If only

Thus ends my first post breakup relationship

Her: I love you.
Me: Ah, if only you did.

Well, that all went to hell.

But to quote a close friend:

It’s better to be the star of your own movie than have a cameo in someone else’s.

I did that the last time around.

This time, no matter how much I wish it weren’t so, I decided that I’d rather be by myself than play a cameo ever again.

I know I’m not perfect
(trust me, I’ve checked)
but I’m good enough to be
nobody’s damned,
wait-and-see.

Once a lifetime,
no matter how I feel,
once a lifetime,
it’s enough for me.

Sigh. Those blue eyes though…

Location: @6:12 PM, saying goodbye to the east side
Mood: sad
Music: I wish that I, that I could stay

Wrong baggage

Well, I’ve had an unpleasant evening. Don’t ask. I’m still not sleeping either. Maybe it’ll get better but in the meanwhile, I thought about my recent past.

I took this bag with me all over the world for two years. I had it custom made back when I had some coin.

I wanna see the sun in Santa Monica again, or the sun on Five Finger Mountain in Xinzhu again, or the sun on the Baltic Sea in Denmark again, or the…oh you get the point.

I hated traveling around the world when I had to, now I miss it so. It is always greener there, isn’t it?

No worries, I’m still hopeful. Just not here.

Too much baggage.

Location: @11:21, leaving the east side
Mood: melancholy
Music: just a notch in your bedpost But you’re just a line in a song

Baggage

Dating is all about finding someone with matching baggage

My hands are shaking again.

The only drug that I know that works to knock me out causes a rare but nasty side effect called tardive dyskinesia, which basically results in a funny twitch or tic in the face. It’s permanent, no cure. Yeah, like I need to be any weirder.

Ergo, I avoid taking it until I truly need to catch up on sleep. On a related note, as I’ve gotten older, I do more and more odd tics with my hands. Basically, I talk a lot with my hands.

Must look ridiculous on my mobile.

My friends make fun of me. I think they think I do it to be dramatic. Maybe I do, a little. But you ever jump up and down when you’re a kid because you’re so excited about something? Nervous energy. That’s me. My hands tingle and I can’t keep them still. Like an itch. Now that I drink, it’s far more pronounced.

So I’m on day two of little sleep. I suppose tomorrow I’ll have to give in because I’m seeing the girl with the blue jean eyes again.

A good friend told me that the secret to relationships is to find someone with baggage that matches yours. So true. She spent 25+ years being her; I spent 30+ years being me. It’s hard to bang two fully formed adults together to something homogeneous. But I guess people do it all the time.

I don’t know how but they do.

There’s a lot going against us, me and BJ eyes. She’s got her baggage; I’ve got mine. But I told her that I would honest with her if she would do the same for me.

I’ll take honesty and those eyes any day of the week.

Now if I could only get some @#$@# sleep…

Location: my living room, pacing
Mood: awake
Music: every time I try to make it right it all comes down on me
Site Meter

Deviations

I’m always second-guessing myself

Just finished my exams. My brain is full. Don’t think I passed all of them but I’ll take what I can get.

It’s funny; I passed the bar on my first try, mainly because the law is fascinating to me – the law itself, that is. I find the practice of law not as interesting although it has its moments. These exams were not law related and dreadfully boring.

Dreadfully…boring…

On a different topic, I’d like to talk about THAT guy. You know him.

He’s the guy that gets up an hour-and-a-half before the exam ends, puts on his baseball cap and whistles on his way out.

Can’t stand that guy.

If you are that guy, please know that we despise you and wish you ill. I hope a truck drove past you on the way out and splashed your Gap khakis with mud.

Khakis.

Who wears khakis in the winter?

I’d like to point out that I’m the other guy. The guy that’s the last to leave the exam. The guy that makes the proctor go, “I said, ‘pencils down…sir.‘” (I’m old enough now that I’m scolded with the identifier “sir.”)

I leave last because I’m always changing my mind. I’m always second guessing myself.

I do it in life all the time. Why should being on the clock be any different?

UPDATE: 20070228 01:27
When I say “guy” I mean in the gender neutral manner. Such as: “I hate that guy (or girl) and hope that s/he never realizes how big his/her butt looks in those khakis.”

Location: @13:14, in Long Island figuring out standard deviations
Mood: exhausted
Music: get this feeling I’m in motion, a certain sense of liberty

Telling tales

My life/blog has become very self-referential

My life/blog has turned oddly self-referential in that, when people want to know what I’m up to, I point them towards this but then again, some of those interactions become part of the blog. It’s hard to explain and I’m a bit muddle-headed these days so I’m not going to attempt to clarify further.

Thought of this because I got a phone call recently asking what I was up to. I, of course, pointed him here. Afterwards, he called me back and we had another conversation that reminded of an old MASH skit regarding this:

Him: So what happened?
Me: I don’t kiss and tell.
Him: Did you kiss?
Me: Can’t you tell?

Location: at a kitchen table in Queens, piled with books
Mood: working
Music: a different corner and we never would have met

Church

Atheists have as strong a belief system as anyone

Linus: Do you ever pray?
Lucy: That’s kind of a personal question, isn’t it? Are you trying to start an argument? I suppose you think you’re somebody pretty smart, don’t you? I suppose you think. . .
Linus, turning to Charlie Brown: You’re right . . . religion is a very touchy subject.”

Had a disturbing discourse the other day.

An atheist woman I know was annoyed to find that a friend was a Muslim. Religion, she noted was a bad thing. Her friend was smart, couldn’t she see how stupid religion was? Her god wouldn’t make horrible demands, kill people and do bad things, she said.

But let’s follow the bouncing ball of logic:

How does she know that God doesn’t kill people and do, what we would think, are bad things?

Because if she had a god he would not do such things.

But then, that makes her her own god.

The god of her mind hasn’t fashioned her in his image so much as she has fashioned him into her’s. Therefore her god, or lack thereof, can never be greater than herself at her best.

That is dangerous because people fail themselves all the time (I know I do). And if your god comes from within instead of without, I submit that you are headed for some grave times when misfortune does come.

And it comes – man, does it come.

Everyone falls to their knees at some point because, life is cruel.

Now, I’m totally ok with the fact that I could be wrong about everything I believe; my religion is all about that (Matthew 26:41) but it bothers me that atheists are often so smugly certain that I am wrong.

I’ve actually never met more narrow-minded people than atheists (I’m not saying all atheists but most). This one, for example, has completely cut off communication with me because she disagrees with me.

And for those that say atheism isn’t a religion, I submit that it is because: we both believe in something beyond our abilities to prove.

I cannot prove to you there is a god but you cannot prove to me there isn’t.

It’s the zealots of any religion that drive people crazy. Those that are so certain that they are right that they just don’t want to hear any other possibility. She’s a zealot for atheism because, she’d rather tune out someone rather concede she might be wrong.

I do believe in God.

To believe otherwise would mean that I’m solely in charge of my life. And that’s far too much responsibility.

As Martin Luther said to his friend, Pray, and let God worry.

I respect what you believe, regardless if you are atheist, Muslim, Buddhist, whatnot.

I worry enough as it is.

Location: still in front of a stack of papers
Mood: bored
Music: worry, worry, super-scurry; call the troops out in a hurry

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One foot

I’m head over heels with one foot in the past

A buddy gave me a bunch of LPs and 45s to sell on ebay and I took a break from studying to go through it. The 45 for this song was in the bunch and stopped me cold. I took a picture of it for my last post.

Loved this song when I was a kid. I was 11.

I was fat and had a huge crush on a girl named Yvonne.

Another girl named Grace tormented me endlessly.

Teddy and Alex beat me up regularly.

Philip was my best friend.

I believed that the house across the street was haunted and had just started to read 1984.

I remember so much.

I’m becoming that guy that spends his life with one foot in the past.

Location: @11:11AM, barred from the Harvard Club because I’m wearing jeans
Mood: busy
Music: now just how long will it last

Traditions I can trace

Loud music is the antidote when you’re fuzzy-headed

Thanks to modern chemistry, I’ve been sleeping again this week. I’m really fuzzy-headed right now. Not a good thing considering that I’ve got a two-day, sixteen hour exam at the end of this month – don’t ask.

So to wake myself up, I blare old music at all hours of the day.

I remember when I was younger, I used to put my LPs and 45s on (if you can’t relate to this, please know that I hate you) and do the same in my parents’ basement.

Heard that way back when records were made of wax, you could re-record new music by just cutting new grooves into them.

I’d like to do that with some parts of my life.

Other parts, I’d like to play
over

and
over
again.

Location: @1PM, catching the A train downtown
Mood: busy
Music: one open mind this is my four leaf clover

About time

Sometimes I do something good

Had that date finally.

Me: So what do you think?
Her: (after thinking) You did good.
Me: (laughing) I suppose it’s about time I did.

Location: @2PM, waiting in the doctor’s office,
Mood: touched
Music: I know now that I’m way down on your line

St. Val

What makes a date a date? Food?

Got a date for St. Val’s day tomorrow. I’ve been on dates before, yes, but I’m really looking forward to this one.

Did you ever read Miss Manners? I’ve got lots of issues (admittedly) but poor manners isn’t one of them. On that note, here’s her view on what a date is comprised of:

There are three possible parts to a date, of which at least two must be offered: entertainment, food, and affection. It is customary to begin a series of dates with a great deal of entertainment, a moderate amount of food, and the merest suggestion of affection. As the amount of affection increases, the entertainment can be reduced proportionately. When the affection IS the entertainment, we no longer call it dating. Under no circumstances can the food be omitted. — Miss Manners’ Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior

Think I’ve got the entertainment and food part down.

If I manage to get some sleep the night before, I might be normal enough to work in some affection.

Who am I kidding? I’ll settle for the food and entertainment.

Location: Yonkers, New York
Mood: curious
Music: every time I try to make it right, it all comes down on me

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