This Is My Life

(this is my only life)

The phrase is, "No news is good news." That seems pretty valid, in the sense that this is one of the longest breaks in this blog, and coincides with the greatest time of my entire life. Indeed, I do this more as a courtesy, as I don't feel the need to write (in my blog) much. There is little I need to figure out. My life is very, very, very blessed.

Foremost is Casey. Pandora (my romantic muse) and Caissa (my writing muse) are off-the-charts giddy and excited. I could write a thousand paragraphs on what she means to me - but will simply state that I have found my match, my friend, my confidant, my lover, my teammate, my challenger, my supporter, and my love. For all those who still search and yearn for such a person, know that I passed up a chance to settle, had to wait two and a half years filled with many questioning thoughts and wonderings about whether I would ever find someone who made me truly happy. Then came the random Friday night when I went to a gathering where I told myself I didn't even want to meet anyone and was only going to see friends... and my life changed, instantly and irrevocably. It was all the cliches. Love at first sight. It will happen when you least expect it.
Maybe yours won't work the same way, but in my case, I had to simultaneously stop looking so hard and make sure I was out there for that to happen. And I thank God daily that it did. My prayers were answered.

Sports are fun. After a tough time over the last few weeks because my heart acted up again - necessitating a hospital visit in Maui on our only family vacation west of Kansas ever - I've been tentative. But after DW's bachelor party weekend, I've realized that this is my life. This is my only life. And I will not let this rule my life. I have to push through.

Dave is getting married. :) I am so excited for the wedding. Jess is a great girl. Dave seems excited and content, a good combo. Casey has already bought a dress. I think this might be one of the best dancing opportunities of my life so far.

My city is doing amazing.
The Steelers won the Super Bowl... and I was there, in person. I was at the 18 yard line, some 33 rows back, on the end zone that James Harrison scored into after he ran across my whole field of vision. I saw Ben scramble right in front of me four or five times and marveled that he even survived, much less made critical plays. I saw Santonio Holmes's catch in a perfect window and stunning snapshot in my mind. I agonized over every reviewed call without the benefit of instant replay. We celebrated like mad.
My Penguins won the Stanley Cup, and I was in person for the entire regular season and playoff run, including Games 3, 4, and 6 of the Stanley Cup Final at Mellon Arena. I attended Game 4 with Case; it was one of the seminal sporting moments of our lives (and our relationship). We were both at the parade (with DW) with another 374,997 people. It was all so surreal. It was a script that was written four years ago... and then came true. That is what never fails to astonish me. The Game 7 experience, watched with my family, was a tie with the Super Bowl in intensity. I held hands with Case tightly, paced back and forth, laid on the kitchen table and groaned in agony. I don't even remember what happened after the last-second save Fleury made. I can't believe we did it. Arguably the most amazing championship I've ever seen.
The city is beautiful. It will host the G-20 soon, and is as gorgeous as ever to watch from Mt. Washington or to see coming through the Fort Pitt Tunnel. I've visited other big cities, like Philly and New York, but only Pittsburgh makes me feel part of it. I feel so connected to it... and so does Case. We are happy here. We feel at home here. Yay, Pittsburgh.

I'm still employed at work - even though I am writing this right now - and have the opportunity to perhaps continue schooling, if my heart is in it.

I haven't done much writing lately, mostly because of Casey - in the best way - but still think about it and love it as much as ever when I do it. I am literally hours away from being done with the first ten chapters, and capable of handing 145 pages to anyone and say, "This is the beginning of my story." That is the length of the entire book I wrote in high school. That is exciting.

5725 Phillips, in Squirrel Hill, where I've lived for four years - as long as college - is ending. Dave has moved in with Jess. Nate is buying a house. I may not follow him to it, but will look back at that time - the 5725 Phillips Ave - as the height of my bachelorhood and transition into something else. Drinking on the steps, late night bears/baseball/boobs, random wandering around the apartment in boxers, eating when you could. Total madness. Totally wonderful.

To all those who wrote nicely about this blog - maybe most eloquently summed up by Ryan Corbi, a friend from afar who wrote a note that I think about much more often than he probably guesses - hoped for more updates.

I will try to keep them coming, so check back, if you wish; I sure as hell will not abandon this writing space. I've grown to like it, and will need it in the future, I am sure.

But this is my life.

And no news, for right now, means the best news of all.

I am happy.

I Won't Hesitate, No More, It Cannot Wait

(I'm yours)

Her name is Casey.

She is 6 feet tall with long black hair, an easy smile, and astonishingly light brown eyes.

She has an amazing family. Her sister may be the sweetest person in the world; her parents, a great two-sided mix of direct uprightness and silliness; her brother, an easy-going and intelligent guy. Her little nephew and niece, Mac and Annie, are 2 1/2 and 1 respectively, and are rambunctions, intelligent children that have no qualms going straight into the dip with the same pretzel time and again.

She's been hurt before, giving her this bizarre, intriguing mix of inner strength and vulnerability.

She plays basketball, coaches the cross-country team, and is a teacher of multiple grade levels.

She can cook, including an amazing, bursting plate of grilled salmon, fresh broccoli, and seasoned potatoes, served with bread and homemade garlic oil, set to a tasty red wine at a candlelight dinner.

She will shoo you out of the kitchen 47 times as you try to smell what is being cooked, and then end up shooing you twenty times even though you're not in the kitchen, because she keeps coming into the dining room for kisses, distracting you from pictures.

She will dress up as a French maid for a France party, and with you as French butler, will put the rest of the party to shame.

She loves dancing. Loves it. Loves slow dancing, loves hip shaking, loves wedding dancing, loves fast dancing until she is covered in sweat and can barely move her legs. The sensual and free spirited nature of her is released on the dance floor.

She loves my writing style and length of e-mails, and the conversational nature of words on my words on a computer screen. She will then respond in kind, replying to e-mails and creating her own as fast as you yourself can type. She will punctuate these with emoticons, italics, and all kinds of explanation points - and never misuse a word or spell it incorrectly.

She can pout with amazing cuteness.

She is proper, yet has an intensely wild side. She is moral but open to everything. She can completely let go with someone she trusts. And she loves to spend energy.

She will stay up all night partying on one night; stay home, read a book, and watch a daytime movie another.

She loves sleeping with someone she cares about. She can fall asleep with someone nearby, can drift seamlessly in and out of consciousness, and sensually lay her long frame across yours.

She will shout as loud as you at a Penguins game, and get out of her seat on a breakaway a half-second before the rest of the section.

Above all else, she loves life. There could be no more heady, intoxicating wine for my soul.


It is - stunningly - only a little over a month since I first met her, yet every meeting, every e-mail, every date, every touch, has been an unbelievable learning, a realization that in our physicality, our hearts, our souls, we have found a like person, someone who sees the world the same we the other does, who has hopes and dreams and loves like them, and, like them, is totally falling for the other - without reservation, without fear, and without any semblance of anything like this happening before.

I am taking it slow. I am taking my time.

But she is my girlfriend. And I'm not sure I've ever been this happy.

In A Dream

(I hope not to wake from)

Our second date, we had planned to go to the park for a walk, to throw the frisbee, and maybe dinner afterwards.

She let me know that day that she wanted to cancel our plans... to invite me to her place for dinner, a movie, and a bottle of wine.

We didn't eat much dinner.
We never got to the movie.
We didn't even make it that far into the wine.

That makes it sound wilder than it was - and it wasn't like there wasn't some romance - but for almost all that time, we talked. Talked, and laughed, and commiserated, and joked, and whispered, and learned. We talked about basketball and injuries and Kennywood and haunted houses and family trips and religion and hobbies and stuffed animals and height and family resemblance and school kids and Blades of Glory and houses and writing and scrapbooks and seasons and - blessedly - being yourself. Truly, truly your self. Just writing the words has my head whirling.

I e-mailed her today, the next day. She sent back a voicemail, and an e-mail, both utterly wonderful. The e-mail, though, was glorious. In it she wrote, " I love being myself around you. I feel more alive."

Wow.

This post really needs to be predecessed by all the bizarre connections that we have found out about since meeting each other. It's... uncanny isn't even the right word. It's amazing. At times, we won't even like the same things, but her tastes compliment mine, in a way that I could never describe, writer or no.

I spent 30 minutes working with my boys about what to wear on the date, which is 29 more minutes than I usually take at most.
I couldn't sleep for an hour afterwards.
I planned to stay to 10 or so, and got back just before 1.

I am reeling, and loving it.

Sometimes, If You Really Want Something

(try to want it a little less)

After that last post, that last topic, those thoughts, I finally decided to relax. Wanting something too badly is a great way to assure that you will never have it.
So, I decided to go to the PPP (Pittsburgh Party for a Purpose) and not worry about it. No effort to try and meet women; no worrying about my single nature; simply go, and enjoy myself.
And I met a girl trying to do the same thing.
God (and his universe) are funny that way.

The first thing I noticed about her was her dancing - not shameless, but fully passionate, uncaring, less perfect than passionate, a dance that said that she danced for her and her alone, not for others' approval. She danced with two other girls (who I later found out where her sister and friend), and in what would be the first of many bizarre coincidences, was dancing to - I kid you not - the Knight Rider theme mixed with a Middle Eastern backbeat. Crazy.
I danced nearby her, enjoying the blast to my past, suddenly 10 again with a cool talking car that could turbo boost over ravines.
"It's hot in here," she suddenly said. "I'm sweating."
Instinct took over - a comment that I wouldn't have made, except for the way she was dancing, and my own personal views on the sinuous, sensual act - and leaned in.
"If you aren't sweating," I said loud enough for all three to hear, "you aren't dancing."
I knew I had struck a nerve immediately with her expression and reaction. "Yeah!" she responded, and proceeded to continue to dance, taking notice of someone nearby for the first time.

The rest of the night was a post in and of itself.
The first date, another.
Second date tomorrow.

Too early for expectations. Too early for predictions, or guesstimates. Too early for forecasts.

Not too early for hope.

And just right to enjoy, and wonder.

Waiting For The World To Change

(or my heart)

I've known, for a long time, that I am a romantic at heart. I have no qualms about giving myself, entirely, to someone, entrusting my soul to someone and receiving theirs in turn. I long for it. It is the greatest thing that can be done in this life, to share your life with another, and to walk, intertwined and unafraid, into eternity together, be it heaven or the disassociation of electrical impulses among unspecial molecules, and I'm not sure which one is more amazing.

Only recently, however, have I felt that longing.

This is a natural reaction. Martin is married. Dave is now engaged to Jess, a fact I couldn't be happier about. Jess Smith, Pez, Andrew Butcher, all are engaged to be married.

I know many people - some of whom are my friends - that are agonizing over their lack of engagement, or prospects for marriage, as if that was their goal, their reason for finding someone. To be married. Personally, I couldn't care less about marriage.

I care about love.

I've spent my time single, now. Over two years. Coupled with the relationships I was in prior this, I still have spent over 3/4 of my time taken. Many people - which include many I know - don't have anywhere near that experience, and would gladly take it. I understand that.
But it was so long in that format that being out of it confused me; I didn't remember the game, didn't remember how, and am not sure I ever did. Interests pass and go.

Had a dance with someone who cared, for the first time in a long time, on Saturday night. Her name was Stacey, and she was Gillian's friend, from out of town. She claimed she was unable to dance. She claimed to be terrible at swing. But she cleared space on the floor and kicked off her shoes in mid-dance - hitting people on the side of the floor as she did so - and sweated and moved and stayed close. I ran my hands through her hair, and she placed her hand on my hip. We danced with each other until they stopped the music and kicked everyone out at the end of the night. They stopped far too early.

She left on Sunday, her smile, conversation, and dance a welcome touch on my heart, a girl I likely will never see again. Nothing more.

But I forgot how much I missed that.

I said to myself once - regretfully - that I would rather pass almost all of the years of my life alone and find my true love at 81 than to be married to the wrong person at 27. Sadly, this is still true.

The Blood

(flows)

Life - on the whole - is going well.
Maybe that's why I haven't written. Pigeon in the Sun's greatest fault is her inability to write anything when things are well. This is different than being unable to write something happy; it's just that if the overall situation is good, you can expect shockingly longer wait times for posts, shorter posts when they are written, and generally a lack of the kind of molten power that suffuses some of her work. Hey, they can't all be bombshells. But the trend persists.
Maybe that's what's happening here.

It's odd - I feel strangely... disconnected. This is how I felt when my grandpa died. This is also how I felt - often - when my Aunt Linda died. Strangely disconnected, like everything that I lived and watched and saw was a play, a dress rehearsal for the real thing. This didn't matter. It wasn't real. I don't know what that says about me. A coping mechanism, I believe. That makes sense; but then, what am I coping with now?

When confused about my own internal motivations, I have always been able to count on my dreams to lead the way. They lead me down paths that wind and trail, through sea road overloooks and red-gold forests so thick with unwanted memories that they pile around you like the snows of a decade past. But they all eventually lead me to my heart.
I wrote down one of my dreams in detail here once. The result was so terrifying I've never done it again. For someone who occasionally prides himself on the strength of his creativity and innovation, it is terrifying to see what it can do in a realm where it is the sole master, and is not bound by the realms of my conscious or subject to its overarcing authority. My dreams are much more real, for that reason; the unvarnished truth, whether I like it or not.

I dream of people.

I dream of everyone, eventually; why I have a constant track of dreams that involve others that I know in my life, I do not know. Perhaps the storyteller in my muse perfers vivid characters to tell its story, like an artist would prefer the best paints for her canvas.
For an optimistic person, my dreams are amazingly equal in tone. 50% of my dreams are what one would call 'good'. Things generally happen to the benefit of the characters involved; tough times are usually overcome or an acceptable part of a better situation. Of those 50%, 5% of those dreams are fantastic dreams, ones that I actually hurt when I realize that it is not real. These can be easy, and often reaffirm the realities I could pull out of my conscious mind, with a little effort. A dream of resting in front of the fire at Chautauqua, with different friends all cozied up on the couches, equates to how special I feel moments (and history, ambience, and happiness) are to a friendship. A dream of dying and rising to Heaven, to see the land and know that more lay ahead, equates to my fervent (faith? hope?) of an afterlife.
The other 50% are not so good. And the 5% of this group are the epic ones, the terrible ones I will always remember.
The death of my brother, and how empty the family dinner table felt, and the terrible realization that I would never wrestle with him again or throw the frisbee or watch him grow to be his own man, woke me up in a dead sweat that left me sad that I sleep alone. Some time ago, waking up from choosing to let Margaret die had me over my own toilet, head swimming, trying (failing) to get the images out of my head: her sad face, the sight of her injured body, her lack of cries. I'll never know whether 4:43 was five minutes after I was in that bathroom or five hours. Time had left a long time ago.
That dream (and its compatriot two days later, a joyous one of saving her from an onrushing bus) did some good, letting me know that there was an imbalance in myself I had to correct, something that I had to do myself. That is good. But at the time... they were very hard. Very real.
Why do I bring this up now? I don't know. Maybe because at times like that, I've never felt more connected to reality.
It's good to remember those times now.

Life is very good now. I have some money, and a great family. I work at a good job and cheer on my favorite teams. I think often of an artist in Alexandria, a firelass in New York, and a long-found friend in California. My role models are nursing in Chicago, too busy to give me the time of day in New York, and working until 11:30 in Pittsburgh and none of them know what I think of them. I know a girl who likes me that I don't care for, I like a girl who doesn't care for me, and one girl has been shooting me smiles and I have no idea what each other are reading.
That is life.
Since my heart, I've often thought of how important it was to really, truly enjoy. To cast off the reservations of society and others; to stop, even unconsciously, thinking about what others think about you; to look up into the rain and laugh and not care. Just enjoy. Just experience life.
A watched pot never boils. A life enjoyed flows slowly through the hourglass. And blood flows more slowly through the veins.
Everyone's in a headlong rush to get ahead. Silly. No matter what, all roads lead to death.

I don't mind not winning that race.

A Step

(to eternal happiness)

Barbara is engaged.

It was only a matter of time. Of all the people I had ever met, I was most convinced that Barbara would be married some day. She was just too much to withstand: too kind, too sweet, too cute, and too loving not to have someone fulfill her dreams of love, family, and (maybe) children. I was supremely confident that God would bless Barbara with someone she could spend the rest of her life with... not that I am convinced, may I add, that she really needed the help.
She is marrying Ed, who (by all accounts) is a fantastic friend and person, and who has been faithful in his time and place. He has been there for rough times, and on the occasions I've talked to him he has been very kind. These are all good things.
I find myself so... happy, about this. If this was anyone else, almost any other girl I met, I'd be confused, or perhaps jealous, or (with the right people) really jealous... but this is Barb. It's downright impossible to be jealous when Barbara is concerned; this is doubly so when I am this happy for her. I've never been happier for another person's announcement of impending marriage, even if millions of guys (if they knew) would be cursing the heavens if they knew the type of person that was now off the market.

I won't always remember everything about Barbara. Alas, that ability was stripped of me long ago; I must make do with bits and pieces around gaping holes, a Cliff Notes version of what should be a timeless classic. And I know it was that good because what I do remember was so special. Discussions on the West Campus grass... her quiet but strong, dignified belief... her cute, almost quaint propriety and her total enjoyment of abandoning it.
I learned friendship from Margaret, duty from Nate, and love from Julie, but I learned more in less time from Barbara about life than almost anyone I can think of. She was one of a very select group of women that could make me feel woozy, my skin tingle, my mouth dry, my palms sweat. She made me feel alive. I'll always regret not spending more time with her when I had the chance... but our situations were so bizarre, so unique, that it's hard for me to feel bad. I'm glad our paths crossed. I'm glad I enjoyed it. And I'm glad I got to see her find her way.

So I say to her: Go! Enjoy!! I could not wish anything better for you than the life you are already living, and the future I fully believe you have in store, in this life and beyond. You will now have someone to walk through the rest of your life with, to love with, and to lay yourself to rest with.
And I am content knowing that.

Congratulations, Barbara. I am so proud of you. I wish you the best.

What You Want

(from life)

"I have found the best way to give advice to your children," wrote Harry S Truman, "is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it."

Sometimes, life is so complicated that we get caught up in all the day-to-day activities, get bogged down with all the immediate needs, that we lose sight of the basics. Particularly in the midst of a transitional time, it's easy to lose one's way.
Paraphrasing Truman, life is very simple.

Figure out what you want. Then go get it.

There are very few things that I want in this world.
In the life sense, anyway. There are many things I want, generally speaking. I want a Wii, for example. I want a dodgeball championship (accomplished most recently last night). Some cash. A book. A massage. I always want chocolate.
But in the life sense... there are very few things I want. They are:

- To create something that gives others the same sense of wonder, enjoyment, sorrow, and excitement I felt reading some of my favorite fantasy stories.
- To live a worthwhile life, to play hard and fair, to make others' lives better for the brief time I am in them.
- To love, and be loved, by someone special. To be with a girl that I hold higher than everyone else, higher than the world, higher than myself - someone who makes my heart race, makes me want to strive to be the best person I can be just by her mere presence. I want full, fierce, lasting, tender, love. A romance I cannot live without - and as a corollary, will die for, and die happily. There is no greater sacrifice. And none easier.

Those are the three.

#1 is going well, if a little slowly. Not so slowly, however, in the last few months.
#2 is good, though a struggle. I am fairly confident of the existence of God and the sense of right and wrong that exists; but I am not so sure of humankind's interpretation of it and I go to church less than I should.
#3 is the hardest of all, and currently the one exhibiting the least progress.

The bizarre thing is, I have the strongest faith that #3 will happen. Odd, isn't it? That the element that I have the least movement on is the one I am least concerned about? I don't know why this is.
It might be because of my belief in love. I left a long-term relationship, not because the girl I was with was a bad person, but because I wasn't sure that I couldn't live without her. It would have been so much easier to remain, to let things take their course. We were comfortable, had worked well together.
But I want something I can barely think about without cracking a smile. I want someone that is simultaneously my greatest friend, my hardest taskmaster, my best ally and surest confidant.
I am fairly certain that the girl I will be with will be imaginative, will have the capacity to be sensuous, will mix in a slight dose of insanity to keep things interesting and a hundred other things I could list. I am fully certain, however, that the girl I will be with will have traits I will never have thought of, or wouldn't even have picked if I had the option; but they will be part of her, intrinsic and mysteriously integral, perhaps even occasionally contradictory, defying explanation or analysis as to how they combine into something beautiful. I have contradictory traits; my proclivity for formality weighed with my occasionally willful ignorance of public opinion is an example. Human beings are a bizarre mix. Hell, love itself can be like that.
I've felt love, of course. I've had love - love that is comfortable, that is good in its simplicity, that is nice and kind in its persistence.
And that is just what it is. Comfortable. Unassuming. A warm blanket on a somewhat chilly morning, something that encourages you to stay in bed permanently, to shy away from getting up and seeing the sunrise in all it's bitterly bright, beautiful-in-the-cold glory. It's nice to stay in bed, don't get me wrong. But one day you wake up and realize that you traded comfort for beauty; what was easy for what was best; and you realize that your avoidance of something bad comes with the failure to achieve something worth your trouble.

I won't stay in bed any longer.

It will be far from perfect, of course. The love I search for doesn't have to know itself right away. It will have its faults, as nothing involving human beings is ever perfect. But it will be special, and precious, and something worth fighting for. Something worth dying for.
And I have had glimpses of it. I have met two women that have made me sway on my feet, that made my heart rush, that made my stomach turn and my head spin. They questioned, they laughed, they hurt, they loved. They are, indeed, special people.
It can be done.

It is a lot to ask, I know. Some say life is not perfect; others that life is cruel. I disagree, to some extent. At heart, I am an optimist, not an idealist; but I am also a romantic, in the original sense of the word. My stance on love is, in some ways, a gamble - as my refusal to settle for less than the best risks me from experiencing it at all. Women in particular feel this, I understand, as the years go on; they feel as if they are running out of time, that they have to get something or they will have lost, somehow, or maybe just lost their opportunity. I can understand where they are coming from, to some extent. It is a scary proposition to live life alone, particularly when you have not truly experienced love before. I can see why people would settle for something good, instead of something incredible. It is risky.
But I have to try. This is my only life. This is my only chance at existence. If there is a God, I trust that He will help me achieve something so monumental.
And if there is not a God, and this existence is merely a composition of atoms and chance events? That 'love' is a mere biochemical reaction, surviving over millions of years for its evolutionary benefits?
All the more reason I want the highest ideal I can imagine.

This is my life.

I want to write.
I want to make people happier.
I want love.

I want.

.

An Offer

(still treasured)

"I can make it worth your while."
We were alone, and the words seemed to reverberate in the air. I stared at her, disbelieving.

It had been her party, and it had been a good one - catching up with old friends, hanging out with current ones, in general having a good time. It was getting late, and the party was given an official end (as opposed to some others which just sort of peter out without proclamation). People got their coats and hats. I went to get mine, but she touched my hand, and whispered in my ear.
"Wait."
She said her goodbyes to people, thanking them for coming. A few asked if I was coming out, and unsure of how to reply, I said I would be following shortly. This seemed to satisfy them. She closed the door behind them after the last one left, and sat on the other side of the couch, facing me.
She said she wanted to be able to enjoy ourselves. I knew just what she meant. We had only been together on one occasion, in the past, and while very pleasant, it had not been overly serious. But now... we were alone, and had no obligations. She reminded me that this would be the last opportunity for... days? Weeks? Months? Years? Forever? This was a turning point in her life, before she went on to hopefully bigger and better things. If there was ever a night I could enjoy myself without reservation for the future, this was it.
Something went through me, a twinge of... what? Caution? Excitement? I wasn't sure. I was free to enjoy myself, as I was under no obligations at the time, had the freedom to enjoy the whole night if I wanted, to any extent I wanted, to the very limits of my private morality. So where was this hesitation coming from? Something... somewhere. I hesitated. "I should probably go."
She leaned slightly forward, staring at me with her deep eyes, and said it.
"I can make it worth your while."
Unbelievable. It was like something out of a book, a movie. She watched me, unblinking, her beautiful hair going down her back as she breathlessly awaited my reply. Clearly she was very serious. I was suddenly very aware of the cut of her dress. She always had been very pretty. Intentionally or not, she was using every ounce of her sexuality now.
How many men - or women - would go through their entire lives without an offer like this? In a scenario tailor-made for one night of enjoyment, to let all inhibitions go and simply enjoy the pure carnality? That one time, in the past, had been semi-spontaneous, a thoroughly enjoyable, if milder, experience. This was laden with much more suggestive promises. A much wilder experience.
Why would I pass that up?
And yet... I thought of Barbara. How sweet, how pure a soul. Of all people, she deserved a friendship first. And yet we both got caught up in the physical aspect - the weaker aspect. Nothing we did was wrong, nothing we did was incorrect... and yet, somehow, I found myself thinking afterwards how I wished our last moments had been on a walk. Or a bench. Or a good conversation.
Why was I thinking of this now?
She put her hand on my thigh. "You can do what you want to."
That also made my head reel. I was being seduced! And not in a bad way - it was obvious she wanted this for herself, and me. She wanted to enjoy one last night. Was that wrong? I in particular react quite favorably to that idea. Why then was I hesitating? That very hesitiation was hurting her. I could see it in her eyes.
But still I thought. We were both silent for what seemed like ages.
With a sudden shock, I knew what the feeling in my stomach was, the confused/excited/sad/intrigued feeling that I couldn't place. Or to be more specific, I still didn't know what it was - but I knew what the last time I felt it had been. That had been in a car with a friend, on the gravel to the side of the street, outside a house at 1:30 AM on a cold October night long, long ago. That night, for better or worse, I had to make a decision. I didn't know it at the time, but it was a life-changing one. How different would my life be if I had chosen the other path? I would never know. But I will never forget that feeling I had in the car that night.
I was now feeling it for the second time.
I told her to wait, that I had to think. For whatever reason, this decision I was about to make was life-changing. This was momentous. And worst of all, there was no wrong answer, no right answer. Just like last time. This wasn't about resisting temptation. Just like last time - just like that cold October night that I have thought about for years and years afterwards - there was no right decision. But last time, the way I chose was wrong. It hurt my friend. I felt that pain for a long time.
So I had to choose right this time. Not make the right decision... but make whatever decision I made in the right way.
And I had it.
"Thank you so much for the offer," I said as sincerely as I could possibly manage. "It is deeply, truly appreciated. You are beautiful, and sexy." I meant every word. To enjoy her would be divine. "But I should probably go."
I got my hat and coat. I gave her a hug, a powerful ending compared to what might have been shared. And I walked out into the cold night. The time had to be around 1:30.

It still hurt her, I know. It is a brave thing, to offer yourself freely like that - and to have that turned down, regardless of the reason, is painful. To her credit, I have not been able to forget about that offer since. Those eyes, that hair... I get chills now. I often wonder what it would have been like, to enjoy a woman like that.
But, to my surprise, I felt happy. That I had the chance to have a night of wild passion... and turned it down, for no more reason than I didn't want to cheapen our friendship. I proved that I could put values above sex, even when it wasn't required. I felt like I had proven my worth. Even though I proved it only to myself. And suddenly, I felt better about Barbara as well, mentally wishing her the best from afar. I felt happy.
And now, years later, I called upon that experience to resist concentrating too much on physical need and more on friendship. That night taught me that. Amazing how life can come full circle like that.

And if she ever offers again and I'm not taken... I will make it worth her while.

So Many Paths

(but which way will you go)

In the midst of total work madness, I find myself coming to a crossroads in life.
Isn't that the way it always works? It's not during a relaxing, uncomplicated time that you could devote 100%, or even the majority, of your time, effort, and thought to so that you came to a calm, rational decision about the matter. Instead, you have to work around a crazy schedule with multiple responsibilities, mulling over the problem in stolen moments when you probably should be doing something else.
Julie will be visiting this summer and it will most likely define the next few years of my life - in particular whether I'm headed to a long-term relationship with a very distinct goal or I am single again for the first time in over five and a half years. The sheer enormity of it is so big that it is difficult to grasp mentally. I need to think what is best not only for myself, but her. If I didn't have such faith that what is best for me is best for her and vice versa, I would probably be terrified that what was best for her would be worst for me, and vice versa.
Ah well. At least I can see the issue coming. Sometimes you run into huge crossroads in life blind, casually choosing your path, maybe (if you're lucky) with some hint that your choice will have massive complications - though you have no idea what they could be - and only far down the road realize your choice has changed your path forever, and there's no way to turn around and go back. That's the funny thing about time. It's a one-way street. And you look back at the crossroad fading in the distance, wondering what could have been if you had taken the road less traveled.
In life, we don't regret what we did. We regret what we didn't.
That kind of revelation is extremely unpleasant.

My volleyball team got knocked out in the semifinals in heartbreaking fashion, being only three points away from the championship match at one point before losing. A good season, though there is a personality or two that is wearing on the squad heavily. That kind of issue is non-existent (thankfully) on the dodgeball team, who start their season this coming Monday with immense anticipation. Coupled with Tuesday co-ed basketball - in which I have both volleyball and dodgeball members, including my sister Emmie - I will be playing dodgeball on Mondays, basketball on Tuesdays, volleyball on Thursdays, and even refereeing dodgeball on Wednesdays if there are enough signups. It is going to be simply wonderful.

I had a nice little meeting with Martin the other night, which really woke up Caissa and made me miss writing. I simply must continue hammering away on getting the first draft done. I'm getting bogged down on the details, in trying to make things the best they can be before moving onto something else, and I realize now that I would be better served trying to get down my first draft of everything and going back to correct it. I have a rare-in-instance but strong-when-it-comes perfectionist streak - we're talking someone who completed every level of Doom I and II with 100% kills, items, and secrets, not to mention complete beatings of other games like Burnout 3 and Soul Calibur II - and maybe that's what's going on here. Either way, I plan on upping the production of new material, not just working on what's already there. Martin inadvertantly (though not completely) gave me a wonderful idea, so I have even more incentive to write, most likely at the expense of my work.
Big surprise there.

New computer coming today or tomorrow. Excitement!

What We Blog In Life

(echoes in eternity)

Today was a rollercoaster emotional day.
As for above, my friend Dave recently watched Gladiator and can't stop quoting from it. I am fine with this. Not only is Gladiator one of the most quotable movies of all time, I personally love it. So quotes have been flying around of all kinds, some bordering on the edge of insanity. "Remind me, but didn't the Connecticutians LOSE the battle to leave work early?" was really teetering for a while.

My mood did a complete 180 a few hours later.
You know how music can really inspire emotion occasionally, particularly if the song is heartfelt and the lyrics meaningful? Rage, sadness, loss, confusion, any emotion you want... well I got freaking blitzkrieged. I was listening to a CD and song after song after song pelted me. I realized that I was sitting at my desk, not actually coding, just overwhelmed by the music. Every time I thought I had gotten a handle a new song came on and swept out the rug again.
I only made it to track 9. Maybe the songs were written, created to instill that emotion; maybe I was reading into the lyrics in ways that only I could; but either way, I was getting absolutely overwhelmed. I shut off everything (I had worked 10 hours anyway) and went home.

The whole way there my mind was alternatively racing and floating around. I hated it but couldn't stop it. So many thoughts that they were just overwhelming. Dark thoughts, past thoughts, confused thoughts.
So I went home and - I believe God was planning this - Julie called and asked how my day was and exactly what I was thinking. And I let loose. Cannon fire. Send in the dogs. Hide the women and children. Three-alarm fire in the kitchen sink.
And miraculously, after some heated discussion, it worked out. Perfectly. We talked, we agreed, we learned. Or to be more specific, I did on some matters. She did on others. And we came to exactly the same realization - to let it go.
And the thoughts melted away.

If you're confused, so am I. What a crazy, insane world this is.
But remind me to never deny someone a second chance, even if you expect the worst. There is the very slim chance you might get the best.

I'm Wearing Smiley-Face Boxers

(and they glow in the dark)

That's right. Be jealous.

So this weekend was incredible and awful at the same time. To wit:

The Good:
Julie and I had a great time at the party. They had a live pasta bar at dinner where you could order all these kinds of pasta with all kinds of things in it and three kinds of sauces and they would cook it right in front of you. It was awesome. The marinara was also incredible.
Then, Julie and I were utterly cleaning up at the Texas Hold-Em table. Despite the fact that roulette, craps, and blackjack were all available, we spent the entire two hours at the same table. With each of us starting at 10,000 chips, I was up to 40000 and Julie was up to 35000 at one point. I lost it all on the last hand of the night - which was fine with me - but Julie stayed up, tripling her starting amount. While the raffle (where you turned in chips for raffle tickets) didn't get us anything, we were still pretty happy.
The highlight of the night was after the card games were over, when everyone was going to the dance floor. However, with 300 people in the company, people kept gradually filing in, and no one seemed to want to get on the dance floor. At one point there was 200 people in the banquet room (with tables for 300 in a 180 degree arc around the huge dance floor) and there were maybe 10 people dancing, all of them women. Seriously. This was not helped by the fact that the DJ was playing songs like "Man, I Feel Like A Woman." Hint to all DJ's: If you want to get people to dance - particularly men - DO NOT PLAY "MAN, I FEEL LIKE A WOMAN." MEN AVOID THIS SONG LIKE A ROOT CANAL VIA THE INTESTINAL TRACT. Anyway, sensing desperation, I went to the DJ and requested a swing song, and after some questioning determined that the only song that he had out of the 90's swing era was "Zoot Suit Riot" by the Cherry Poppin Daddies. This song is one of the fastest and most energetic ones there is. And it's also about 4 minutes long, an eternity when you're going as fast as the song is. To top it off, I have traditionally danced Zoot Suit Riot with Margaret, who can match the intensity that the song requires. Julie has always been hesitant to dance to it for that reason, both because it's tough to match the energy and because we usually don't dance to it. Also, to say that we were rusty was an extreme understatement. Julie had gone swing dancing maybe twice in the last year. But it was the only option, we shrugged and gave it a try.
We chased everyone off the dance floor within 10 seconds. On a huge dance floor, in front of my entire company, Julie and I put on a swing dancing show for 4 minutes in front of 200 people. We got cheers for most things we did, and nearly brought the house down with the Pretzel (if you know swing dancing moves). By the end it was pretty sloppy, as both of us were gasping for air (the song is a nightmare to go the full length of). But we finished nicely and we got an ovation from the 200+ people watching. It was pretty incredible. The DJ went nuts. We got to bow and staggered off, and after that there were plenty more people dancing. We got compliments throughout the night.

The Bad:
After the dance, Julie and I practically died. I had a tough time breathing, something that hadn't happened for months, and I was suddenly reminded that February was ending and spring was coming, and with it my newfound allergy-induced asthma. Damn asthma, I feel like some kind of diseased bug. It's not even real asthma. The people with real asthma probably are much more at peace with their problem, but spending most of my life healthy and active and never worrying for a minute about something as simplistic as breathing makes me infuriated that something as simple as the time of year or a lot of cigarette smoke could lower my maximum air capacity drastically - not a problem when you're sitting or walking around, but if you go into a majorly vigorous swing dance and suddenly need your full air capacity and don't have it, there's suddenly a desperate need for air. So I spent a good 15 minutes sitting down, attempting to gradually get my airflow back under control. Meanwhile, Julie's bronchitis (a yearly winter occurence) wasn't too happy either, so she sounded like a demon of hell with a sore throat. The night was almost over, we hadn't won anything in the raffle, so we decided to call it a night.
After coming home from a big dance (it was a semi-formal) one might think some amorous events might be in the air. Whatever our intentions were, though, were quickly changed when I had to go to the bathroom and throw up everything I've eaten for the last two days. Within an hour I was joined by Julie, who threw up everything she had eaten. We alternated for the rest of the night and through the dark morning, in which my bathroom rug was ruined and both of us had gotten about a half-hour of sleep.
At some point - around 11 AM - Julie was bent over the bathtub and I was bent over the toilet, neither of us speaking, for about 45 minutes. Finally, I managed, "This was not quite how I meant to spend the day."
I'm sure she would have laughed, but we were busy throwing up at the time.
So I didn't even drive her back to the airport because I was so destroyed. (So was she. Her mom had to pull the car over on the way to the airport.) I didn't stop throwing up until Sunday night.
We're pretty sure that it was food poisoning, considering we both had the same symptoms, same starting time, and same duration. We both had prime rib - from back-to-back slices - so we think that was the culprit. But whatever the case, look out.

So Monday I called off from the half-day I was taking - I had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon - and the most interesting thing that happened was me answering the pizza guy shirtless and pants unbuttoned and unzippered. Honestly, I have never answered the pizza guy with more than pants on. Sometimes just boxers. Once I only used a stuffed shark. But that's another story.

So after all that, I can only end this entry one way:
On Friday, my parents gave me one of my Christmas presents I forgot at the house. That's right. Smiley face boxers. And the smileys glow in the dark.
Oh yeah.

It's Only Five Miles

(a nice stretch of the legs)

20 points for whoever knows where this quote is from. Great movie of yore in honor of the Academy Awards coming up.

Tonight Julie and I go out to the Strategic Energy company party at the Downtown Mariott. I have been looking forward to this for a while as Strategic Energy really knows how to treat its employees right. They doubtlessly will spare no expense (like giving everyone two complimentary drinks) so I think it's really going to be a blast. Also, I want to wipe some people out in Texas Hold 'Em tonight. Heads up!!

I've been thinking a lot about my friends from afar recently - Jess, the guys, Margaret - and wondering how they're doing. Hopefully things are going well. I guess this really is a good time to go on a few trips. I love Pittsburgh, but I love friends more.

I just came back from having Sesame Inn for lunch. This is after I had Sesame Inn with Martin on Thursday night... and chances are at about 95% that Julie and I will go to Sesame Inn for lunch on Sunday. I'm addicted, it's kind of scary, but the food is too good to worry about. As my friend Tom Miller would say, "If it's wrong I DON'T WANT TO BE RIGHT!"

Simple thoughts today. Other than smacking those women who think that clothes are the point of existence.

Perhaps I'll spill one of my complimentary drinks on them.

Happy Valentine's Day

(if you're single)

I re-read my previous post today and boy, did it have some feeling behind it. Some people are uncomfortable with putting their emotions down on paper. Not me. Go back and look at the very first entry of this blog. I write this for myself first, to help myself sort out my own feelings and have a record of my own thoughts. If people want to come along for the ride, that's all well and good, but I won't hold back what I think or feel for anyone. So if you don't like posts like the previous one, well, get out now.
You've been warned. :)
In all actuality, my friend Dave sent me an e-mail today about that post that was simply wonderful. It really helped me pull out of the bitter mood I was in and gave me an outside perspective on what I had been doing these last years. The e-mail was long and kind, and that kind of reassurance is invaluable.
I have come to realize over the years - later than I should have, but realized all the same - that there are few things more valuable than friends who will stick up for you without question.

I'm still at work here, at 8:15 PM and will be for a bit longer. I had a very good breakthrough in my code late this afternoon. Database programming is very different from procedural programming. It requires looking at the code in an entirely different way. It's kind of like spending an entire day upside down. At the beginning, everything's backwards and you can't go anywhere without bumping into anything. But after a while, your brain compensates and you realize it's all the same thing, just flipped over. And then your brain adjusts, and you can start doing everything you normally would, and suddenly you cease to think of everything as being flipped over. It's just a different way of looking at it.
That was the breakthrough I had at about 3:30 PM. I fixed three serious bugs in my program and am cooking along to the final portion of the code. It has to be done by the 17th, but I want to try and get it done quicker. After missing so much work in January, I am here to kick ass and take names. This job is my livelihood and I won't give it up lightly.

One note that I think is particularly appropriate on this supposed day of love: All you singles out there! Particularly those who dread this day as some kind of announcement that you are lacking in some way! You have the rest of your life to be furious, confused, and bewildered courtesy of the opposite gender, in which you will personally utter, "How do women and men even live on the same planet?" Enjoy your singleness, your freedom to look over the opposite gender like looking at apples in a grocery store, your open nights and your available status. Remember, St. Valentine was having a deep relationship with a woman in the 400's, in which he was rumored to sign in his notes, "From your Valentine." He was then executed for having an affair with the opposite sex. The moral of the story? Romance with the opposite sex sometimes kills.
Perhaps we should all go gay.
My valentines go out to all the singles out there. Take heart.

Confusion and Sleeplessness

(never a good mix)

So Julie visited over the weekend. We had a good time, and continued the somewhat scary trend of eating more than 50% of our meals at Sesame Inn. I am addicted to good Chinese food and proud of it. In fact, all aspects of my Chinese are increasing, as I typed "Shyn Nyen Hao" over IM today which, if someone was dosed up with enough drugs, might be interpreted as a transliteration of "Happy New Year" in Chinese. Miraculously, Margaret knew what I meant. It must be the Irish blood understanding me and the Chinese blood understanding Chinese, because when I tried it out with my Chinese coworker, Shuyu, she shuddered as if I had committed a felony against the Chinese language. She stated that I sounded like "a witch." I could not, however, bring myself to ask for the Chinese words for "bubble, bubble, toil and trouble".
But back to the visit - it was nice, a nice Valentine's Day weekend, though as always when Julie comes then goes, a little odd. She's got the ability for strangeness - if she didn't, I couldn't date her - but there is always a hold on her, sort of a natural societal barrier that prevents her from doing anything out of the norm in public. She got angry at me for walking up the edge of the steps on the side of Washington School as opposed to actually using the steps. To me, comments like that are a bucket of cold water to the face. It's such the antithesis of my natural spirit that it worries me. That kind of incident weighs far more heavily on my mind then say, her stance on religion or politics.
Yet in private, she can occasionally be downright strange and funny, and it's hard to tell sometimes if an issue between us really exists or is a mere byproduct of the fact that we've lived three hours apart for four years, and now seven hours apart for another. And her pluses, like effort and her willingness to always work out a problem, can't be understated.
And, as always when I think about these things, I realize the only way I'll be able to figure out things for sure is if we live in the same city for more than a week. And that in the meantime, to be fully committed to doing whatever it takes to understand myself better. And that brings us back... to exactly where we were prior this weekend. Sigh.
People usually ask how long we've been dating. I tell them over five years. They say, "Wow, that's a long time!"
And what I want to say is, "Sounds like it - but when you see each other once every month or every other month or so, it doesn't seem like it. You work so hard at keeping your relationship in good faith, but it's so hard to make it grow. Then, in the summer, you spend a month at the beginning getting it back to the point where it could grow, and a month at the end preparing it to go into that horrible distant thing again, and you're left with one month of growth a year. So, in all honesty, I sometimes feel like we've been dating for about one year, not five."
But instead, I just say, "Yes."
Then they inevitably ask, "How far away is she again?" And I say, "Seven hours." And they say, "That must be very tough."
And what I want to say is, "Especially after being three hours away regardless of what side of the state I was in during college. And this is after our plan - our light at the end of the tunnel - that after all those years of sacrifice and staying at home on Friday night and the phone calls and months where your relationship was little words in a little box - that we would be more than twice as far apart as before. And how fair is that? I had the privelege of meeting some amazing women in college, one in particular that the thought crossed my mind, 'If things were different...' How many opportunities did I miss, did Julie, to get to know new people, to get to experience new ideas, new situations? I don't want to marry Julie. I don't want to marry anyone for three years at minimum. I just want the chance, I want to give her the fair trial that she deserves after all the sacrifices that she made for these hellacious years now. Where she can at least have a fair comparison to everyone else, where she's not starting forty feet behind the starting line because of her location or living situation. And how many fun nights did I throw away? How many friendships did I outright destroy? How many friends and acquaintances did I push aside? How many other opportunities did I completely ignore without even giving them so much as a thought? And the years of these decisions, some of them so bitter that to think about what you lost and what could have been might drive you into an absolute fury, the sheer weight of five years of sacrifice is so overbearing that it taints your whole perception of what the right choice is? For to throw it away now would be to look back on those decisions - the ones you hide from, that your mind has blacked out and that made your soul bleed - and face them and say, 'I threw this away for nothing.' Yet how do you make a decision to stay based on the past when the only thing that should be in your thoughts is what would happen in the future?"
But what I say is, "Yes."

"Yes, five years. Yes, it is a long time. Yes, she's about seven hours away. Yes, it can be tough, but I'm seeing her in late March, so it's all okay."

Stop asking. I'm tired of giving out the socially acceptable response.
We beat the overwhelming, throat-choking odds that 99% of high-school relationships break up in college. We changed our lives and considered our careers and modified our dreams and hurt friendships and missed out on opportunities. Not to stay together. Not to keep our relationship going. Just so that, one day, we would have the freaking opportunity to find out whether any of the sweat and the tears and the blood we shed was worth it.
Or whether, in the most bitter view, it was all for nothing.

Dangerous

(but rewarding)

I have been described as such and am honored to be so.

I found two new blogs yesterday. One is Margaret's, and her stuff is always interesting to read. Besides, hers looks a lot prettier than mine.
The other one surprised me - Ryan Corbi's, my little brother from Singers. Great guy, wonderfully deep guy that doesn't try to be deep. A man of faith and a man of horrendous sexual comments. Some woman is going to get really lucky with him.
Two great new blogs to read. :)

Our team lost all 3 games last night to fall to 4-8. We played a good team, but our serving abanonded us in game 1, our serve receive in game 2, and our passing and hitting in game 3. None of these bode well for competitive volleyball. The only highlight of the night was Nate going up for a middle hit and obliterating this thing. The other team's big middle blocker deflected it sideways, but it lost none of its velocity and hit a rather well-endowed female opponent directly in the chest. I am not making this up when she grabbed her chest and yelled, "Ow!! ...Now I'll never be able to breast-feed!"
Question here. Do women think that getting in hit in the chest is as painful as a guy getting hit in the groin? Having been on the receiving end of my share of groin blows (usually from basketball) I can tell you that when you really get hit there, it's excruciating. You know you've gotten hit bad if the pain sort of goes up and resides in your kidneys. Ouch. This is why whenever other guys see another guy get nailed in the family jewels, the instinctive reaction is to wince and shield the area. They know the pain.

This actually leads to a long-standing discussion I've had with some friends. Is it better to be a man, or a woman? I've come to my own conclusion, but let's look at the evidence.

Women (minuses):
- That time of the month. Leak in the plumbing.
- The 'joy' of childbirth. Like an elephant through a Cheerio.
- Women stereotypes. Sexism, less able to handle high-powered jobs, seen as sexual objects first, the list goes on.
- 9 months of pregnancy. Like carrying around a bowling ball, and you can't exercise, can't run, and can't bend over.
- Multiple fluctuating hormone events. Puberty, time of the month, pregnancy, sexual peak, menopause, all of them can send the recipient to LaLa Land.

Women (pluses):
- Freedom of any hair style. Try being a guy in the corporate world with hair longer than your ears.
- Choice in 'good' clothing. Dresses, formal jacket, all colors and designs. Men have the choice of: a suit.
- The joy of childbirth. A beautiful miracle.
- Longer lifespan, by an average of at least 9 years. What would people pay for 9 more years of life?
- Women stereotypes: demure, not meant for physical activity, etc. Trust me, there are many women who use this to their advanatage. How many guys have come to kill a large spider or clean the gutters at a woman's bequest?
- Vastly more accepted sexual behavior. Guys are supposed to like all come ons from women. If I gave a smile and a wink to a female coworker, I could honestly be fired. If I tried to get a woman in trouble for the same, I'd probably be laughed at.

Women (conclusion): More pluses than minuses, but some of those minuses are BIG minuses, namely the time of the month and the nine months of pregnancy. Both of those would be rough to handle. The fluctuating hormones seems to effect some women more than others. I actually have great respect for women who I can't tell when they are having some wild hormone run. On the other hand, I've known women that announce their body processes like a train schedule.
Ah well. On to:


Men (minuses):

- Male stereotypes: strong, unemotional, decisive. You'd really be surprised how unconsciously people still follow these.
- External genitalia. For all women who think this is not a big deal, I urge you to watch a guy's face after he pictures these five words: "Baseball bat to the gonads."
- Sex-inherited diseases. Having only one 'X' chromosome makes us very susceptible to a lot of things. The vast majority of women never have to deal with male-pattern baldness, colorblindness, hemophila, all 100x more likely in men than women.
- The prostate exam. It doesn't get much more unpleasent than this.
- Draft. Women will never be required to fight in a war. This is far scarier today than it was four years ago.

Men (pluses):
- Male stereotypes: Let them play the game, boys will be boys. A certain amount of leeway is given where destruction is concerned.
- Physical attributes: In general, it has been evolutionarily true that males are stronger, faster, and taller than females.
- Sexual promiscuity: If a woman sleeps with three guys in a week, she's a slut. If a guy sleeps with three women in a week, he's a hero.

Men (conclusion): The other side of the coin, I think there are more problems with being male than most people give credit for. The pluses, on the other hand, have been banged into everyone's head since the beginning of time.


FINAL CONCLUSION: So what do we come out of this with? Ah-ha. I would normally say this is a pretty even match. However, there is one element that has been overlooked, the ultimate wildcard, the one element that does indeed mean that IT IS BETTER TO BE MALE THAN FEMALE! I present you:

Men (pluses):
- Can pee standing up.

I have talked to more women who state that this is their biggest lament. Not pregnancy, not physical attributes, not even the once a month drag, but the inability to pee standing up is infuriating. It's so easy! The woods, the fields, just 'zip' and there you go!
In conclusion, women do not, Mr. Freud, have penis envy. They have pee envy.

I don't allow comments on my blog, but I would love to hear thoughts on the matter - from both genders - if I left off pluses or minuses for either side. Maybe I'll publish a collection of thoughts on the matter. You know where to find me.

Small Earthquake

(breeze coming through)

Today I arrived at work at 8 AM. I proclaim, if not health, normalcy. And that means the blog is back on schedule! I've had it with this sickness... and missed days of blogging. I've come to like this thing.

Congratulations to the Patriots. Love or hate, for them to win three Super Bowls in four years in the salary cap era is utterly amazing. And they've done it from the day in 2001 when the Rams had all the fireworks going off as they announced all their star players as part of "The Greatest Show on Turf"... and the Patriots chose to be announced as a team. No individual accolades. One for all and all for one. And it's worked.
Besides, it was a great game. Philly put up a major fight. They'll be a force again next year - though hopefully not as much of one as the Steelers will be.
The Super Bowl also marks the beginning of the dreaded black hole of Pittsburgh sports. This city has, is, and always will be a football town, but whenever the Steelers are done playing, Mellon Arena is rocking during Penguins games. But with the NHL lockout, there's... nothing. All I can look forward to is the Pirates spring training in April??
I know I've lamented about this before, but really, this is a dire situation.

Yesterday I got to have a great writing conference with Martin, who gave me a number of ideas about magic. My magic system has a small but annoying hole in its logic regarding blocking, and I needed to hash out some ideas about what was feasible and what wasn't. Some interesting theories were proposed, including the idea of magical injury. Then I got to talk to Margaret over IM, who took the discussion one step farther and suggested that for blocks to only have 'one setting' was disanalogous (I think that's a word) to the rest of the system. Intriguing ideas. My muse will be working on this heavily.

Julie is coming up this weekend for Valentine's Day. I am happy and wary at the same time, as a number of my friends have suddenly had problems of the women variety recently. In a discussion with one of them, I brought up a Calvin and Hobbes comic which I think just about sums up the entire relations between the genders. Calvin has built a duplicator that creates a copy of himself, but it's only a copy of his good side. So he has his good side duplicate clean up his room, go to school, do his chores, etc. What he doesn't realize is that Calvin's duplicate also has a crush on Susie next door, and starts writing her love notes. He takes them over to Susie, and Susie - thinking this is Calvin - takes them as sarcasm and kicks him out. Meanwhile Calvin hears from Hobbes that the duplicate has left to give Susie love notes and he's stunned - his reputation is at stake - and sprints over to Susie's house to stop him.

Calvin: (knock knock)
Susie: You again?
Calvin(frowning): Uh oh. Was I here before?
Susie: What? Of course you were!
Calvin: Uh oh. I'm not still here, am I?
Susie: YOU'RE STANDING RIGHT THERE!
Calvin: WELL ANYONE CAN SEE THAT! AM I HERE ANYWHERE ELSE?!?
Susie's door: (slam)
Calvin(walking away): Sheesh. Who can fathom the female mind?
Hobbes: I like 'em anyway.


God must be laughing himself sick up there at his results of his two gender decision. Priceless entertainment.

It Puts The Lotion In The Basket

(or else it gets the hose again)

The tale of womanly strangeness continues.

So last night I came home from work, opened the door, and Julie handed me a glass of wine. "Here you go," she said, before I even got to take off my backpack or coat. "And your dinner is ready too," she added, reaching behind her and holding a plate of steaming hot chicken, broccoli, and rice. Steam was literally rising off of the food. It was like something out of the movies, it was so perfect. What made it all the more amazing was that she made it in what I would describe as - and this is as kindly as it can be put - absolute squalor. The tsunami that killed 80,000+ and took out half of South Asia? I think it originated from my room. It is the worst its ever been, by far, and somehow Julie managed to come up with this meal despite me not having a clean plate, glass, one pot and no cookie sheets, which makes me really impressed that she also somehow baked chocolate chip cookies. It was like something out of 1950. Absolutely incredible.
So I put on some nice background music - which ended up going into Final Fantasy Piano list, go figure - and we had a fantastic meal. The kicker - the wine was a Chianti. Now I never have seen the word spelled, so I was reading it going, "What wine is this?" I'm not a big alcohol drinker, and while I like wine - particularly for its artery-clearing effects - the tannens in cabernet sauvignon tend to give me a distant but noticeable headache (not unpleasant, but still not wild). But this wine had none of those effects. I was trying to pronounce it out loud, and all of the sudden it hit me and I said, "I ate his liver!"
Julie: "...What?"
Mat: "With some fava beans, and a nice Chianti."
Julie: "........"
Mat: "SPHPHPFTFPHTFPHT"
Which is the best way I could spell the quote from Silence of the Lambs. But it's all I could think about for the remainder of the dinner.
In short, it was absolutely incredible. Yet another reason I can't just totally dismiss Julie or her faults. She can occasionally do things people would kill for, she can occasionally do things people would kill her for, and the truth is somewhere in the middle.
Women: Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em, curse you Truth!
Right now - and for the foreseeable future - inexclusivity is exactly what is needed, so we can both figure out what we want. But seeing each other has been good. It has really improved my holiday. As they say, who knows what tomorrow will bring, but enjoy today.

On top of this work is a blast because I've been listening to the 'Yings and Yangs' CD that Jess gave me for Christmas. It just came in the mail and it ROCKS. There's not a single bad song on a 16-track CD, and it's split right down the middle of songs I know and songs I don't. Perfect. The choice of songs seem thought out as well, and the songs seem especially meaningful in their order. (The CD includes favorities of mine 'Mary Jane's Last Dance' by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, 'Another Brick In the Wall Part 2' by Pink Floyd, and 'Hotel California' by the Eagles, songs I've heard and liked but never owned like 'Lady' by Lenny Kravitz and 'This Love' by Maroon 5, and songs I've never heard but absolutely love like 'She Will Be Loved' by Maroon 5, 'No One But You' by Unknown, and 'Mad World' by Gary Jules.) Interspersing this CD with my crazy, enigmatic CD folder of choices (prior this was AFI - Sing the Sorrow) and work is just flying along.
I'll have to send my present back her way pronto!

Assisting this is the fact that DW wrote a great post about his 2004 year. I wish I could remember what happened to me last week, much less over the last year... my memory is such a blur. This blog is merely stemming the bleeding.

Lastly, I should be seeing Martin and Margaret soon (if Martin ever gets back from Vegas), Barb could be stopping by on the way back to Philly, the guys are coming down for a weekend bonanza of sports, poker, and camaraderie, and the Steelers are already guaranteed a first-round bye in the playoffs!

The year is ending on a good note :)

Tomorrow: The Insane Awards of 2004, as promised a week ago.


'Mad World' (with changes)
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
When they feel the way that every child should
sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
no one knew me, no one knew me
Hello Teacher tell me what's my purpose
look right through me, you looked right through me

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
it's a very very... mad world

All around me are familiar faces
worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
going nowhere, you're going nowhere
The tears are filling up their glasses
no expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
no tomorrow, there's no tomorrow

Time Out

(my Balrog wants some Gatorade)

And for all those who sent an IM and recognized the previous entry's reference - two points for you! Smock smock smock.

After a fun day before, last night was rough with Julie. She's been worrying about how to spend New Year's Eve, her options being Maria and I. Personally, I've never really seen New Year's Eve as a major romantic holiday, so I said not to ruin her years of tradition with Maria to spend it with me. She was very divided and on edge about it, and when she worries she can't think of anything else, which made for a very difficult dinner. It was not good. Sigh. So confusing. Perhaps I'll become a hermit-nun.

After looking like I had no free time for weeks in early January, plans are being moved around like so many Legos. People are coming late, coming early, not coming at all, coming without being invited, etc, etc. And everyone's from out of town, even my family, who is currently up at Chautauqua snowmobiling while I work away. I'm convinced there's only two people left who haven't left the city at some point.

Tonight my goal is to beat Sonic 2. I once beat it at Lawrence Purpura's house when I was about 11, and it was a stunning accomplishment because we had spent the better part of a year attempting to beat the game. It was tough. Now, a decade later, I'm remembering all the crazy zones and the music and everything. The background to the Casino Night Zone has been going through my head all morning. Let me tell you how helpful that is to writing code.

Overall, not much going on. A slow day and entry. Hopefully it's better tomorrow.