager to choose Chad over the comfort and stability of relationship I was already in....you know, again. But as sad as it is to see everyone leave, it's probably a really good thing for me that he's far away.

The rather humbling situation with Chad was what first got me into this rather unfortunate mindset that I am now- if something is hurtful, I just don't think too much about it. It started when he told me about Kara and I, not knowing how I was supposed to deal with being as- well, let's say it- in love with him as I was and rejected, especially while in a situation to hurt someone I loved as much as Jeff, and dealing with Kody's death at the same time, I put both of these things out of my mind, more for the sake of sanity than anyhting, I guess. I never really went back and faced my feelings, however, and the relative numbness kept going when Jeff and I broke up- it was sad, extremely sad, but I wrote about it here and put it as much behind me as I could, mostly to salvage the upcoming relationship with Zack, I guess. When Jenn left, same thing- I wasn't numb at all leading up to that one, I was teary and desperate and very, very scared, but since it has become a reality, I try not to think about it, and I've largely suceeded.

This is why things are left unresolved- I've kept them that way. I seem to remember one other issue with which I felt I hadn't really faced my emotions, but perhaps I've put it out of my mind so much, it's now completely gone. I guess I don't know. I'm afraid, though, that if I don't take time to reckon with these things soon, I might end up some jaded version of my former self, I guess, or maybe just lose my ability to face things as emotionally brazenly as I used to...if "brazen" was the word I was looking for then.

As a reader, perhaps, you might even be able to tell the difference, compairing the way I write now as compaired to before- that is, if you cared that much. Reading through my archives, and even just these past few entries, I seem more...intelligent about things now, and I odn't mean that in a nessecarily good way. There was a great deal of rawness and passion in my older stuff, a genuine, teenaged quality that just made me all that much more compelling....to me, I guess. Maybe that's what it was- I was a teenager then. Maybe it was exactly when I hit eighteen and became an official adult- albeit, a teenaged adult- that I started handling things as adults do. Maybe I am growing into maturity, feeling my way into rationality and comprehension. Maybe, from now on, I will be an altogether logical, reasonable adult!

Eeeeewwwwwwwwwww........ Let's hope THAT'S not it! I gotta get in touch with my inner teenager, before this whole voting/cigarette-buying/porn-renting power trip gets the best of me.

Look at me! I couldn't be more teenaged! I'm working at BURGER KING, haven for uneducated high school slackers! Oooh, and now I have to go make a croissan'wich. Viva la youth!

On with it.

Enduring the night shift at Burger King, I take advantage of the slack nature of my young shift supervisor, who's physical beauty has become something of a bonus for me- they probably wouldn't have to pay me at all to be here. My coworkers, all of whom know about my completely superficial attraction to him, however, overestimate this: They think my agenda is to seduce him, when really, I just like to appreciate art when I see it. As far as my sexual life goes, the cat's out of the bag to everyone who cares- albeit, not many- that Zack and I are now officially Zack and I. How long this has been going on is unclear, however, I can tell you with certainty that we're here, we're queer, get used to it....or, something like that. I never know what I'm saying at all, least of all when it's 1:20 am, and I'm getting paid seven measely dollars an hour to watch the progression of the night and serve burgers.

Except that right now, as we all know, I'm doing neither of those things. I'm satiating the long forgotten needs of my fans. My many, many fans- all of which have five speeds, and oscillation capabilities! Yipee!

As last you heard on "...you must be very bored...", the continuing saga of teenage mundanity (*promptly looks up validity of word...woo!*), I was doing something slightly less mundaniffic than usual- I was headed off to New York. Or, a few days away from being headed off to New York- between my trip and my last entry were several struggles involving the cancelling of my hotel accomidations, as done by my extremely caucasian parents, who seemed to think their extremely caucasian daughter should not be spending the night in a one-star hotel in an entirely uncaucasian area of town. This lead to the monetary donation of fifty dollars a night on their part so that I could stay some place with a little more class, and a little less ethniticity--- Times Square. My parents line of thought seemed to be that Times Square was a business district, or something: I assume they associated it with the New York Times, and figured that since they'd never heard of a HARLEM newspaper, I must be better off where people can, well, read. I must point out, this is THEIR (hypothetical) opinion, not my own, as I am far less ignorant, I like to think, and just a little more wordly- I, personally, doubt the ability of the average person in Times Square to read, as well. Our hotel, which was photographed with a deceptive air of surrounding class on the internet add, was sandwiched between a parking garage and a building with a strip club on the top and a porno store on the bottom. Directly across the street, however, was the Gershwinn Theater, where the Broadway shows "Metamorphosis" and "Oklahoma" were performed. This goes to show you- there is seemingly no way to gauge the class factor of a block in New York. Maybe the locals have it figured it out, but to me, it appeared some complex enigma.

While I don't have the energy to relate my experience in the Big Apple with satisfactory detail- and I probably shouldn't, being that I AM being paid a massive seven dollars an hour- I'll go over some of the highlights: Some confusion involving my lack of credit card lead the hotel to rob me of almost two hundred dollars on deposit as well as the two hundred for the room, which left me without the full 400 I had brought with me. This wouldn't have been much of a problem, however, if it had not been for the massive malfunction of my ATM card, which randomly decided to assign to me a daily limit of funds that I was allowed to withdraw, as well as completely going INSANE on the second day. This was worked out midway through th etrip, and thanks to my father faxing his permission to charge the room to his mastercard, I was able to survive without selling my body to stock brokers...too much. Heather and I saw "Rent", the musical from which quotes have graced this website for months and months, leading up to the change of format that now affects us- to put it simply, it was transcendent. Details escape me, especially at this time of night, but you can request a more detailed account in person or on the phone- that is, if any of you were around to see me or call anymore. We spent the following evening with Elorza, my second-ever real-life encounter with him. Heather found him to be a complete asshole, but I was once again taken aback by his confidence, humor, and charisma, not to mention that he, too, is undeniably an masterpiece to be appreciated. The most notable experience of our third and final morning there would be breakfast at the wonderful "Ellen's Stardust Cafe", where the waitstaff sang for us. During our layover in Boston, I was able to spend a much-needed hour with Jenn, without whom my life is becoming rather eerily like bad freshmen poetry.

And then home, home again, where I was able to return, the next day, to the eager arms of my Zack, with whom I had a great deal to talk about- the night before leaving for New York, Heather and I stayed with Torrie and a small party conspired, involving Jill and Mike and several of Torrie's roommates. There was much booze to be had, and, while I ingested only a few sips myself, the drunken atmosphere made for a bit of a haze in my mind, and quite the interesting- if regrettably inappropriate- situation conspired. Having resolved everything I need to with uninvolved parties, I now wonder whether or not I will forgive myself for my own irresponsibility, and if others involved have any recollection at all. Suffice to say, other people there were very drunk.

I've been overnights for the past three days, the first of which was spent entertained by conversation with two of my male coworkers, the second sustained by Zack's presence for the full nine hours of the shift, and tonight, Jeff stayed a while, having dropped my off after us hanging out for the first time in...far too long. He's been keeping closer track than I have, suffice to say that an inapprorpriate period of time has passed. And I do love him, so much- it seems that the only problem, on my part at any rate, with our friendship continuing unaffected will be fighting the instinct I have to kiss him every now and again, but with a slight amount of effort, I won't screw that up- that would be no good for me, no good for him, and no good for Zack. Zack, who's loving companionship has become a distraction from all the loss I've had recently, perhaps too much for my own good.

Another time, another place for that explanation however. I must get back to my dilligent post, doing nothing and getting paid just about the same. On with it!

My mother, thinking, because I had told her, that my hotel might be in Brooklyn, came in to my room today to warn me of something, and thus a quote of the day was born!

Mom: You know, there are parts of Brooklyn that are just...black.
Linda: It's not in Brooklyn.
Mom: Where is it?
Linda: Harlem.

The look on her racist little face was precious!

No, I take that back- I don't think my mom is actually a rascist, it's just getting close enoguh to the trip where she's becoming...paranoid with concern. But it's amusing, just the same!

On with it.

Two visiters, as well as the fact that Mike wasn't a manager, but a rather burnt-out BK cook, made last night not only bearable, but one of the most enjoyable nights of work I've ever experienced.

First to drop by was Mark, who brought me a blueberry muffin and chocolate milk from Tim Horton's. It's little considerations like that that I'm really going to miss about him when he leaves for Farmington tomorrow- the end of the summer is coming on strong.

Mark was there for about an hour and left somewhere around midnight, I would guess. Having got there at nine, I had pretty much nothing from my long list of night shift duties done by the time he left- he and I had taken a look at the list and decided I could easily accomplish all of it in two, maybe two-and-a-half hours. I don't know how much truer this might have been were I not distracted, an hour later, by Zack's arrival. Suffice to say, however, that with Zack there, it definitely wasn't true. Spending maybe the first forty-five minutes that Zack was there with my attention divided equally between him and those petty annoyances known as customers, I started working on the list at 2:15, and at 7:15, when he drove me home, it wasn't completed.

It's enough of an accomplishment to me, though, to know that I was paid for....certain moments of distraction. Or something like this.

I need to get some shit talked about to someone who deserves to know, because I'd really rather not have to keep going along being so damn ambiguous. Not that everyone hasn't figured out the little mystery already. But I think I have an e-mail to write.

On with it.

FieryGwenivere: Zack's fine
Mitch: thats good
Mitch: he's in my study hall
FieryGwenivere: is he then? nice
FieryGwenivere: when's that?
Mitch: 7 th period
FieryGwenivere: which moniter?
Mitch: Mrs B
FieryGwenivere: nice. I'll have to come visit you both sometime
Mitch: excellent. while you're at it, you can vsit becky too
Mitch: she sits right next to me
Mitch: did that drop the idea?
FieryGwenivere: Why would it? I like Becky
Mitch: thats good
FieryGwenivere: she made me nervous at first, but all girlfriends do that. And as far as they go, she's one of the cooler ones I've met
Mitch: thats good to know
FieryGwenivere: you must keep in mind, I'm not out to attempt to seduce you or whatever simply because I happen to find you attractive. I happen to find a lot of people attractive
Mitch: no matter what, you're comming to my weding and you're gonna dance with me


I find that awesome. Mitch is so great. He and I had a conversation a while back during which he asked if I was attracted to him and I told him, essentially, yes, but he's too good of a friend for me to ever hit on- as more than friends, we would have no chance, no future, no anything. He seems to have taken the conversation as indication that he needs to point out, every chance he gets, that he has a girlfriend, but I'm not about to hit on Mitch. The fact that he would go so far to be tactful, though, is adorable, as is just the idea of dancing at him with his wedding....even just BEING at his wedding. I love that he values me so much.

And on an even better note, my long, albeit undocumented, search for someone to accompany me to New York has seemingly come to an end- Heather, a friend of mine that, as of late, I have had somewhat unsatisfactory amounts of contact with, will be my travelling partner. Now all I have to do is make the reservations for the hotel and by bus tickets, as well as tickets to "Rent". The fact that I'm going to see "Rent" has not just a few people very jealous of me. Originally, the Broadway tickets were intended just to bribe Jenn to come accompany me so that I would be able to be there for the reason I really want to be there- the first anniversary of september 11th. Jenn, however, declined the idea of going to that and said we should save our travels for another time, so I then invited Emily, who entertained the idea for a short time but ultimately said no. Heather, as of yet, doesn't know of my plans to devote at least a few hours to whatever ceremony the city will be holding, but since I am paying for 75, if not 80 or 90 percent of the trip, I doubt she'll be uncooperative.

Speaking of paying for things, I must go work towards funding this trip. It's my first overnight shift at Burger King, and I look forward to ten straight hours alone with some manager from another store named "Mike". I also look forward to using up the batteries on my cd player.

So good to be detachted from the world around you...and payed for it! On with it.

The biggest, best laugh of the week is today's quote of the day, coming directly to us from The Pit, as supplied by Mal-

"Wed Aug 28 21:04:26 GMT 2002
(from:) Mal
(to:) Suede

How do you possibly put up with this guy?

Gag him with a sock and pretend he's a mute?

Tell him to 'shut up and lick' as soon as he walks through the door?

Pretend he's speaking in figurative language and invent intelligent, symbolic meanings for winners like 'Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...I love big bold letters' ??

Come now, enquiring minds want to know."

He is referring, as none of you will know, to Zack, who's pit personality- Phillis- is not exactly everyone's favorite guy, as he basically stops in once in a while to post random bullshit punctuated entirely with ellipses (...) and making no sense to the outside world whatsoever. Mal, who has so far taken offense to every romantic interest of mine who wanders into the pit- including "Pedia" or "Einsames" (Jeff), with whom he fought for days over...well, it started off as Metallica, then became several different issues entirely, and "Tactless Wonder" (Chad), who never really did anything to anybody, but whom I seem to remember Mal having at least one run in with- is the number one anti-phillis of the pit. Seemingly, Mal just thinks I can do better than these people.

But, Mal baby, you're married. Everything better's already taken, remember?

(For the sake of my readers, I must inform that that is hardly a serious comment- Mal and I have a symbiotic relationship which involves mutual ego-stroking and long-winded writing talks, as well as the occasional arrogant piss-duel. But I love my demon, just the same.)

So, yes, as they say on the pit. "*cack* @ Mal".

And as they say here, "on with it."

As if to prove to the rest of the world that they are wrong, we CAN do it, last night with Jeff was great. From Tin Tin, our place, where we shoved strawberry jello from the buffet straight into my jacket pockets in sentiment to the top of the parking garage where we ended up throwing it to the streets below, from the car ride spent screaming "INDIANA ROCKS" at the top of our lungs my bathroom, serenading my pajama-clad sister with a bad rendition of Etheridge's "The Only One", the chemistry between us didn't falter once. Granted, it was difficult- after nine months, it's hard to remember, all of a sudden that no, you aren't allowed to kiss someone, and yeah, maybe you should pull away from that embrace before it becomes questionable. But between our mutual efforts and joking reminders that things we used to do without thought are now "inappropriate", we did good. And it was great.

It's been a long time since I've been able to hang out with him without feeling the strain of thoughts like "What if I'm about to hurt this magnificient human being? What if I really screw up?", and finally being relieved of that, knowing that I've finally done the right, if extremely painful, thing...that makes things between he and I easier and better and more enjoyable for me. I keep having to remind myself that he's not in the same place as I am- that he didn't have any great relief to be found in the end of our relationship, but I think the difference in it for me is positive, in it's own way, for both of us. I guess I really don't know if he'd disagree, but aside from a few delicate moments, last night felt better- more relaxed, more fun- than things have between us for a while. None of my zoning out to wonder about the validity of us, the deservingness of me, or how awful the end might finally be. Just he and I, the way we always were, the way- I hope- we always will be.

Last night reminded me very, very clearly of why I fell so totally in love with him, and why it's worth it to make sure that that doesn't happen again. He's one of the best friends I've ever had, or could ever hope for.

Oh, and INDIANA ROCKS!!!!! On with it.

Being that it's 9:44, and I have to start getting ready for work at 10, I won't work to make this a long, beautiful post that will impress, well, Mal. (Hi, Mal! You still reading?) But I wanted to point out a couple of things- A: work and social life have been ass-raping me to the point where I've barely been online, and this makes me feel bad because I haven't had the chance to reply to the e-mails of several people that I've really wanted to, so hang in there, I'll get back to you I swear. And, uh, B: Last night was the shit. Ben and Nick and- here's a shocker- Zack were over, and we had entirely too much fun hanging out in my room messing around with one of my...possesions. There was a beautiful quote of the day that I can't post, lest I should offend someone who wasn't even briefly related, and so I shall use the stand in quote of the day, though without context-
"If this thing were stiffer, I could duel you!"
~Nick

With too much of the delicious detail of last night's seemingly drunken get together in my boudoir, I would give away a magnificiently evil plan that we conspired last night...can one "conspire" a plan, or do they conspire to come up with a plan? I'll never fucking know. Either way....when it's all done with, I will give all the detail I possibly can. It's gonna rock.

On with it.

Nick was over last night. Nice change of pace- not that I don't appreciate the twenty-four hour Zack network, but I'm the type of person who needs variety...or something.

He and I went for a walk, then rented some playstation games at Movieland, came home and played them for a while, went out to eat, came back, more playstation, then music and conversation and such for a while and he left. Somewhat mundane, but I get along better with him than with a lot of people. Doesn't take a whole hell of a lot of action to keep me interested when I'm with my auburn boys. I hope I get to see more of him and the other two before college starts for them.

Kris moved to Kittery about a week ago. He and I never saw each other in person all that often, but that kinda sucked. I can't really miss him all that much, since I never saw him often in the first place, but the idea that he's so far away is depressing.
Jeremiah Freed's "Again" is a song I've become recently hooked on. I think I was at work once and it came on, and- having seen them in person, and talked to them in person, and just had a fairly great hands-on Jeremiah Freed experience in general, I was fairly happy about...that, I don't know where my sentence went...point being, I downloaded and it's great.

"And please if you know
Don't tell me
And please if you know
Don't tell me
'Cause I know that it's the same
When they all come back again
You'd think I'd know by now
And I know it's in the plan
When my heart is in my hands
Again."

Anyway, fuck this post, this is so bad and pointless. I'm gonna work on Triangle Sleep's website, being that I'm their new webmaster- whether or not all of them are mutually aware of that.

On with it.

What I was going to write got interrupted by my inability to find a word. If you know what word I'm looking for, e-mail me.

FieryGwenivere: I need help finding a word
FieryGwenivere: someone was talking about how america is uncultured, and she said- "and the simpsons does not count as culture". I'm writing the sentence "In the defense of the simpsons as a _______ aspect of culture, I have found this site that lists many quotes as well as explaining their historical references and subtle political implications..."
Kris: Integral? Vital?
FieryGwenivere: no, I want something that means "worthy of merit" or something like that
Kris: Vagina?
FieryGwenivere: Goddamn it.
Anyways, I wa s writing this to show you the site, because it rocks. Go, learn.

On with it.

In the past, I've written odes of my great, important romantic relationships at their end, to memoralize them forever as well as to work through any feelings I have of regret or self-doubt...sadness, really. I generally do it before I go to sleep that night, because, generally, I can't sleep otherwise.

Last night, after Jeff went home, having kissed me for the last time, I didn't. I, instead, took a tylenol PM, assured myself I did the right thing and thought of probably something else, maybe nothing at all, until unconsciousness shut the eyes of the dead night for me.

There's a lot to say about Jeff and I in the past. I used to think about how they should make a movie of us- something I muse about with many friends, but from the screwy, comedic way we met, into the jokes of us becoming friends, the passion of when we fell in love and finally the tear-filled good-bye last night on my porch, I think he and I lend itself to a story that should be told the best. Because it's important- when you think of the stereotypical movie, people meet, fall in love, overcome their obsticles, and stay in love for the rest of their lives...or for the rest of the movie. And we all love to hear about that- true love. But true love only happens once in a lifetime, and there's a type of love that happens before hand, maybe over and over again. And it's just as important. And it's just as wonderful. And it's a story that nobody's telling.

It's the story of two people who meet in the middle of their lives, when they both have a long way to go before any sort of conclusion can be made, and they grow together, and they unload a lot of baggage with each other, and they complement each other incredibly through their support and their mutual appreciation, and above all, their love. So they make the choice to commit to each other, and they continue being good together, throughout their trials and tribulations. But they haven't learned everything there is to learn in life yet- about love, about how to make things work forever. They haven't quite got the pattern down. So they work to improve themselves, for themselves, for each other, and they go along way....but they can't go the whole way. And after a while, it becomes clear that there's something else to learn- how to let go. And they have to walk away from each other, still loving each other, still wanting to be perfect and finished, but knowing that perfection is an illusion, and the finish is a long way off.

And they embrace, on a porch maybe, in the middle of the night maybe, and they cry a lot. And they do not want to let go, feel that they can not.

I've always had trouble in life realizing what I need to do, I always thought that was the hardest part. Last night, the follow-through sort of made all the rest seem like a child's game.

I needed to get out of my relationship with Jeff for one simple reason- I love him. I can't lose him entirely. And I could feel my control letting go of me, and I know myself, and I know my past, and I HATE IT so much...but I know who I am. And I didn't want to do the horrible things to him that I'd done before. He's too good to feel the way I've made other people feel, and I'm too good to feel that guilt again.

I'm always going to love him. I just have to learn to do it in a different way.

On with it.

It's been an emotional day.

I called two people that I haven't in a long time. One of which was Chad.

I called Chad from a cell phone in the field across from Emily's house. That's about as far as I could make it before collapsing in tears from the first call I made- to someone I shouldn't have called- from the payphone at Kitty Korner.

I'd been outside- in a post bike-riding state of exhaustion- waiting for Zack to perhaps walk by on the chance he had to work tonight, and listening to Tabitha's Secret and thinking about an e-mail I received tonight with only one word of text- wenesday. And then when I had my fill of thinking that, I began thinking of the same thing I always think, about the only person I think about every single day of my life, and in the emotional state I was in, I made the bad choice to get up and walk to kitty korner at 8:45 and to dial that number and wait for him to pick up the phone, and I asked for him, and it was him, and I just told him I was sorry for calling but....but can't you please forgive me?

And he hung up.

And I wandered back to my field and sat there for a moment, dumbfounded, and thought I'd call Ben. I never remember Ben's number though. Chad's comes naturally to me. When his dad answered, even his voice was somewhat soothing, but Chad's when he picked up had the cathardic affect it always does, and I started to cry to him...crying like I had before, when I was standing next to him in the kitchen, begging not to let this intense fucking love I had for him be reduced to some damn one-night stand, cause, damn, did I love him, and how fucking much I wanted the chance to try, to try and not make the same mistakes I had. I wanted a chance to make it all work out, and I didn't get it, but that would have been okay- then he moved on and I fucking died.

But I lived. And he and I promised that we wouldn't let our friendship get screwed. But we did. And so tonight's the first time I've heard his voice since moxie days, I think, except maybe once when I called him to get Ben's number- because I can never remember Ben's number, Chad's comes naturally to me. And I was on the phone with him and I just cried and said all the things that I wish I could tell another person- how fucking much I love you, how fucking much I think about you, how horrible it is that you won't even take it into consideration, you bastard, I love you! You fucking bastard- and I told him all that. And he told me the truth: that if there's a way for me to forget him, I should. And he plowed through my bullshit of "but I can't, I can't", except I'm not ever sure that it's bullshit, not with him, not with the way he does this to me. And eventually we got to talk about other things, and he changed my state of mind and lifted me up- slightly, maybe, because how happy can I be on the phone with him, soaking in the knowledge of the fact that he can always make me happy- and I was distracted- and waiting for Zack to come by, because Zack is really what saved me and my fucking ego from Chad, from Kara, but when we got off the phone, god, did I want to tell him that I loved him. Because I do. And whether or not it could ever be the same, I wonder if he still loves me. Just a friend, or not even.

He told me, when he had to go, that I could always come to him, and he did it in that voice that makes me love him the way I do, because damn I do, and that made me smile and that made me hurt, but everything hurts.

Zack never walked by, so I came home and got online and waited for him, and wrote bad poetry meant for the guy who hung up on me- how dare you just hang up on me- in my away message, except that it wasn't bad poetry at all. I only tend to say it was to make up for the fact that it might have been...anyway, Zach's here now, so I guess life must go on...with it.

At this point, I am only posting for the sake of letting y'all know that I do, in fact, still intend to post here and I am, in fact, not dead.

Damn....I wish I had thought more before trying to start a post. This was really very anticlimatic.

Went for a bike ride today. Turns out, I suck really badly at going uphill. I think I suck really badly at most anything physical. *Thinks about that* At anything athletic....

*Thinks about that* At anything athletic that doesn't involve harnesses or handle bars hanging from the ceiling.


Yeah, I think that might work.

On with it.

Slowly, I will mold this to the whims of my template-ness. For now, just that upper graphic pretty much exemplifies how I feel about fixing and tweaking and programming this damn thing. Still, I thought I'd take a minute to make this appear like something and throw a bone to those of you who still read this. (Hi Emily!!!!)

For those of you out there in TV land who don't know what's been going on with me: Working a lot lately. Burger fucKing. God, I love it.

"Let's just say it moved me. INTO A BIGGER HOUSE."

That's a simpsons reference and even I don't know if it makes since in the context I was trying to make it make sense with. However, I do know that I'm listening to Runaway Train, a song that reminds me of Jeremey and that I miss making senseless Simpsons quotes at possibly innappropriate times and having them just work. Big fucking surprise, right?

Person One: Hey, Linda's site is finally back!
Person Two: It was gone?
Person One: Yeah! But it's back now, with lot's of changes.
Person Two: What's she writing about?
Person One: She misses Jeremey.
Person Two: Oh yeah, LOTS of changes. I'm gonna go jerk off.


The dangerous thing to assume in that scenario: That two people, without the inclusion of me, would ever bother having a conversation about my site. Or that there are still two people on earth that remember it exist.

I recently stuck a quote from Runaway Train in an e-mail to Zack-- Zack, who I have been e-mailing on a daily basis, and talking to on an almost daily basis, and etc. on an etc. basis....point being, aside from work, Zack's basically been what's up lately...sure, there's still all those other people, and they're well deserving of mention...but, by my calculation, Zack should be getting off work in about five minutes, so I'm gonna go catch him.

We'll get into all of this more later....I promise. I STILL LOVE YOU, READERS! (HI EMILY!!!!)

On with it.