A long time ago, I used to buy cheap things. I bought discount computer parts, used free anything that was free, rented movies and copied them.

Slowly but surely, I learned the veritable lesson that you get what you pay for.

Now I only buy trusted name hardware and software. Yet I install an HP scanner and Microsoft Windows XP crashes. My problems with my own computers are so well documented as to be nearly legendary among my friends, despite the fact I purchase quality parts.

Right now, I want to know why when I pay four different services (Everyone's Internet, Hostik, and Bigfoot, Cingular) for email, the only service that is presently working right is my free Yahoo account. I want to know why, when I pay Bigfoot $36 a year for their distribution services, once every couple months it goes down for a week without letting me know that it's not working right. I want to know why EV1 periodically rejects Bigfoot without informing me. I want to know why Hostik has decided, without asking me, that Bigfoot is a spammer and thus all of my email that goes through it (95%) is thus rejected. I want to know why my cell phone refuses to validate my Bigfoot email so the only way I was able to get email on my phone was by creating a mock Hostik account set to forward to it.

I want to know why I, who holds a Bachelor's in Information Systems of Technology and has four years of industry experience, can't apply for a job that seriously interests me because I do not have an appropriate email address.

UPDATE: Okay, so now I want to know why, within 5 minutes of posting this, everything begins working perfectly again.

I did not write this in haste. My email has been flicking back to people for four or five days now. Ask Kevin or Heidi.

Sunday

I felt sick when I got back from Pflugerville. I didn't realize how bad it was when I took a couple pictures of myself (I'm not that vain, I just have a definite lack of things to take pictures of). The bags under my eyes were dreadful, but unfortunately not unusual. They are, I've found out, a product of blood getting built-up due to bad flow. Most commonly associated with allergies, there were primarily a product of poor oxygen flow.

Funny thing about when I'm smoking. I literally forget to breathe. Temporarily, anyway, until I gasp to catch up. The thought occured to me that such things cannot be good for the body.

A couple days earlier, I mentioned to a coworker that I used to never get sick. It's true. Adam and I had this thing going that neither of us ever got sick, so we were part of The New Breed... of... err... something. He gets struck with allergies pretty bad these days and while I almost never miss work solely due to illness (two days in four years, food poisoning in both cases, and despite the food poisoning I still turned in half-days at work), I very often have the sniffles or... well something that I never had before I started smoking.

So I made a list of pros and cons:

Pros	Cons
Makes the commute to work easier gives me something to do when I'm waiting for something Makes the live music scene more complete Helps food settle after I've eaten Helps me meet people Passes time Keeps me awake when I'm tired	this shit kills Get sick This shit kills degrades appearence This shit kills Smells bad This shit kills Disapproval of acquaintances This shit kills I plan to quit anyway This shit kills Disrupts sleep This shit kills

So that was a pretty obvious decision.

I looked at my room, which was in disarray. I looked at my stomach, though not as hefty as I was a couple years ago, was still too large

As readers of NLJ know, I've been re-evaluating my life on many fronts. A lot of it is personal and areas that I'm not sure what the answers were. In these cases, it was obvious: I needed to get my act together. I needed to eat healthier, stop smoking, and clean up.

So I drafted up a plan. In five or nine weeks, I would accomplish all these things. Just in time for when I move to wherever it is I'm moving (we're not renewing our lease, I may be getting my own place, or I may move out of Houston). There were three big things I knew that would require the most changes to my day to day life: Stop eating fatty and unhealthy foods, stop drinking coke, and stop smoking. I figured the smoking would be intermittent and would probably be the last thing. In fact, it kind of needed to be the last thing because if I wasn't already eating healthy, I'd gain weight and have that much more to catch up on. So I figured I'd stop eating unhealthy first (the easiest of the sacrifices, actually). Then I'd stop drinking coke. Intermittendly, I'd be phasing out my smoking, one step at a time.

One step at a time?

The thing about my smoking is that I don't smoke out of a craving. In fact, I don't really crave them all that much at all, except in certain instances. It was more of a habitual addiction, if an addiction at all. So I listed off when I smoke.

When I Smoke

When driving When on break at work When I need to stay awake When I write When I go to clubs When with other smokers When I am in deep thought

So I'd eliminate them one step at a time. First, I'd stop smoking after 8pm so it would stop disrupting my sleep. I'd start doing that immediately, I thought, as I was smoking outside outside at 11pm. In a week, I'd stop smoking in the car. In two weeks, I'd stop smoking at work. Three to five weeks, I'd eliminate the rest. Except possibly clubs, which remains a possible exception if I can manage to smoke there and nowhere else.

Then I went to bed

Monday

Funny thing happened on Monday morning. I felt like shit. I mean, I felt bad. Really, really bad. Thinking it through, between the driving (Reason #1) and deep thought (Reason #7), I'd gone through two packs Sunday (I rarely smoke a pack on any given day, usually less). I forgot to take the cigs with me to work. I started to pull into the convenience store, but I realized that if there was one thing I didn't want or need, it was a cigarette. Instead of smoking on the drive up to work, I thought about what I was going to do.

The answer was obvious: Cold turkey.

Of course, if I quit smoking I'd also have to step everything else up, too, so that I don't gain weight from this venture (which could, in turn, be used as an excuse to lapse to lose the weight back). There were a lot of things I'd planned to do before quitting that I hadn't been able to: Get some water around the apartment, clean the car out, get some toothpicks or something to keep my mouth busy (that's what my mom, who virtually quit smoking, did), and get some gum to "clean my mouth out" (the great thing about cigarettes is that they get any food taste out of your mouth so you're not hungry for more, but sugarless gum does the same).

The hardest part was during my breaks. Twice a day, fifteen minutes, nothing to do. I needed the break so my mind could refresh. My boss was watching me very closely all day, so I couldn't post much of anything online nor could I surf (such things are forbidden, even on break). No music, either. The longest fifteen minutes in the history of mankind that were not the last fifteen minutes of some sports contest.

Monday night, I drew up the rest of my plans, made a shopping list, ceremonially threw out my remaining cigarettes and lighters, and went to bed.

Tuesday

Tuesday was when it hit me. Not any cravings, but sleepiness, and there was nothing I could do about it! My usual remedies, Mountain Dew and cigarettes, were off-limits. I managed to stay awake during the day, albeit barely. The fact that my boss was riding my tail all day surely helped. When I got home (an hour early), though, I was toast. The timing was pretty bad, as I had a date that night. I called her up with the intent to put it off a night if possible, but she excitedly asked if she should wear anything in particular. I didn't have the heart to cancel. I told her that I'd need to push it back a couple hours so I could get a nap and she was cool with that.

And nap I did.

The alarm got me up at 7. I saw her online as I was about to hop in the shower. She had some unfortunate news. Her mom (who is in poor health) had to take another trip to the hospital, so she had to cancel.

Whew.

Back to sleep I went. All. Night. Long. 15.5 hours in all.

Wednesday

But sonovabitch, I was still sleepy. Still nothing to help me gain any energy. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. All those nights I'd used nicotene to keep the sandman away - and those nights were many, especially a couple weeks ago when I was at work for two 24 hour shifts -- had made him angry and vengeful. The sandman was back and there was hell to pay.

I put it off as long as I could, talking to Ora about it. She mentioned that when she was struck with bouts of needing excessive sleep, she used diet pills. I didn't have any of the prescriptions that she did, but it did remind me of something. When I was dieting in college, Metabolife used to give me insomnia. It was, in fact, a rather ferocious energy booster. So I added Metabolife to my shopping list.

The other striking thing was the headaches. I'd stopped cold turkey a couple times before, usually for a week or two just to prove to myself that I wasn't addicted, and I'd not had headaches like this. My head usually didn't like it, but these headaches were rather fierce. The most remarkable thing about them was their swiftness. They'd come out of nowhere, but before I could do anything about it, they'd go away. Then they'd come back, and the process would just keep repeating itself.

I took a trip to the convenience store to knock off the things on my list. You'd be amazed how difficult it is to find toothpics. I never did find the real wood kind and sadly had to make due with some blastic "brushpicks" that more or less did the job. I also bought my Metabolife and some healthy food.

I paid about 13 hours of hell that night with periodic disruptions of sugar cravings. That was more of a product of coke withdrawal than anything else, though. In the past, it's been so bad that I will wake up in the middle of the night, drink a Pepsi or Mountain Dew and then go right back to bed. I had to make due with orange juice, which had enough sugars to allow me to get right back to sleep.

Thursday

My boss continues his tradition of riding my tail. The Metabolife does its job. The headaches receeded Except on my boss's orders I had to rearrange my office (again!), which by the end my headache stock had risen and my energy one severely lowered. The other curious thing was that I'd been chewing so much gum that my jaw was sore.

Friday

I went to the Firehouse that evening and successfully did not smoke. First time in many months where that happened. Despite my sore jaw, I found the energy to chew gum on the drive down to Clear Lake to keep me awake.

Saturday

I don't let my parents in on my little secret. I steal one of my mom's wooden toothpicks, thinking what an improvement it'll be over my little plastic thingies that keep getting all bent up. I was wrong about that. I chewed up the wooden toothpick in under five minutes. The remains will be pictured above with all the other substances that have kept me going.

I napped all afternoon. I'm going to bed shortly.

Conclusion

My belief that I am not physically addicted seems true in one way, false in another. My body is obviously reacting adversely to the quitting, which means that it had grown dependent. What's strange, though, is that I've not had a single craving. Not like I've had cravings for sugar and soft drinks. The biggest thing is the constant exhaustion.I've come to the odd conclusion that quitting smoking is going to cost me more money than smoking did. At this point, without the cigarette breaks, my mental endurance at work is in freefall. This would be fixed if I could do other things on my break at work, but since I can't do anything on the computer, I can't take a mental break from what I'm doing, and whereas before 5:00 came and went, now I'm pooped when it's done. Less overtime means less money. A lot less money than cigarettes costed.

TPB commented that his clients would kill him if he stopped smoking and I'm left to assume that's what he meant. I used to say that smoking is the dumbest habit on the face of the earth. Everything gives you something (alcohol drunkenness, drugs a high) except cigarettes. Well, apparently they gave me the ability to keep working longer. The extent to which they did that are only now becoming clear to me.

The other thing that I'm worried about is writing. I haven't tried to write in the past week and I'm not sure how it will go. It's amazing how many ideas I've come up with on my patio, smoking and thinking about the plot of whatever story I'm writing. I'm going to have to completely redesign the way that I write now. Where are my ideas going to come from?

In any case, I'm still going strong. They say habits are broken and formed in 21 days. Considering how much of my routine I'm uprooting as I do this, I wonder what my life will be like by then?

There's a box full of crackers downstairs. On the box is a little red square with the following written in it:

LOW CHOLESTEROL!
LOW SATURATED FAT!
(see nutritional graph label for sodium content)

...

"Okay, class, I graded your tests."
"Did I pass, Mrs. Henderson?"
"Sure did, Billy!"
"Did I pass, Miss H?"
"Absolutely, Bobby!"
"Did I pass, Mrs. Hendysin?"
"I'll talk to you about it after class, Mark."

"You damn well know what I mean."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm just being a jackass."
"And this is a new thing for you?"
"Well, no, but the way I see it I'm a jackass and you're a heartless bitch and that's what works about us."
"I'm a what?!"
"Ahem, fifteen minutes ago."
"Oh yeah. Okay, you're right. Jackass."
"Bitch."

When processing reports, I periodically run in to a problem where it?ll send alternating reports to a computer other than the default. At first I thought it was something wacky I accidentally did with the Invoicing reports, but on closer inspection that appeared not to be the case as it happened again with the revised Morning Report list. I opened up the dialogue box and finally saw the error message and presumably the reason why it won?t send itself to the right printer.

One problem

The text outstrips the stupid label box field that displays it!

Meaning that I know there is a problem and it knows what the problem is, but it can?t tell me!

Arrrrrh!!!

Congratulations to TPB, Esq.

I've been smoke free since Sunday night.

That's only part of the answer, though. I've also not had more than 1 coke a day and haven't eaten any fatty or fast foods.

I'd love to explain more, but I gotta get going to work, and it's going to be a long one. Full story this weekend, I promise.

In between naps.

This will be the last post of the day, so of course it will be a teaser of sorts. This has been the second most interesting week of the year:

1) I've been averaging over 12 hours of sleep a night, but am always tired. In fact, I had to fight off going to sleep last night till about 10, when I couldn't fight it anymore.

2) I spent half an hour yesterday desperately searching for toothpicks.

3) The headaches came as I expected they would. Not normal headaches like I thought, though. Rather, they come in a flash, hurt like hell, and sometime before I can even open the aspirin bottle, they're gone.

4) Ora and I had a very relevent discussion on the ins and outs of abusing diet pills.

5) I marveled at how Metabolife, this once great giant in appetite suppressants and "dietary supplements" has become yesterday's snake oil, relegated to two small shelfs in the back of the pharmacy.

6) I bought the Metabolife anyway. It seems to be working.

7) I am hungry again for the first time in weeks. At this rate, my stomach will begin to growl soon.

8) I drank a half gallon of orange juice between going to bed last night and waking up this morning. Can't do that again. I'll make sure it's diet coke tomorrow.

9) My jaw is unbelievably tired.

10) With any luck, when I get home tonight, I won't go straight to bed... I'll just end up sleeping all weekend long.

11) At least twice a day, every day, 15 minutes seems like an eternity.

New 12) I have had a non-stop fever all week.

Anyone want to take a stab as to what is going on?

(Answer tomorrow, I'm going to be hard-pressed to get everything done and when I get home, there's a good chance I'm going straight to bed.)

UPDATE: Let me clarify something. I know what's going on. I'm curious to see if you guys can figure it out. I'll give a brief answer tomorrow and then a full one over the weekend, in between naps, of course.

"You know the world is off tilt, when the best rapper is a white guy, the best golfer is a black guy, the tallest basketball player is Chinese, and Germany doesn't want to go to war." -Charles Barkley

It reminds me of an episode of Sliders. For those of you who don't remember that series, Jerry O'Connell and friends were stuck exploring alternate realities and couldn't get back home. It was a high-tech Gilligan's island, in a way, without the interesting clothes and with better special effects. In the episode to which I refer, they finally get back home into the real world... except they're not sure if they're home or not. They pick up a newspaper and are stunned by what it has to say...

"O.J. Simpson, murder defendant?!"

"Cleveland Indians in the World Series?!"

"Dammit. We must not be in the real world."

And off they go...

Q: What was the last large military operation the US has undertaken that critics did not liberally compare to the Vietnam war?

A: The Vietnam War.

Sometimes it feels like Vietnam is analogous to some to that one ex-girlfriend or most hurtful rejection that we've all had that we just can't quite get over. We meet someone new and instinctively compare and contrast them to the original heartbreaker. No matter how many successful relationships we have, we continually re-live that dead one and the pain it caused.

To be sure, there may be some similarities between Iraq and Vietnam. Iraq will likely end up with us fighting guerillas to one extent or another. Both will involve civilian casualties. Both take place half the world away.

In my analogy above, that's the equivalent of saying "She has dark hair, a vagina, and soft skin just like Judy, so she'll probably break my heart, too!"

Personally, I thought that Afghanistan would take a lot longer than it did. I also think the parallels between Kosovo and Vietnam are greater than Iraq and Vietnam, both Serbia and Vietnam having been in the thrusts of civil war. Similarities aside, however, the outcomes were not remotely the same because our military was not the same. Our tactics are not the same. The terrain is not the same. The enemy is not the same. And it hasn't actually been the same as Vietnam since the war.

None of this is to say that I know Iraq will not become a long, bloody, drawn out affair. It might, it might not. No matter what happens, though, we're not forever doomed to be that pimply-faced kid that Judy rejected. In spheres where confidence matters, it's important that we remember that.

For the record, and for a variety of reasons, I have been a supporter of the invasion for some time. I've been debating it endlessly with all kinds of people for nearly a year now It's something that I feel strongly about. Call me a jingo or bloodthirsty or racist or any plethora of names, my position will not change for it. There are people who advocate my position who are all these things. I am not those things, and people like me constitute the majority.

On the other side of the debate are many, many people that hold our country in the highest regard. They will shout about how wrong this war is morally, practically, or both. They will be accused of coddling a dictator, of being oblivious to Hussein's tyranny, and being unpatriotic, but their position will not change because of that. There are people who advocate their position that are those things, and a majority are not.

Dixie Chicks frontwoman Natalie Maines proclaimed on foreign soil that this war (and our president) made her ashamed to be from Texas. In response, people are destroying their CD's and coming up with cute names like Vichy Chicks. Oklahoma Red Dirt band Great Divide's egroup has been hijacked by a political debate In Chicago, there were competing demonstrations, one side screaming "killers" and the other screaming "idiots." people are holding up signs suggesting that they only support our troops if they are killing their superiors. Or maybe that's a photoshop image mocking the extremity of many of the protesters. Tit-for-tat, does it really matter anymore?

It's difficult to agree to disagree when thousands of lives hang in the balance. Though roughly 2/3 of the American population agree with my position, I'd say maybe 1/5 of the people I would call my friends do. I rarely bring up politics with my largely liberal and Naderite friends and they know better than to do the same. As the images come back from Iraq, that becomes increasingly difficult. My old flame Ora brought up current events for the first time in years, proclaiming that Baghdad "has been levelled" and she predicted thousands of casualties. Our strike was amazingly surgical and most of Baghdad stands with a maximum of a couple hundred casualties from the strike. But when it's a war that you're against and you see as being about oil of Bush's 2004 re-election bid, those aren't 300 deaths of "unfortunate collateral damage"... it's tantamount to 300 murders. If it's a war that you're ardently in favor of, the bloated casualty estimations are more than a mistake, they're buying into a deliberate attempt by many of our enemies to undermine an effort that is essential to our long-term national security.

What's becoming increasingly tragic about all this is that all of our arguments and debates are irrelevent. The decision has been made. The soldiers have been deployed. Liberals that post up pictures of smoke above Baghdad and smugly proclaim this to be Bush's legacy are not doing anybody, or any cause, any good. The war is on. It is now definitely in Iraq's best interest that Hussein fall quickly. The more resistence we're met with, the more of Baghdad will be leveled. If this is about oil or Bush's approval numbers, nothing changes that simple fact. Conservative that write odious books about how liberalism is treason and dissent tears at the fabric of our nation and those that self-righteously read and cite such filth need to let it go. We've got our war. Our opinions of one another and the opposing viewpoints... indeed, our opinions on the war itself no longer matter, if they ever really did.

What matters is that we are at war, whether we like it or not. There is nothing wrong with expression our support or sorrow on this point. A patriotic song here or a protest song there keep us involved and keep the discussion of who we are as Americans and what we want to be. They can be productive. Ankle-biting our military's effort, proclaiming us a nation of terrorists or a nation gone soft and afraid to do what "really needs to be done" over there don't. Stressing, for the thirty-second time, why we are for or against the war with someone who damn well knows we disagree does nothing but make each other angrier and increasingly embittered. Good and honest people disagree. People you love dearly disagree. Intelligent people, loving people, and people that only want the best for our country all disagree.

It's natural for pro-war people to want to get others to understand what we're fighting for and what we're up against. It's natural for anti-war people to want people to understand how fundamentally wrong this war is and how we need to get out. At the end of the day, though, it doesn't matter what we think. There was a time for debate and that time, in my view, has passed. In years to come, if things go well, I may have nightmares about supporting this war. Or perhaps, of things go poorly, people against the war will see that America seized a unique opportunity to provide the long-trouble Persian Gulf with its second democracy and they'll wonder what they will so worried about. I don't say this because I have doubts about my view or because I believe people on the other side are in for a giant "I told you so."

The thing is that I don't know, and neither do you. Months from now, if we're still scouring Baghdad and fighting Republican Guard guerillas, we'll have to talk about what to do.

For my part, a couple nights ago I sent off an email to a friend replying to something she'd posted on the war. I corrected someone on a minor technical error they'd made in their anti-war LiveJournal post. I was wrong in both instances. Now isn't the time to "set the record straight" or refute ill-concieved points for or against. Right now, the war is less than a week old, and it's time to hope, or pray, for the best. There will be time later to discuss the merits of contemporary liberalism or conservatism and to set the record straight later, when our POW's are not on television and our soldiers aren't freshly under fire.

I will continue to discuss the war in friendly company and places reserved for political debate. I will not insert it into my relationships or into forums surrounding the arts. We've reached the point where making points to people who've made up their mind in the opposite direction is merely picking a pointless, embittering personal fight. Somehow, we have to find a way to agree to disagree and go from there, even though this is as life and death. Because it is.

Please feel free to comment with your thoughts, though I ask you not to make points for or against the war. I have tried to be even-handed with this post, but if you feel that I haven't, please email me privately and I will try to rectify any unintented digs in this post.

we got a call to write a song about the war in the gulf
but we shouldn't hurt anyone's feelings
so we tried but gave up 'cause there was no such song
but the trying was very revealing
what makes a person so poisonous righteous
that they think less of anyone who just disagrees
she's just a pacifist
he's just a patriot
if i said you were crazy, would you have to fight me?
fighters for liberty
fighters for power
fighters for longer turns in the shower
and history seems to agree that I would fight you for me

so we read and we a watched all the specially selected news
and we learned so much more about the good guys

won't you stand by the flag was the question unasked
won't you stand by and fight for the allies
what can we say? we'e only twenty five years old
with 25 sweet summers, and hot fires in the cold
this kind of life makes that violence unthinkable
we'd like to play hockey, have kids and grow old

fighters for texaco
fighters for power
fighters for longer turns in the shower

don't tell me i can't fight cause i'll punch out your lights
and history seems to agree that i would fight you for me
that us would fight them for we

he's just a peacenik and she's just a warhawk
that's where the beach was, that's just the sea
what could we say we're only twenty-five years old
and history seems to agree that i would fight you for me
that us would fight them for we
is that how it always will be?

Phenomena: See here.

Hypothesis: My fellow Texans will not announce the "P" cause they're just not that stupid. They probably will find a way to mispronounce it, though.

Experiment: I will drive up and down one Pflugerville Rd. and ask various people the name of the road. This would be less conspicuous than asking what town I am in while giving me the opportunity to see how exactly they pronounce the town's name, assuming they pronounce the name and road the same way (possible future experiment: find out!). I asked a total of 15 clerks at various establishments. While I could not get exact data, what I surmised is the following: 10 women, 5 men. 8 between the ages of 18-30, 4 between the ages of 30-50, 3 above 50. 10 white, 4 Hispanic, 1 black.

Result: 12 of the 15 clerks did, in fact, pronounce Pflugerville correctly. 3 pronounced it "Fluggerville."

Ancillary Results and Observations: Pflugervillian establishments thing it's really pfun to put the pfraggin "p" in pfront of every word that begins with "f". It's really cute, pfor about pfive minutes. On another note, 5 of the 12 that pronounced it correctly actuall closed their lips despite the fact that the "f" sound is made with the teeth against the lips, as opposed to the "p" which does. In other words, they conscientiously aligned their lips to make the "p" sound that they knew they weren't supposed to make.

Repeat: No, thanks.

Conclusions: I lead such a fabulous life.

What they said: (you don't have to read it all, just take notice of the length and the complete absense of I-35.

1	RD	0.9
2	Turn Right on N ELDRIDGE PKY	1.7
3	Turn Left on US-290 W	0.3
4	Take the US-290 WEST ramp	0.1
5	Merge on US-290 WEST	39
6	Continue on US-290 WEST/US-290 E	11
7	Continue on US-290 WEST	4.1
8	Continue towards US-290 WEST/AUSTIN	0.2
9	Bear Right on US-290 WEST/US-290-BR WEST	0.1
10	Continue on US-290 WEST	0
11	Continue on US-290 WEST/US-290 W	10
12	Continue on US-290 WEST	30
13	Continue on US-290 WEST/US-290 E	21
14	Continue on US-290 WEST	3.5
15	Continue on US-290 WEST/US-290 E	8.8
16	Turn Right on GREGG MANOR RD	4.1
17	Turn Right on CAMERON RD	1.7
18	Continue on PECAN ST E/PFLUGERVILLE EAST RD	2.7
19	Continue on PECAN ST E	0.3
20	Continue on E PECAN ST/PECAN ST E	0.1
21	Continue on PECAN ST E	0.1
22	Continue on PECAN ST W	0.2
23	Continue on PECAN ST W/W PECAN ST	1.1
24	Turn Left on OLD AUSTIN-PFLUGERVILLE RD/OLD PFLUGERVILLE RD	0.2
25	Turn Right on HEATHERWILDE BLVD	1.1
26	Turn Right on WELLS BRANCH PKY W	0.5
27	Turn Right on DRUSILLA'S DR	0.1

What they damn well should have said:

1	Start eastbound on SPENCER RD	a bit
2	Turn left onto US-290 Feeder	a bit
3	Get on US-290 W	long ass way
4	Stay on US-290 despite some weird shiznit	more long ass way
5	Take interchange to I-35N	a ways
6	Take WELLS BRANCH PKWY Exit	a bit
7	Turn Right on WELLS BRANCH PKWY W	not so long
8	Turn Left on DRUSCILLA'S DR	a bit

I'm going up to a town called Pflugerville.

Whereas, Pflugerville begins with a PF and in the English (as well as German) language a pf makes for a silent p,

Whereas, the Pflugerville is located in Texas, a bit north of Austin,

Whereas, Texans are notorious for pronouncing things incorrectly, such as debicle for debacle and inchiladis for enchiladas,

Whereas, I have no lyfe (tm),

Resolved, I will go to Pflugerville and investigate as to whether or not they attempt to announce the "P" in front of the town's name (and, for that matter, the "e" at the end and if they keep the "u" as a long sounding vowel). So is it Fleugervill, Fluggervill, PuhFluggervilly, or some variation of the above.

I know you're all just dying to know...

[Originally posted on the No-Lyfe Journal]



In popular entertainment, there are very often scenes with a man and a woman arguing. Ferociously. Violently. Then, at the height ot the emotional battle, they'll kiss. It works that way for some people. The arguments enflame their passions which get redirected from animosity to amorousness.

I don't work that way.

When confronted with an argument, I prefer to defuse the situation as quickly as possible. Naturally, grievances must be addressed, but there is seldom any joy in it for me. My mind is always distracted on the best way to remediate the situation, not about how right I am, how wrong she is, and how cute she is when she's mad. Fighting is a part of any relationship, but it's not something to be liberally tossed in merely to spice things up. There are playful fights of course, and those can be fun, but you can't couch real issues and real disagreements in playfulness. Arguments are like salt that way. Rubbing salt on skin feels fine, provided the the skin is healthy. If there is a wound, however, or a scintilla of heartfelt dissatisfaction with the behavior and traits of the sparring partner, you're no longer rubbing salt on skin, but rather onto a wound, and that never makes it better.

Cathy and I'd had this argument before. We'd been together for a very short, but turbulent, period of time. At a pivotal moment in the conversation, I was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, talking to her on the phone, and analyzing the precise point of disagreement so that it might be addressed. Tempers were running a little higher than normal and I knew nothing more productive could have been said. I needed to get out of the conversation, regroup my thoughts, and confront the issue later. My mind sometimes works on time delay -- yet another reason I don't get a thrill from arguing -- and often the words come to me 45 minutes or so later. So if I could just find a way to stall the argument, I could save the relationship.

Except that I didn't want to. This was not a relationship I wanted to save. This wasn't the reason it needed to end and the disagreement was, in the greater scheme of things, very minor. But to give this a pass would mean that I would need to confront much bigger issues down the line. However, she hadn't mentioned breaking up, and this wasn't an argument that I could break up over. It was stupid; it was minor. But it was here and I couldn't for the life of me think of a way to go about bringing up our real problems without just bringing them up to break up, and I had my opportunity right there. All I had to do was prolong the argument and break out the salt.

I did and within twenty minutes, we were no more.

That should have been the end of it. In a way, it was. I don't expect that I will ever speak to her again. I removed her from my AIM buddy list on my Trillian chat program. Trillian has a bug in it, however. Trillian handles account names locally (like ICQ), but AIM handles them remotely. To make a long story short, if you have Trillian installed on more than one computer (I have it on 6) and you log on to another computer that doesn't know the name has been deleted, it will see the name and automatically add it to your list. When I got to work the next day, her name was there again. When I got home, it re-added itself there, too. I delete it, it keeps readding itself.

Cathy is gone now, and that's all for the best. I'm certain she has no desire to speak to me again. But her name lingers on my Trillian list in the same way that the questions that she brought forth linger in my mind. It's been two weeks, and I've gotten very few answers. She and I seemed right for each other in a way that now seems illusory. It wasn't about her for me and me for her, but rather about each of us being what the other thought they needed. I'm certain that she's looking for that again elsewhere, and maybe she's found it. I view it as a void inside myself that she appeared to fill, but only in the way that others seemed to fill it with equally (or more) disastrous results. I'm happy being single. I've ended more relationships and near-relationships than I care to count because of that. But whatever it is that drew me to Cathy and Lisa (and Ora a long time ago) or allowed them to be drawn to me still exists. I will continue to draw, and be drawn by these destructive relationships and flings until I can confront what it is. Until I can figure out what it is.

My (sane) ex-girlfriend Anna suggested, as she always seems to, that I take a break from relationships. But I had more dating partners last year than I made (or kept) friends. I'm an independent person. Friends come and go, but I always have my writing and my solitary activities. I'm not sure that's enough anymore, but I've been (and embraced being) this way for so long, I don't know how to change it. Somehow, I've got to escape the safety of being alone and behind the safety of a keyboard and monitor. Before I can do that, I have to be comfortable with it. Before that, I've got to get answers, to do which I must get a better idea of what the questions are.

Wish me luck.

The End (and to be continued ad infinum)

Where Are They Now

	Lisa messaged me on Wednesday, as she did the week before and will likely do next week as well. She's aborted her plans to move to Florida and is looking to find someone locally. She still regularly confides in me about her utter sense of isolation and complete worthlessness.
	Cathy is still on my Trillian list, though we have not spoken since we broke up and are unlikely to begin. I told her that I wish her well. She did not reply.
	Ora and I talk online on an almost daily basis. She's been positively upbeat lately apparently having met someone new. She hasn't had any episodes (that she's come to me about) in almost a year.
	I've been keeping myself busy. I've been going out a lot and touching base with old friends. I've put off my fourth novel for a bit as I try to get my personal life in order.
	RIP, Walter Keith Coleman, Jr. 1979-2000

[Go Back To Start]

The Senate's defeat of ANWR represents a loss for US energy independence, though more a symbolic one than that of pure gallonage. There were two main areas of disagreement between the oilers and environmentalists.

1) How much oil is in the refuge: Environmentalists say little, supporters say a lot. From what I understand of the matter the environmentalists are probably correct insofar as the ANWR supporters have overoptomistic views of how much can be obtained. However, we know it's there. Oil drilling is generally a gamble. You set up a derrick and hope for the best, sometimes you find nothing and lose money, but when you win you win big. This was a sure thing for the oil companies and why they tried so hard for it, but in the greater scheme of things and the goal for US independence, it likely didn't mean much on its own. More on this later.

2) How much damage would it do to the environment: Oil companies have come a long way in recent years towards environmentally safe drilling. The National Academies of the Sciences released a report on the similar North Slope drilling, which produced few of the negative consequences feared by environmentalists. What damage was caused was not by the drilling itself, but rather by the necessary commodities of the employees working on the site. This means that a compromise could have been struck on restoring the area once the drilling had finished, but unfortunately the environmentalists were not interested in any compromise whatsoever.

That's unfortunate, because Gregg Easterbrook recommended one not so long ago in various publications. In exchanging ANWR drilling for tougher automotive standards, both sides could have achieved a victory and both environmental and energy concerns could have been met.

One of the more interesting aspects of the vote were the defectors. Many of which could have been predicted, but others could not have:

Republicans against:
Lincoln Chafee of Rhode Island,
Norm Coleman of Minnesota,
Susan Collins of Maine,
Olympia Snowe of Maine,
Mike DeWine of Ohio,
Peter Fitzgerald of Illinois,
John McCain of Arizona and
Gordon Smith of Oregon.

Democrats in favor:
Daniel Akaka of Hawaii,
Daniel Inouye of Hawaii,
John Breaux of Louisiana,
Mary Landrieu of Louisiana,
Zell Miller of Georgia.

I suppose Norm Coleman and Mary Landrieu got an opportunity to demonstrate the bipartisan credentials. I'm sure this will play well in Minnesota for Norm, though I'm still disappointed by his defection. Kudos to Landreiu, though, for following her fellow Louisianan's lead and supporting the worthwhile bill.

I have no idea why DeWine and Fitzgerald, two of the more conservative Republicans in the Senate, defected. Same goes for Akaka and Inouye, both from one of the most liberal states in the nation. Can anyone else draw a connection that would explain two Hawaiians voting for drilling in Alaska?

Owen Courreges agrees, Kris Lofgren does not.

[Full disclosure: The oil products company I work for manufactures tools for drilling on the Alaskan soft-ice and therefore had a stake in the Senate's vote. The company specializes in off-shore drilling and therefore ANWR's defeat benefits us indirectly. That said, an informal poll around the office represents near-unanimous support for the bill]

I've always been a proud Texan, if this passes it'll just make me moreso.

[Originally posted on the No-Lyfe Journal]



We were in an empty park somewhere. There was a gravel running track around a football field that was remarkably well maintained. There were bleachers, but only one little set on one side. He was there, wearing his characteristic black trench-coat, smoking a cigarette. His long hair covered much of his face.

We met here in a previous dream. I remember it vividly. It was such a haunting nightmare that I stayed awake for a couple days because I was literally afraid of going back to sleep. Eventually my body caught up with me and thankfully I had a different dream when I went back to sleep.

The Wallflowers are playing in the background. I don't know if that's part of the dream or external stimuli. Sometimes when something is playing on my mp3 list, it will find its way into the dream. In fact, it inserts itself into my dream somehow, kind of like this. It's possible that I'm only dreaming of him now because the Wallflowers are playing, or maybe they're playing inside the dream because he reminds me of this song.

I climb up the bleachers and sit beside him. He's wearing a Punisher t-shirt. In the hand opposite of me is a rifle. As long as he keeps it pointed to the ground, I'll be fine. I silently nod to the gun.

Pariah: You could poke an eye out with that.
Dark One: [mildly laughs] You're the one that put it here, Pariah. It's your dream.
Pariah: Pariah? No one calls me Pariah anymore. In fact, I think after we met and became friends, you started calling me Alex.
Dark One: So then why am I calling you Pariah in your own dream, if it makes you uncomfortable?
Pariah: I didn't say that it makes me uncomfortable, but maybe it does in a way.
Dark One: Why is that?
Pariah: I don't know. I guess that it was a part of me that I hoped to leave behind. I chose the Pariah nickname because when I had to pick one, I had self-esteem problems. It was a vocabulary word in a short story we were reading and it just seemed to fit. Last year I started looking to phase out the Pariah moniker because it didn't seem to fit anymore.
Dark One: And now?
Pariah: Now I guess it does a little. It's temporary, I guess.
Dark One: I never thought Pariah fit you. You were the most popular people I knew online. Even in person, you didn't seem like a Pariah like me a Dark One.

The Dark One moniker did fit him well, just as the Pariah one did me, once. Whereas I grew out of it, he continued to wear black and maintain an exceedingly dour and nihilistic view of life.

Pariah: Yeah, by the time we met, I was with Anna and succeeding in college and I didn't feel so outcast anymore. Like I said, that's changed, a little. I don't have the self-esteem problems that I used to, but I can't escape the notion that I have some of the same self-destructive tendencies, despite my keen eye for diagnosing them, some seem to have slipped through the cracks.
Dark One: [glares over at me] Perhaps you shouldn't have dumped Anna, then.
Pariah: That's not what I'm saying. It only tangentially has anything to do with women.
Dark One: So what does it have to do with, then?
Pariah: The way that I've been living. I guess I feel like Pariah in part because of that. I used to more or less exist online. That's how I met people and made friends. The Internet has replaced the BBS, but it's starting to feel that way again. Except now instead of my friends living in Katy or Spring, they live in San Marcos or Waco. I'm beginning to wonder if my ability to keep touch with everyone is starting to prevent me from meeting new people and then meeting... unfortunate... people when I do meet them.
Dark One: What's got you thinking this way?
Pariah: I met someone last weekend.
Dark One: A woman?
Pariah: Yes.
Dark One: But this isn't about a woman?
Pariah: Tangentially. Basically, things with this girl exploded so quickly and destructively that it's making me question everything about myself.
Dark One: It was that bad?
Pariah: Worse. By Saturday night, I thought that I'd met someone really special. I mean, it was amazing, or so I thought. By Sunday night, I was so distraught over it that I had to turn to Ora of all people for help.
Dark One: Ora? Ora Jones?
Pariah: Yeah.
Dark One: Holy shit.
Pariah: Exactly. I would have turned to anyone. I can't remember having felt that isolated in a while. Heh... so I turned to the most isolated person that I know. Maybe that's why she was able to help. Anyway, I just had to talk to someone. The questions were all hitting me faster than I could field them.
Dark One: Okay, fill me in on what happened first.
Pariah: I met a girl named Cathy. Things went great until I discovered that she suffers from some rather serious emotional problems, starting with depression and perhaps extending to bi-polarism or even worse.
Dark One: That's unfortunate.
Pariah: Yeah. What makes matters worse is that this is the second consecutive one. I still haven't shaken off my ex-girlfriend Lisa whose problems are even more severe. Two indicates the beginning of a trend. Not even an isolated trend. It's been off and on since Ora. Before her, probably.
Dark One: Oh, so this isn't about a woman, it's about multiple women?
Pariah: It's about why I feel a connection with people that have serious emotional problems. Not entirely, of course, because Anna didn't have these problems. Neither did Alicia or a handful of others. In the past when it's happened it's been because of something I've been doing and once I corrected it, I started meeting normal people.
Dark One: People with depression aren't lepers, Alex.
Pariah: I know that. I've dealt with people with depression before. You know that as much as anyone else. Hell, the BBS was a cesspool of trauma and heavily populated with people that had such problems. There's something about being behind the safety of a keyboard and monitor that attracts that sort of thing. The thing is... I can't deal with it anymore.
Dark One: So you're saying that if we'd met today, you wouldn't be my friend?
Pariah: I don't know. I do know that you and Ora are the big reasons I can't – or won't – do it anymore.
Dark One: Because we were that screwed up?
Pariah: No. Because... Do you remember Methuseleh?
Dark One: Yeah.
Pariah: One time when things with Ora and I were really, really bad, I told him that I didn't know how I'd be able to go on. Meth had this thing about random threats of suicide where he saw right through it. He was about the age that I am now I guess and he knew that we were all so young that we didn't really mean it. He told me “Fine then, if you're going to go kill yourself just do it. Don't ask for any pity because you're not going to get it from me.”
Dark One: That does seem like the sort of thing that he'd say.
Pariah: It was remarkably effective. Brought me right back down to Earth and confronting my problems more seriously because I knew I wasn't going to kill myself and that if I was going to live and these problems were going to be there, I'd have to learn how to deal with them. It was so effective that I used a variation of it whenever anyone else made the same idle threat. None of them were really going to do it. All I had to do was get them back on track to solve their problems like I did.
Dark One: I see.
Pariah: But then there was you. We'd lost touch for a couple months, which was odd because you were a best friend. You always were a nihilist. I knew that and it made our relationship all the more interesting because I was such an optimist... I never thought you'd do it, Keith. Not in a million years.
Dark One: I never thought you'd leave Anna.
Pariah: God damn it. Things change, Keith. Good relationships go bad and... when you're feeling down and out and at the end of the line, things get better! Things change and nothing is ever hopeless. Things can always change if you want it bad enough and... I just don't know what to do when people insist that they won't.
Dark One: Things don't always change, Alex. Never say to yourself things can't get worse because they always can.
Pariah: That's exactly what I can't deal with anymore. A couple years back Ora and I were talking almost every night online. On five separate occasions, she talked to me about wanting to end her life. I didn't know what to say, really. I didn't know what to do except that hope she wasn't serious and try to talk her down from the ledge.
Dark One: Knowing her, she probably wasn't serious.
Pariah: That's kind of what I thought. I even felt a little embarrassed for believing her. About a year ago I asked her if she thought we spent too much time talking to each other online and in her answer, she told me that there were times if I hadn't been online to talk to her, she wouldn't be alive today. I asked her when and she named three of the five conversations on the top of her head.
Dark One: I see.
Pariah: That hit me pretty hard, too. A little time after that a guy I was really close to was feeling hopeless and said that he was going to do one of two things, and suicide was the second. Our mutual friends scrambled to try to fix it but I just sat there paralyzed... numb. Was he serious? Did I have any way of knowing for sure?
Dark One: Well, was he serious?
Pariah: He didn't do it. But the more I thought about it the more I realized how unable I am to deal with it anymore. I can't be there for anyone 24 hours a day and... if there's one thing you've taught me is that it only takes one time to end it all. It just takes one night of feeling lower than low on uppers or downers and they can throw down the pills or find something to jump off of or... or take a rifle to their head.

He didn't say anything. He grabbed the rifle in his hand more tightly and just sat there, looking out into the empty field. Then he spoke.

Dark One: If you can't deal with it, then don't.
Pariah: That's the decision that I've made. I'm still close to Ora and some others with problems, but I can't take on any more in my life. Yet I have. I'm dating one now, in fact, until I can get out of it.
Dark One: Getting out of it is supposed to make the things better?
Pariah: It'll minimize the damage. Lisa fell hard for me in a short period of time. I can't give Cathy that long. It's more than just relationships, though. I have a friend that puts cryptic away messages about hopelessness and despair... and we don't really talk about it anymore, but I can't keep all these negative influences around.
Dark One: How so?
Pariah: One thing I always tell Ora and anyone else talking to me about their serious problems is that they need to not surround themselves with traumatic people. They need to find upbeat people that won't be able to relate to their condition...
Dark One: People like you, you mean?
Pariah: Ironically. People like me that aren't inundated with it. My point is that it's important who you surround yourself with. So my problem is that I am surrounding myself with the wrong people. There must be something that I'm doing to attract these people... or a reason that I'm attracted to these people. Whatever it is, I need to change.
Dark One: How are you going to do that?
Pariah: Those are the questions that I've been asking myself. I spend too much time online, for starters. People that I meet online are disproportionately likely to have these problems. I announced that I'm going offline for a while and I've been so ever since. I need to find more local friends. I go out a lot, but I need to start meeting more people when I do. Guys, girls, it doesn't really matter. I need to let go of the notion that I'm going to find a relationship or friends online and... well I need to change my behavior in a lot of ways. I think I need to let go of the notion that I don't need to find anyone. I'm happy in my nice, single life, but more than once I've let potential friends and girlfriends go because I've been too happy. Most of the ones that fought my resistence had definite reasons for needing friends... I suspect because they run through them frequently. Or maybe they don't and just find a kindred spirit in me and vice-versa. That's problematic enough, really.There must be something I'm doing to make this happen. Some aspect of myself that is leading to this repetitive occurance. I need to change it.
Dark One: You always did make that sound so easy.
Pariah: Make what?
Dark One: Changing yourself.
Pariah: Yeah, and it's gotten me in trouble before. But to an extent we all change. I used to be able to deal with people with problems a lot better, for instance. I used to be a lot more social. I'm not so much either of those things anymore, and that's both bad and good. However, if I can affect the changes that I go through, then it'll help me get to where I want to go faster.
Dark One: We are who we are, Alex.
Pariah: That's the difference between you and me, Keith. You accept that. I can't. Not anymore.

The hardest part about dreaming of Keith is waking up and remembering that he's gone, no matter how forcefully my dream tried to be clear on that fact. No matter how dead I know he is when I talk to him, he just isn't as gone when I wake up. Despite how close we were, I don't have a picture of him, so my dreams are the only time I actually get to see him.

Except when I think of him, of course, during which times I know every detail of his face. I don't think of him often, though, and he'd probably congratulate me on that. Sometimes, I'll hear a song that will make me think of him and I will want to cry, but I usually don't let myself because I know that the stoic he was he'd hate that.

All we can really do after tragedy is to move on, realize that things will get better, and figure out what it takes to make that happen.

[Epilogue]

[Originally posted on the No-Lyfe Journal]

When I was a kid, I played basketball in the junior league. My father was the coach of our team.

One day, I was in the driveway practicing when I got bored. Just to try something new, I decided to intentionally do everything wrong. Dad saw me and came out to ask what in tarnation I was doing, and I explained to him that I would do everything wrong now but in a game I would know not to do it.

That, to say the least, didn't fly.

He explained to me that even though on a conscious level I knew what I was doing was wrong, the more I did it the more I was training my body to do these things and in a game I would do them anyway out of habit.

The lesson to be learned, of course, is that the more you do something, the more ingrained it becomes and that you know it's wrong makes little actual difference when decisions have to be made in a split second, be it in a game or in real life.

I was about 10 at the time. I'm about twice that age now. I no longer play much basketball, but I am a quite prolific writer. Much of it is here and based on the events of my day and whatnot, but a lot of it is fiction writing. Some of that is irreverent No-Lyfe Productions stuff, but a lot of it has gone towards the two novels I wrote over the course of last year.

My novels tend to be more serious than my NLP stuff, to say the least. While I insert some humor to keep the story from getting too heavy, I mostly write character dramas. More than that, I write man-vs.-self dramas in which the characters are, generally speaking, their own worst enemies. They all have preconcieved notions of the way the world should be and tend to bend reality towards those ends. They run into people with different ideas and conflicts occur, but for the most part the characters put up the barriers to their own happiness.

I do not consider myself a particularly dramatic person. I don't seek out drama nor do I view it as a good thing. I am known by most around me for being relatively upbeat. My characters often frustrate me to no end as they continually make different variations of the same mistake until they either start doing right and improve or fail to and don't.

Writing can be an involved process. To write realistic dialogue and action descriptions, I have enter the heads of my characters. I have to see things through the same skewed perspective that they do. I know how wrong the characters are, but I have to think and act like they do when I am writing what they are thinking and acting.

They're morality plays and they either learn from their mistakes or the reader does. But while the point may be that character X is wrong, I have to think like X for extended periods of time. Or character Y or Z or whatever. I also take their struggles and in many ways glamorize it to make the characters more compelling.

But they're wrong and they live the types of lives that I do not wish to lead.

So the question becomes... am I making the same mistake now that I made 14 years ago? Am I not just writing my characters, but am I letting them influence me? By writing drama, am I becoming attracted to it through many of the split-second decisions that I make?

Just one of the questions I've been asking myself.

[Part Three]

I'm gearing up for the second novel in my Slaughter Chronicles series. I was doing research when I came across this religious site with some very... interesting ideas. One of my many odd duties at work is publishing (usually to CD or printout) my boss's giant religious tract, The Christian Array. While I'm not a member of the Church of Christ or whatever it is that the author of this site follows, I always find these things to be quite philosophically intriguing.

Here are the titles to We Were Once Angels:

Chapter 1 Before This Universe Was Created - God Had No Christ
Chapter 2 Before Our Earth Was Created - God Created & Destroyed Many Planets & Many Christs
Chapter 3 God Created This Earth & Found Jesus - And Jesus Became God's Earth Christ

Other Information
#1 Looking At Our First Three Lives Through The Power Of Pictures
#2 It Is UnGodly To Believe In UFO's & Aliens
#3 How Many Christs Did God Create And Destroy Inside This Universe?
#4 The Big Bang Theory & The Evolution Theory Had To Be Made Because Of Time Gaps

[Originally posted on the No-Lyfe Journal]

Dateline: 1 week ago.

I got home from the Rodeo at around midnight. I thought that I saw her car outside, but I didn't know why it would be there or, for that matter, why she would be here. I glanced up and sure enough, there she was. Of course she was, though. It's Wednesday. She always talks to me on Wednesdays. The day of the week we got together and the day of the week we broke up. She's not that particular, though. If she can't track me down on a Wednesday, it can wait until Thursday.

As I expected, she was waiting for me on the balcony outside. At least she didn't let herself in this time.

RAW: Good evening.
Lisa: Where have you been? I haven't seen you all week.
RAW: I'm taking a break from the Internet.
Lisa: Why? Avoiding me?
RAW: Would it matter if I was?
Lisa: Yes.
RAW: No.
Lisa: If not that, what then?
RAW: Avoiding online in general.
Lisa: You're not going to tell me why, are you?
RAW: Why would I? You're here to talk about you.
Lisa: Do you miss me?
RAW: Define “miss”
Lisa: Why do you always parse words?
RAW: Why do you always change the meaning of the word after I answer?
Lisa: Do you miss being together? Do you miss the time we spent hanging out? Do you miss anything about me?
RAW: No. Sometimes. Maybe.
Lisa: You said you'd tell me if you missed me.
RAW: I just told you if I did. One negative, two indefinite responses.

I offered for us to go inside and she agreed. I opened the door and held it for her. It offended her feminist sensibilities, but I was always good at that.

Lisa: Your room is still clean?
RAW: According to some. Not according to others.
Lisa: I was going to offer to help you clean.
RAW: No need.
Lisa: Oh.
RAW: Yeah.

She didn't say anything immediately after that. She sat on the bed for a moment, and then got up to start picking up loose change that was sitting on the floor, as usual. I sat at the computer and checked my email why she placed the coinage in the cylinder CDR case we'd designated for the loose change a couple months, or nine Wednesdays, ago.

Lisa: So you're still obsessed with email.
RAW: Not obsessed. I got a couple emails from the Congressman while I was out.
Lisa: The Republican?
RAW: Deal with it.
Lisa: I'm not saying anything.
RAW: Okay.
Lisa: Why don't you miss me?
RAW: I didn't say that I didn't miss you. I just said that I don't miss being with you.
Lisa: Because of your thing about second chances.
RAW: Yes.
Lisa: You know, I don't usually give second chances either. But you're different.
RAW: You're not.
Lisa: I know. I'm not here for a second chance.
RAW: Then what are you here for?
Lisa: I wanted to talk. I wanted to find out if you missed me.
RAW: Now you know.

The implication of her answered question was that she was free to go. I'm not a mean person, but I'd tried just about every other tactic to prod her to move on and nothing else came remotely close to working. I was growing impatient, and hiding it would have been counterproductive for both of us.

Lisa: Can we go to another room? This room has memories. I don't like being in this room.
RAW: So what else is new?
Lisa: I used to like this room. When we were together.
RAW: That's not what I'm talking about.
Lisa: Then what are you talking about?
RAW: If something feels uncomfortable, you leave it. It was a common pattern I noticed in your history.
Lisa: This coming from you? If I recall, the reason you gave for ending us was that you were “uncomfortable in this relationship.”
RAW: I was.
Lisa: And you left because you were uncomfortable, so who are you to lecture me?
RAW: We agreed up front that if either of us became uncomfortable that it would end. We both know that we are usually the instigators of our various breakups in times past, so in a way it was a race. I won.
Lisa: Oh, wow. You're right. You're the big winner here, Alex.
RAW: You said it yourself. If I hadn't ended it when I generally end these things, you would have ended it when you generally did. In fact, from what I recall, you almost left when I said I wanted kids, even though I never insinuated that I wanted them with you. You and I set down the ground rules together. It wasn't going to be serious and when the going got tough, we wouldn't tough it out.
Lisa: The going wasn't tough.
RAW: For you.
Lisa: Was I really that unbearable?
RAW: Not unbearable. Just more than I cared to deal with.
Lisa: Because I have issues. I guess I never should have told you about them.
RAW: You did tell me about them. Before we even got together.
Lisa: Then why did you leave because of them?! Why did you enter something you weren't even going to try?
RAW: First, our plan wasn't to try. Second, you told me about them, but you didn't tell me about their scope at the outset.
Lisa: So I shouldn't have told you that later on?
RAW: What you told me wasn't nearly as poignant as what you showed me.
Lisa: Because I showed you my sensitive side?
RAW: Because I spent three hours listening to you tell me how worthless you are and how you'll never amount to anything. Any time I tried to tell you that wasn't the case you picked a fight about it. That's three hours of my life I'm never getting back.
Lisa: Three hours? You've never wasted three hours before? You know, some people are strong enough to deal with emotional problems.
RAW: I know. I used to be one of them. And I can, it's not a matter of strength, it's a matter of energy. I'm not going to waste my time on a relationship that we both know isn't going anywhere. I don't have to.
Lisa: It's too bad I can't walk away from my problems when I am out of energy.
RAW: I guess I'm lucky. I can.
Lisa: You don't exactly have problems like I do...
RAW: I wasn't talking about my problems.
Lisa: Even when you're alone, they're there. When you're trying to have a good time, they're there. I'm not weak, Alex, I'm just overwhelmed. Maybe you can just ignore them and they'll go away, but I just can't do that...
RAW: I wasn't talking about my problems.
Lisa: It's not something I can turn off. I know you like to break everything down into choices, but sometimes you don't have a choice. Sometimes you are the way you are. What would you do if you had problems the way that people with my disease do? Walk away?
RAW: I wasn't talking about my problems. I didn't say that I could walk away from my problems. I said that I could walk away from yours, and I did.
Lisa: Because I'm a psycho?
RAW: Because you have problems. Problems I've dealt with before.
Lisa: Will you stop talking about your problems as if they're as overwhelming as mine?
RAW: The only one here talking about their problems is you. I was talking about loving people with the problems you have.
Lisa: Did you leave them, too?
RAW: Eventually.
Lisa: As quickly as you left me?
RAW: Sometimes. Sometimes not.
Lisa: Sometimes they weren't as bad as me?
RAW: Sometimes they were worse. Sometimes I didn't leave them at all. Rather, I stayed with them until the bitter end when they left me. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that holding the hand of someone with depression doesn't get you anywhere.
Lisa: It's all about you, huh?
RAW: Sorry, doesn't get anybody anywhere. If I could have left – or been left – with the impression that I'd done any good, I might look back on it differently. If after talking to you for three hours I'd been left with the impression that I'd done any good, it might have been a different matter entirely. Instead, the more I thought about it the more I realized that I didn't even need to be there. I could have just been at home, copying and pasting “I understand” ad infinum. But I wouldn't understand because whatever you have, and whatever they've had, I don't have it.
Lisa: Lucky to be you.
RAW: I'm really not in the mood for this. I've got problems, too, but they are not the fault of any disease. I don't have a crutch or an excuse. I've just got the problems that I've created over time. Problems that I'll deal with.
Lisa: Where are you going?
RAW: Downstairs. I'm thirsty.

She followed me down, as I expected she would. She also kept talking, as I knew she would. I shouldn't have even mentioned or admitted my problems. At the least, she would just ignore it. At the worst, she'd use it as a springboard for her own.

I dutifully listened, but refrained from saying “I understand” having just showed those cards. I tried pointing out some of the contradictions in what she was saying, but what was the point? At this point, it was her show.

Lisa: I'm not trying to convince you to get back together.
RAW: You mentioned that.
Lisa: I just want to make sure you know that. I just want to know if I'm so truly awful that you wouldn't give it another chance?

Her words would hurt more if I hadn't built up some numbness to them. It could be worse, I told myself. I could have to care. At least with her I knew before it was too late. She was open with me in a way that she claims not to be with many people, so I knew not to develop any feelings with her. That was one of the things that killed off the relationship so quickly. If I was emotionally immune, it was obviously going nowhere. The questions I generally have in the getting-to-know-eachother stage of a relationship did not entice me because I feared every last answer. She kept talking, but all I could think about was Cathy.

Lisa: No one is ever going to want me because I'm psychotic. Right?
RAW: Is there a correct answer to that question?
Lisa: You don't have to answer it. I know it's true. God, I don't want a relationship but I just don't know what else to do.
RAW: Don't get into a relationship?
Lisa: I want... the physical benefits of a relationship. I just don't think I'm ready for the real thing, you know?
RAW: Absolutely.
Lisa: Of course you do, you said from the start that you didn't want a relationship. With me, anyway.
RAW: Look, if you want a relationship, get in to one. If you don't, then don't get into one and find a guy who gives you whatever else you want. Just don't shoot out the lights and curse the dark.
Lisa: It's a choice, right?
RAW: Right.
Lisa: Hah!
RAW: Sorry, was I talking? My mistake. Continue.

Continue she did. When I would go too long without saying anything, she'd just find something shocking to try to get a reaction out of me. Just like when we were together. Nothing bothered her more than when I told her that nothing she does surprises me. She tried to make me angry or upset, but it doesn't work. My mind was still on Cathy.

Lisa: I've set myself up so that i can't be happy unless everything is perfect
RAW: Yeah, and that's your choice. Light. Bang bang. Dark.
Lisa: I always go back to thinking that if i hadn't blown my knee out, everything would be different.
RAW: Here we go again...
Lisa: I was happy then...
RAW: Did I say that out loud? Like it matters...
Lisa: I was athletic, intelligent, beautiful, muscular, strong, agile, fast. But i can never have that again. It's just starting to hit my family just how profoundly it affected me. I went from being everything i wanted to be, to feeling absolutely worthless. Literally.
RAW: To the extent you feel yourself worthless, there is little I can say that is productive.
Lisa: The doctor told me i couldn't play sports anymore and my world crashed and burned. Literally.
RAW: I'm sorry you placed your self-worth in your athleticism...
Lisa: It wasn't just that. I was stuck in a wheelchair, and on crutches, doped up. I couldn't do anything for myself. That's not easy for someone like me.
RAW: I can imagine that's difficult, and I'm sorry, but you can't live in the past and that was years ago...
Lisa: And it didn't help that my cat was murdered between the time that they told me i couldn't play sports and my surgery. And my grandmother...
RAW: Oh, sorry, spoke out of turn again.
Lisa: And i still can't let go of who i was. I was just a kid, but i loved life then. Even with all the bad shit that has happened to me. Sports vented all that for me. I played so hard i didn't have time to think about everything else. I was able to do anything. I was everything.
RAW: I'm sorry that you based your self-worth on your athleticism.
Lisa: It wasn't that. It was being strong, able-bodied and independent. It was being everything humans were meant to be.
RAW: I'm sorry that you base self-worth on athleticism. I'm not particularly athletic. Am I worthless by your gauge, then?
Lisa: It isn't good for me that i am still mainly attracted to people who are now, what i was then guys like that don't even notice girls like me. I had it. It was ripped away from me.
RAW: Lisa, I swear to God if we were having this conversation online I would just be cutting and pasting that I'm very sorry you based your self-worth on your athleticism.
Lisa: I'm not kidding when i say that there are times when I'd rather be dead, than live like this
to feel weak and old when I'm only 23.
RAW: Control C, Control V.

She didn't take note of my comment or it's accompanying finger movements of typing the keys I wish I could type to save myself the breath. She continued to talk about the injury for a little while. I'm not entirely unsympathetic. It's hard to imagine what I would be like if I couldn't write any more. But I don't base my self-esteem on that, and given that she didn't even mention the injury when we were together, something tells me her despair predates it significantly. Suddenly, she feels like talking about something else.

Lisa: Have you ever watched someone you love die, eaten away by cancer?
RAW: No.
Lisa: It is a slow and painful process, and that is exactly what i went through with myself, i had to sit and watch myself being eaten away by a disease i didn't know how to stop. Parts of me died a long time ago, and i fight now to stop it from eating away at the rest of me. Literally. Nothing can re-build what died, not my knees, not my soul.

Did I say something else? Never mind about that.

Lisa: It didn't just change my body. I did have to sit and watch my body change though, i watched muscle deteriorate. I went through a depression that makes how i feel now look like ecstasy. The drugs i was on killed my creativity, and i've never written as well since then, my grades slipped and I've never gotten back to where i was, where i picked up everything i read and heard without study. I think the painkillers affected my mind.

It's more than the painkillers. Either her problems pre-date her injury or they don't. Either way, she's broken. Broken not necessarily because of the injury or the chemical imbalance, but possibly of something else. Some overwhelming time in her life that she would not, or could not, recover from. I've had a few moments like that in my life and I've always managed to fight my way back. Watching her, and people like her, continually succumb to the defeat becomes a particularly excruciating chore.

Lisa: If it was just because my body isn't as good, i would be dead and buried. Not crying. Hell, being in a wheelchair kept me out of forensics in high school, not just sports. I'll be damned now if my parents have to bury me.
RAW: Lisa, you're 23. To the extent you believe your life is over and that you'll never be worth anything, that is a choice you've made.
Lisa: I've made my choice. I'm still alive, aren't I?

I'm reminded of Dante's Inferno. In one of the circles of Hell, there is a former proud general that lies face down in the mud proclaiming his greatness. All evidence to the contrary, he was great. Lisa, broken and resigned, takes pride in her strength and perseverance. All evidence to the contrary, she has persevered.

She rambles on longer while I periodically mention that it's late and I need to get going to bed. Since I leave it open-ended, she just continues as if I'd said nothing. Finally, I utter the words that have saved me Wednesdays before: “This conversation is over.”

And it is.

After she leaves, I walk upstairs and grab my cell phone.

Cathy: Hello?
RAW: Hi Cathy.
Cathy: Oh, hi.
RAW: How're you.
Cathy: I'm surviving. You?
RAW: I'm doing pretty good.

I don't tell her about the conversation with Lisa because she'd just get jealous or upset. She is, I found out late Sunday night, insecure.

Cathy: That's good.
RAW: What have you been up to?
Cathy: Just laying here alone, in the dark, wondering why I've always been so alone.

I shouldn't have asked that question. I should have been able to tell by the tone of her voice. Of course, when it comes to Cathy I should have seen a lot of things. I should have seen the signs I at least somewhat saw in Lisa. I should have seen that she was too excited when she was happy and too low when she was low. But I didn't, and Sunday night I found out that she was manic-depressive.

RAW: I... I see. Well, you're not alone cause you're talking to me.
Cathy: Yeah, I feel better now. I'm sorry, I just get this way sometimes. When I find someone I just get so scared that I'm going to lose them. I just don't feel that I'm worthy of anyone.

I should have noticed a lot of things, but I didn't. I tell her not to think about things that way, but she doesn't hear me and just continues. She doesn't quite have the stamina that Lisa does, and before long we're off the phone.

I try to think about the weekend and our fragments of normalcy together, but it doesn't hold. I can think of the great time we had, but the fact that I found out Sunday night that she cried on the four hour drive back to Dallas because she thought I hated her doesn't linger far from my mind.

When I get ready for bed, the questions come, as they have since Sunday night.

[Interlude]
[Part Three]

Reading this, I don't know whether to laugh, scream, or just read this in utter disbelief.

By default, I chose the third option.

"Do you want this done quick or do you want this done right?"

The answer is always the former, then later he wonders why the latter is deficient.

[Originally published in the No-Lyfe Journal]

She arrived on Saturday evening. She actually got in right before I got back from the gas station. I was parked behind her. It's always odd meeting someone for the first time, even if you've talked to them extensively over the previous three days. Especially if, in fact. In about thirty hours, everything would change.

She drove down from Dallas. We both had the same philosophy about these things: Get it offline and off the phone as quickly as possible. If she hadn't stayed come down to my place for the truncated weekend, I would have gone up there. There was something about her, and me, that just worked. On this, as with just about everything else, we agreed. With only a couple of trip-ups, the things went just as we imagined they would. When we woke up at one o'clock, we had about twelve hours of normalcy remaining.

She left Sunday afternoon. She had to study and I had to get to work. We would talk again that night and the next weekend we'd meet in Austin. In four hours, nothing would be the same.

She got home four hours later and called me as soon as she did. As soon as I knew she would. Within twenty-four hours, I would be so swamped in questions that I would take a break from posting, instant messaging, and the Internet in general.. Not with questions about relationships, love, or friendship. Rather, about who I am and the life that I'm living. To be continued...

[Continue]

It's just a big past noon and I don't think I'm going to make it until 5. I took my contacts out which makes my eyes even more irritated (because they're dry). I look like I had the living crap beat out of me. My cheeks are red and my eyes have black rings around them. I'm also starting to get really pissy with Veritas Backup Exec. For whatever reason it's not recognizing our Seagate tape drive. We've always had this problem, I don't know what it is. Changed software programs twice and the Seagate is new (we used to have an HP internal).

Blah.

I got a post coming up later when I can think straight enough to post on it!

I suck at hiatuses.

It's 10:00 now, I just got about 9 hours of sleep. I need to go back and get some more, if I can. Yeah, I had to leave early. To give you how bad it was I accidentally burned myself. Twice. I also poked my already aching eye with the sunglasses I was trying to put on. Needless to say, I was not in troubleshooting mood.

I got everything done I needed to get done. I actually finished around 7:45, though I was freaking out at about 8:15 because the numbers came out about $250k shy of where they needed to. Everything prior to that had them coming out about right. I kept asking myself "what the hell happened?!"

I was looking at the wrong month. Did I mention I was tired?

The cool thing is, though, that during and after the 24 hour shifts (that was my 5th, though I came just shy of 24 hours) is not when I hate my job, but it's when I love my job. That's when (the only time, even) I have time to do my programing uninterrupted. Those of you that program (be it C, JAVA, complex HTML or SQL) can appreciate how difficult it is to do so when you're interrupted every 15 minutes, which as the database programer and solo technician, about explains my job. When I work on weekends, I can set goals and work them out with minimal interruption and supervision, which I think is how I work best. Unfortunately, a job where I get to do that is pretty hard to come by, so I guess I take what I can get.

I'm searching for new work at the moment. I found a job in DFW I was qualified for. It would require moving, which I could do, but the prospect of a new job is somewhat daunting. Also, a lot of the questions I have about the way I'm living down here might be exacerbated by moving somewhere new.

Decisions, decisions...

It's 4 in the morning now and I'm still plugging away at it. I'm pleased with my progress so far, but I've lost vision in my left eye. My contact is rebelling. I'm not sure whether to take it out and completely lose vision in it or if I should leave it in and my eye closed to see if it can recover the moisture or whatever it is that keeps it against the eye that has gone missing.

Oh, and I am still on semi-hiatus, I'm just bored and lonely right now on this early Sunday morn.

It's 11:00pm on Sunday night. I've been at work since 3. Theoretically, I should be able to finish in a couple hours.

I said that a couple hours ago.

I don't think I'm going home tonight. Office policy states in order to not be considered absent, I must be there between 8-12am and 1-5pm, which means that I'm going to be here until 5:00 tomorrow.

26 hours.

Second Sunday/Monday in a row.

Except I just... oh, crap.

This makes two.

I can't do anything right, can I?

I just thought of something way cool. I quit blogging just prior to the beginning of Lent. I can make this more than just a time of getting my shit together, I can make it a religious statement. Radtabular!

I am going on an extended break and will not contributing in the near future. With the exception of work, email, and very rare exception, I will not be gracing the Internet with my presence for a while. I will be back, In the meantime, it's become apparent that I desperately need to do some soul-searching and take a close hard look at my priorities and the way that I'm living my life.