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Showing posts from 2011


Being a grown up, even only occasionally, is hard. Platitudes, on the other hand, are easy. I've found myself, if only now and then, making certain tough decisions. To most anyone else they're probably trivial; to me, they feel grownuppy and responsible. I recently posted about wanting some kind of android tablet . The other day I got an email offering me one of my top choices at a ludicrously awesome, though still unattainable, price. Something like $250 or $300 instead of $4hundredsomething or higher. At the time I only had about $250 in my account so I couldn't buy it on my own, but hot damn did I want it. I had to fight back the impulse to do what I've usually done in these sitches--when I want something bad but can't afford it (entirely) on my own and possibly find some good deal. Usually, I'd bring in my dad. Maybe I'd pay half or argue it's my Christmas/Birthday present all rolled into one or otherwise involve his spending power to make the

Slow down.

Since I thought of a title for this post, I've kept thinking of that Radiohead song--"The Tourist"--and its refrain . Hey man, slow down. Lord knows I need to. For one, this last week has been crazy as hell. Like, "whoa, that's fucking crazy". Most of the week I worked mad hours into the night helping to get the store ready for Black Friday. One night, I started at 6pm and got out at 8am; I got to bed at 9:30 that morning and rolled outta bed around noon so I could be back at the store by 3pm; I got out that night at 3am. I think (?) I had a day off--oh, right, Thanksgiving! sigh.--before Black Friday. I got to the mall at 10pm Thursday night and didn't leave until 10pm Friday. Yup. 24 hours. So, what with the wack hours and sleeplessness, most of last week seemed to rush past me. I hardly spent any time with my grandmother and thanksgiving was simply a large meal between naps before work. I don't feel like that was particularly fair to anyon


I'm hoping if I schedule this for late at night no one will read it. Because obviously I still have to blog it. The place I'm in emotionally and stuff is a lot better than it has been recently. I'm not as angry or sad, just disgruntled and restless. Of course, I'm not entirely sure what I'm feeling and certainly not why. I do know some sticking points my mood catches on and can't always shake itself free of. For one, a lack of friends. Like, there are the people I work with and the people I do Rocky with and the people I chat with online now and then, and, yeah, I suppose they count as some kinda friends. But I'm not sure how many of them or to what extent I can consider them friends . I don't think I can count more than a couple people--and I mean  a couple --I actually hang out with, regularly or otherwise. Of course, numbers are the silver bullet to any sense of a social life, but I think there's a point in there. For two, neglecting my writ

Oh, didn't I mention?

So I have 3 jobs now. It's gonna get intense--especially this week with Black Friday looming monolithically. I'm still not entirely sure why I'm doing this to myself, but I'm sure I've got a plan. So as many of you have inferred, I've been working at American Eagle Outfitters for over a year. Though it's been tough at times, it's still fun, and I've learned a lot. Then I picked up visual merchandising gig at Macy's, it was short term, but it was fun and different. It led to job #2: I've been picked up to do recovery & replenishment at Macy's. It's something I had to get good as well as fast at doing at AE, so frankly the actual tasking isn't so hard as the figuring out what to fix up and keeping up my stamina/focus. Then job 3 came along, half outta nowhere. Parker works over at PacSun as a keyholder/assistant manager (whoo! :D), and now our friend Jeremiah manages the store. People from my AE have flocked to our mall

Water sports and celebrity.

My friend Lucas is pretty cool shit, man. He and I go way back to when I still lived in NYC. God, we were such kids back then. Now he's a blogger, and goddamned good at it, man. I thought this recent post was particularly cute: " Back to the Basement: My Return to GBU ". I got so giddy and squee when I read, "To tell the truth, though, one of my favorite things about this party is the fact that it makes me feel like a mini-celebrity". He and I are, as I said, old friends. We met on some gay profile site about a jillion years ago and proceeded to chat quite amiably on AIM. Often we commiserated over how sucky and dumb boys were or how we needed to get ourselves laid. I remember it: that old apartment I loved so much, the dark of the room, the bitterness, the relief at having someone to talk to. It was good times. But we've (ostensibly) grown up since then. He's an up-and-coming sex blogger (giggity) and doing goddamn well for himself. He deserves i

Who searches for this shit?

I've posted about it before , but I love looking at my site's stats now and then. They're still woefully meager, but it's still funny to see what people were searching for when they found my blog. Besides being surprised that anyone would search for me/my blog (that's where most of my traffic seems to come from...), it's just plain weird imagining people who'd actually type some of these things into google and hit ENTER. Three particularly odd search keywords things from the last month caught my eye this afternoon. I'll list them from most funny to most odd. angry crazy screaming insane woman Seriously? Who the fuck searches for this? Like, sits down at the computer and says, "You know what? I wanna see an angry crazy screaming insane woman. Yeah, that's just what I wanna see right now." I can't even stand when the woman at a table next to me tries to get bitchy with the server (I can't stand it when anyone  tries to get bi

Thorough, blunt, and brutal.

I hadn't even heard of this "porn storm" attack on facebook, but frankly it's kinda hilarious. See, I've more than a bit of troll in me. I think I have too much of a conscience, though, to ever actually troll anyone terribly well. As a result I never went much for 4chan itself and its boards but have enjoyed (back when it was still vile and brilliant and funny as fuck). But though not much of a troll-er myself, I can still appreciate a good trolling. And, frankly, plastering porn and gore across facebook is classic. And hilarious. However, this dipshit thinks it definitely/probably wasn't Anonymous . Fair enough--it's hard to pin it on anyone for certain--but he thinks it couldn't be them for all the wrong reasons . And it leaves me wondering how it can be so difficult for people to understand Anonymous and /b/ and all that. For those familiar with them, I may have to break rules 1 and 2 for this, but I hope you can for


Fuck that iPad shit. Fuck it good. I've been eying those Android tablets something fierce ever since I played with one in a Verizon store. For one, Android is just way cooler and betterer. For two, it's so much fun to play with one of those things. 9 goddamn screens, man! :D (For three, I really dislike Apple (products).) And it looks like I may someday soon actually get one?! According to predictions, the price of some of the simpler Android tablets could have them as low as $49 by Black Friday . I feel like I should start researching this now because--as is usually the case--I'll probably get a lot of giftcards/checks by Christmas, plus all this money I'm raking (read: barely trickling in but in large quantities, if that makes sense), I may be able to splurge up something awesome. See, I still love my Android phone--I really do. It's a first gen Droid X, and even though it's a bit outdated it still does plenty to keep me happy. But between its occasional f

Might as well. brain is not functional. So why am I blogging? I suppose something in me values it--and wants to see me blog more. I've been trying to get more involved with my corner if the blogosphere/InterTronLand--subscribing to friends' blogs and following twitterfeeds and reading/snarking the news. It's fun but it can be a bit time consuming. I dont know how many prospective bloggers/internet celebrity hopefuls take that into account. That a good many of the internet folk&#160; they idolize for being so cool, so funny, so natural have had to commit such great sacrifices to seem so cool, so funny, so natural. Of course, half the battle is precisely to seem so cool, so funny, so natural. It's much the same for writers, generally; someone very clever, incisive, and possibly more than a bit jaded said somewhere out there on the internets--"Writing is an illness not a profession.". It's always a commitment of some kind. But it's also a <i

Call me Asshole.

Or Moby Dick . Cuz I probably am one. I have been for a while if that's the case, but it wasn't until yesterday that I was actually called out on it in all seriousness. And although I probably deserved it--and do and plenty more occasions, too--I'm still struggling with it somehow. Here's the context: @palmerpink : I mean, I can't really blame @THEHermanCain for sexually assaulting Bialek--she *is* kinda a cougar afterall #badfag @Dondurma : @palmerpink Maybe you think you're being hilarious. There is no question that you're an asshole, and an unfunny one at that. @palmerpink : @Dondurma I wholeheartedly agree, actually. Because why shouldn't I? As I said, I probably deserved this, but it also comes with the territory of being an asshole. Of course, that somebody could actually not like me is disquieting. Part of me was bothered every bit as much as the rest of me laughed it off. That part of me wanted to reply additionally w

Fuck yeah.

So, sex is really fun. And easy. Not the getting, exactly, but certainly the doing. Yeah, the fucking has gotten so nice and natural feeling. But it hasn't always been that way. A bit of back story. So back in high school, around when I first came outta the closet, I was troubled by that classical dichotomy--love versus lust. This was quickly rectified by discovering Walt Whitman and how openly he admired sex. Thus did I put aside any moral qualms about sex: sex was something beautiful and amazing to share in with another person, in which the feelings of love and passion could come together manifest and gift-like. Isn't that just sweet? All romantic and darling. Golly, I used to be such a good kid. It was still another 2 years or so before I fucked or got fucked; it was with my first boyfriend. We had some--many, really--good times. But our relationship was so worried and anxious--we were so young and dumb and insecure--, and that was often reflected in the sex. It co

Because I prolly should.

Yeah it's been a long bit since I posted, hasn't it? I've been working 20hrs a week at Macy's doing visual merchandising (it's still pretty sweet even if im exhausted from bad sleep habits), going to continue at AE at least for the short/medium term, but still polishing up my resume. I'll prolly be at AE through the holidays but I'd still rather it not be my only job/source of (fucking meager) income. I've been having some really awesome sexual revelations recently. You can bet your sweet little ass I am gonna prolly dedicate a proper post to that soon ish. I've continued feeling a bit agitated, however I feel like I have more options (?). I wont say "control" because that's part of the problem, I think. I think either my inner demands to have everything a certain way or my recurring frustration when some things never seem to change or my feelings of powerlessness about some things I just don't have any power over....something i

How things work out.

Interesting day; mundane post. Apologies up front. Today: I worked, I met up with Parker & Kial for lunch and had a lovely time, I worked out, I napped, I led a meeting, I came home, and I blogged. Er, am blogging. Whatever. Epiphanies were also had, and choices may be in motion. Read on:

We will be victorious.

I had a real long talk with my manager yesterday. It was good--overdue but grown up. It left me feeling the need to change how I act and treat myself. Shit's gonna get serious, bitches. Or so I hope. So, after the conversation, I was kinda pissed at myself. Possibly--hopefully--a good kinda pissed. And I think I came away having learned some important shit. I hope I can keep these lessons present in mind as they're as relevant as they are significant.

Wake up for the morning commute.

So I've been working this parttime gig at Macy's. Visual merchandising--from 8 to 1, which means I have to get up pretty goddamn early. I did pretty well today; I'm just about used to this sleep schedule. I was outta bed around 6:30, maaan....nuts. The rest of the week was a bit mixed: some days I ran late (only hadda get a ride from mom once) other days roughly on time. Today I was running early and so that was heartening. I really like working here so far--and not entirely because I'm getting paid more and have a moderately substantial number of hours. the work is good, even paced, and I feel appreciated. I do really well with that. I like getting some positive feedback overall; it doesn't need to be fawning or worshipful. Like my manager has tested me sayingthey things like "thank you for the hard work" or "you did well on the garlands, im grateful for your help". But we can discuss why I like that so much later. Right now I'm almost

Totally worth it.

I was just tweeting how utterly necessary it was to go outta my way trying to fix something I didn't even need. @palmerpink: So I've been trying to McGyver my laptop's AC adapter back to life without actually whipping out my pocket knife on a moving bus. #smartkid @palmerpink: All of this so I can blog from the bus--which I could as easily have done from this phone. #smartkid @palmerpink: I have at least figured out what the problem was. Now all I need is some electrician's tape and a pocket knife--oh. #smartkid Seriously, there I was trying every gadget on my pocket knife but the fork & spoon to pop open the adapter to see if a wire had come unsoldered. Only to remember once I'd popped it open that the problem was with the wire at the other end of the adapter. Le sigh. I tend to go through these adapters every few months. I'm bot sure if I'm especially abusive or they're especially defective, but I've gotten used to hawking up 10bucks eve


Back in NYC. As lovely as ever, if a bit more confusing, but then that's mostly my own doing. See, I could catch a bus home tonight OR I could stay at my friend's place and catch a bus tomorrow. Seems simple--but naturally I cannot allow that to be!!

More productive.

I feel less accomplished than I kinda expected to feel. Some of the chores weren't as doable as we'd hoped, and I spent less time writing/thinking than I'd hoped. But oddly I'm not exactly disappointed by it. It's nice just being here (how Hallmark....). But, seriously, I think I managed to get in some good relaxation time, and even if I haven't reached any ULTIMATE CONCLUSIONS on the things that've been on my mind, I've managed at least a bit of thinking I doubt I'd otherwise have found time/space for. I also got to spend some precious quality time with my grandmother; Lord, I love that lady :) It's nice to spend some time with her, one on one, and know she's doing well, yeh? Yeh :) Anyway, I'm strangely tired-ish again; I may rest some more. Fml, man; nothing 's gonna get done. But I may actually be okay with that....

The lake that never leaves.

I've been wanting to write a poem about this place--this lake, our house here--for the longest time. I thought of this title for it yesterday, when I arrived up the driveway and stood near the house and breathed the air, thinking, "Oh, this lake that never leaves". Because that's something I love most about it. Of all the moves and changes and (alleged) growing up over the years, this lake, this house, has always been right here. My mother and I realized that one perfect morning on the dock, at that mysterious hour before the wind picks up and the lake is flawlessly smooth. She pointed out how for both of us it's the only thing that's been constant in our lives; we've both come here yearly since we were born. A respite we can rely on; an anchoring place. I was getting worried that I wouldn't make it up here this year. I kept being detained by work or miscommunications with family. But I got here, and I am so happy I did. It's just about freezin

I'm on a bus, mother fucker.

And don't you ever forget it. I actually like buses. Buses and trains. I know a lot of people who abhore buses of all kinds--from Metrobus to Greyhound. But I ain't like them fools. Buses are cheap and generally convenient. Like how this ticket only cost me $17. Like how this bus has wifi and power outlets--and its seats aren't that bad, really. Nicer than most carseats. ("No smoking or drinking of any alcoholic beverages...."  my bus driver has just asked me. Two things I could poke fun at here. First of all--I can't ever remeber jonesing for a beer or bourbon on a bus even when I was drinking. Second--"smoking...any alcoholic beverages..." Since when could you smoke booze!? Why wasn't I informed of this!? hoorah, syntactic ambiguity !) So, yeah; for a mere 17 bucks and 4.5ish hours' time, I'll be in NYC. Love it. Especially the part where I'll have a good 2 and a half hours to kill in Manhattan before catching my second bus.

Between the trees, among the leaves.

So tomorrow I head up to Connecticut for the rest of the week. I'll be doing a good deal of chores--closing down the lakehouse for the season, painting and mending, and so forth--but I look forward to the time spent among the trees and the leaves, the wind and the cold. (Mind you, it's not normally that  cold when I visit, but I've never been up there this late in fall...and it's in the, the highest mountain or something... it's in a cute town, though ....) Anyway, I love this place. My family's had a lakehouse up there since the 1930s; it's got this stolid, stonelike quality to it. Immovable. Of course it's really made of wood, and being 80 years old needs a bit of work now and then. Which is my excuse for going up this weekend, to do some work to fix it up a bit and close it down for the season. I'm excited. A bit of time to go clear my head and look at some nature and think, if I must, or write, if I can. Honestly, just

A brand new old me.

I used to be that guy who knew the news. Really, really  knew what was up in the world. Like, every day I'd read the Washington Post , The New York Times , stuff from the  Guardian , and various news/analysissy blogs. I was a Journalism hopeful at the time, so these things were basically mandated reading. (I was also eagerly avoidant, then, and so this was a wonderfully purposeful means of killing time.)After I failed that journalism class, that habit fell by the wayside. But I've always missed it. Partly, that wonderful feeling of being knowledgeable; partly, also, that ability to explain important things/current events to other people. I felt I had a grasp on the world around me, which for a out-and-out space cadet like me is something kinda mind boggling. I'm not sure why I never quite picked up the habit/news-bug again. I think I always thought it'd be such a time commitment (indeed, reading even just the A sections or frontpages of all  dem papers can get a

Strangelove and brainlove.

Yesterday's post kinda sucked. One of those meandering tl;dr things I churn out every now & then and instantly regret. Oh yeah, I just did that: I made a totally unnecessary link to urban dictionary so you could understand me better (cuz I'm just cute & obnoxious like that). Today I'm thinking a lot on sex, literature, twitterfinds, brains, and um...newsness? I'm hoping to keep this post short (unlike yesterday's) and mostly coherent (also unlike yesterday's). At the least, to the point. We'll see how that works out.


My store had its holiday floorset this past weekend; the last 2 nights/days were a hellish, chaotic mass of stress and physical exertion. It was probably my 10th floorset, at least, but this time I couldn't help getting extremely frustrated and surly towards the end. I love my store and can't deny having contemplated some kinda management role from the very beginning. I like coordinating people, and recently I've wanted to hold people accountable for things like tasking pace. But as exciting as that could be, I'm not so sure it's what I want anymore. Naturally, it can be a long process to become a manager, but I'm aiming to get the seasonal shift lead position at my store this holiday season. Essentially it's a temporary key holder position meant to help with the extended hours and rise in traffic. It can also lead to further management positions. While this is a perfectly exciting possibility, it will be stressful. Hopefully I can figure out how to k

Oh well, in a bit.

I had wanted to post about my work-related frustrations, but that'll have to wait. I have to head into work in a few. Still muchly frustrated, fear not. Meanwhile, I finally typed and posted a draft of the poem I'm working on . You should really check it out; I'd muchly like the feedback.

Homeward and onward.

This was a wonderful trip. At leaat a full day too short for my liking, but rewarding and wonderful all the same. I had worried at parts that I would disappoint somebody. Like Mani by not really sitting down and catching up, or the friends I was meeting up with being indecisive or overpaced & underplanned, or Parker by leaving him behind with Mani yesterday. But it actually turned out pretty alright. Parker had a blast palling about with Mani and his friends, and hanging out with one of my friends ended coincidingly with when my other friend wanted to hang. And everyone, it seems, came away happy. Parker got experience parts of New York he didn't back when his family used to live here. Mani got to enjoy (? :-P) hosting a pair of nutballs for the weekend. I got caught up with two really awesome guys I could totally see working closely with or otherwise keeping in much better touch with. Revisiting this old town, the memories it holds; taking some ownership and reliving a sli

On the road.

<p>So I'm partway on my way to NYC for the weekend. It's been a while since I had a real, solid visit though my last two--bookending a trip to Connecticut--were lovely and marvelous.</p> <p>This feels kind of last-minute; I'm still not sure what all we'll be doing when we get up there. It still feels like only last week when Parker reminded me, "You know our New York trip is next week, right?" Oh, wait, I guess it <i>was</i> 'just last week'.</p> <p>I like the way this (mini)roadtrip feels. I guess I'm just so used to the way my parents freak out and micromanage and overpack and yell at eachother (something they otherwise never really do...). I seemed to almost inherit some of that anxiety as the weekend approached--mostly out of worry for how/when/what we'd be doing.</p> <p>But then I let go somewhat, somehow. Like, I'd call my friends to check in and coordinate, and while they'd

I have fleas.

The love of a cat can be difficult to understand exactly. Mine, for example, likes to bring me dead mice, birds, squirrels, and even bats from time to time. Others just like to snuggle and purr (he does that, too, of course). A few weeks ago, as an act of ultimate kitteh luffs, he brought me fleas. I love Marcel, really I do. But I tried really hard to hate him for this. (The problem is he's too damned cute & sweet to hate....) All the same, whether I love or hate the damnable fuzzhead, he got my bed infested with fleas. And possibly my bedroom. And maybe even the entire basement Parker & I live in. Sigh. So it's been a bit weird since I figured out the flea problem. Changing sheets every night, vacuuming tons, setting up a dehumidifier to control the fleas some. I honestly haven't personally found any more on my bed, but who knows.... I'm paranoid with formication --everywhere I go, I'm convinced there's fleas on me. Anytime some hair on my forea

Double Boosh!

Another youtube update! Holy WHAT!? I know, right? I haven't uploaded to youtube in about 2 years it feels and all of a sudden--DOUBLE BOOSH. 2 videos in the same week, man. F'ing nuts. Meanwhile, here's the video from yesterday: I've actually more or less figured out which poem to read, but I'll gladly still take suggestions :) The choices are Walt Whitman's " From Pent-Up Aching Rivers " T.S. Eliot's " The Hollow Men " W.H. Auden's " The Letter " (actually, I could be possibly persuaded to read "The More Loving One" if anyone actually asks for it...) I'll print it out and start markerizing it up today and maybe have something out sometime tomorrow....? 0.o It's a scary thought, frankly. I'm still kind of amazed that not only did I upload something to my youtube twice in one week but that I actually edited this second one. Crazy, yeh? It's a testament to how far I'v


POETRY. It rocks. I posted a video on youtube about my poetry-reading-ambitions , and in that video I linked here (and to the post I just linked to), and now I'm embedding the video here.   Is anyone else reminded of, like, a social networking orgy scene of some sort? But seriously, I'm actually pretty excited about posting my poetry on my youtube. It's something I've kinda wanted to do for a long time, and I guess I finally found the balls to try it. I might even upload something later today or tomorrow. It'll almost certainly be something by someone else and mostly for practice. I'm thinking either Walt Whitman's " From Pent-Up Aching Rivers ", T.S. Eliot's " The Hollow Men ", or shortest of all W.H. Auden's " The Letter ".

Killin' time.

No, I'm not here to slaughter you, your family, or your eyes with this post. But maybe your family's eyes. Hm. I just needa kill some time before calling my job back to see if they need me for my call in. Apparently the line is busy. Gasp! Other people! Using my job's phone! BLASPHEMY! In other news, this lady made my day yesterday. I was signing her up for an AERewards card, and she marveled at how fast I was typing. Like a good couple times. And then she asked, "Are you are writer or something??" To which I beamed, "Why, yes I am." Then added, "I also use a typewriter for drafting." She gasped at this. Apparently I brought back some PTSD type memories of writing term papers on typewriters back in the 19__'s. Still though, it was pretty awesome :D

That mother-effing song.

You know, I actually got the chorus to "Walk like a Dinosaur" stuck in my head yesterday morning. I was about to cut bitches. Or walk like a dinosaur. Either way, it wouldn't've been pretty. As I was previewing my earlier post, though, I saw that one of my bad movie resources, Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies, posted a recent review of  Track Of The Moonbeast , which I'd seen on MST3k years ago and always loved. What got me though was the title of the review: " Track of the Moon Beast (1976), Or Stalk Like A Dinosaur ". I'm dangerously close to getting that song stuck in my head again, but god damn if I didn't laugh my ass off when I read that.


Of sorts, I suppose. I wonder if anyone else is as tired of my saying/blogging things like "I've been a bit down recently..." or "I haven't been doing as much ___ recently" or "I'm not sure what's the matter...". Hmwell. It's true, though; I've been malaisey the last week or so. One weird thing is, if intermittently, I've been  actually working on that whole loan consolidation I've mentioned needing to do for the last year. Like, I'd say the forms are  actually about 80% done. It's probably still contributed to the recent downiness. Forms--for all their eventual straightforwardness--can outright overwhelm me conceptually. All the various bits that need knowing & doing. Not to mention it reminds me of this whole sticky mess of debt I've got, which, despite this consolidation putting some serious & badly needed reins on, still feels out of control and terrifying. So, naturally, instead of workin

Fun Times.

So I hosted the pre-show for Rocky Horror last night; it's honestly about as much fun as I can hope for in any given week. And I mean that awesomely--I love MC'ing Rocky. I love interacting with the audience--doing whatever I can to get them pumped and excited. I love teasing them, making dirty jokes, and otherwise putting them in a dirty, humorous time. I think a good pre-show is every bit as important as a good shadow-performance or call lines. If the pre-show sucks or drags or doesn't engage the audience, why should they get excited about the movie? Plus, it's when all the really memorable stuff happens--like Virgin Games. Mmm...I love me some virgin games. Right now we're/I'm fiddling around with a new one. We half stole it from a neighboring crew, SM (Satanic Mechanics), but I've mod'd it a bit. Originally we'd pick a few virgins and give them some span of time to assume some creative sex position and give it a name. In the interest o

Whoa, I'm alive.

It's, like, been a month or stuff, hasn't it? Things were middley for a bit but now the going's getting good. I hardly understand where these funks of mine come from, but they can be f'ing sneaky. I think I was, as usual, feeling left out, unsatisfied, and stuck. That's pretty typical or me I guess. Thing is that funkness isn't the whole reason I wasn't posting. Things got kinda hectic somehow. Like, I was doin' a lot of hardcore stuff at work and rushin' around, and what freetime was left was absorbed by the funk, Pokémon, and the odd proactive thing. Muchly weird. But onto the gooder stuff! So I finally got my resume together. Thank fucking Jesus. My sponse is looking it over but I feel it's overall so much better than my previous ones. It certainly helps that now I can say stuff like "totally rocks at American Eagle". Last week Parker, Kial, and I all went to see Finding Nemo in Wheaton Plaza and then Lifeforce at the AFI

On Crap.

I feel like yesterday's post was one of the ones I frequently regret posting.  Rambly, dark-ish, disheveled about, unimportant....often simple enough concepts I seem incapable of leaving be--but must complicate, often obscenely. It's a frequent bad habit of mine, I guess. The way my brain is, I can't ever leave anything "simple enough". Given all the directions my brain goes in at once, it's a wonder I don't complicate some things even worse. A classic (ie. vintage) slogan in AA is "Keep It Simple."; I'd probably do well to remember that in my blogging. It might lead to shorter, clearer, more accessible posts. Like this one--I'd started it yesterday and was all set to launch into some kind of self-invective ramble. Going a bout trying to clarify and deride at once. Not a terribly pretty sight. And that'd probably have just be the  beginning . You know, the  simple part. Also worth keeping in mind: Not everything has to be a


See, I feel really compelled to do some somethings. I'm just not sure what, or how, or even if I actually "can". Part of me wants to do creative things like work on some long ignored projects or conceive some new ones. Part of me wants to/knows I should do some responsible things like some paperwork and make some calls. On the one hand, there are such doubts swimming about my little mind and, on the other, such guilt for not working on these things. So while some things seem difficult or unmanageable, others feel all the more obligating for every bit I consider doing something else instead of them. And of course mixed in there is general confusion and particular uncertainties. Like, I just don't know what to do, and I don't feel certain about anything one thing I start setting my mind on. Too much I could choose to do and too much worry about whatever I choose not to. The other day, I noted that perhaps my greatest curse is a failure at prioritization.

That makes more sense, at least.

I think I figured out where I was heading with that post the other day . As I often do, in blogging as in life, I think aloud a lot. Perfectly harmless, mostly. So in case you couldn't tell I was struggling to figure out the point of that post as I wrote it and hadn't the sense to just save it as a draft and fix it later. All the same, I think I've figured it out afterall. It used to be that when I would tell someone about something or even the way I'd be doing certain things, there'd be something I wanted out of them. And that would more often than not shape how I phrased what I said--manipulation. Like, I'd tell them about some problem I'd solved, trying as subtly as I could to get them to commend my cleverness. Or maybe it would be a story of how awful something had been, and I'd hope to gain their consolation, sympathy. Like when I had trouble writing papers for a class. I wouldn't leave asking for an extension at just telling my profes

Not quite cured, but not as sick.

It's been, what?, a week since I've last posted? Really? That blows. Here I was hoping the whole Cali thing might herald in a new era of my blogging....maybe it still can. I worked so much of the last week or so that I was beginning to ache even on my day off. Like, I musta worked at least 35 hours of shipment, man. That stuff is hard work. Especially when you work it like I do--fast and hard. On the one hand, it's nice to be appreciated/needed, I suppose. But on the other, while I know plenty of people work that many hours or more every week, it really took its toll on me. Like, on Monday, my arms were spaghettifying  while I was trying to haul about those boxes of shipment. Not good timing on the part of my limbs; no sir, not at all. (I guess I could point out that many of those people working 40hr weeks probably have lovely office jobs and those more blue collar brethren are probably more used to this kinda work than I am.) An interesting note: I don't beli

Pictures of You.

What an emo-esque title, eh? Well, I tracked down all the pictures I had of Cali and put them up on picasa. I also added them into yesterday's post--I was so angry at myself that I hadn't even included that one I really, really like. Oh well. Cali I'll probably get some more from my dad later (they were pretty close, too; also he's a bit of a shutterbug and she was a bit of a shutterskank), but these ain't all that bad for now.

Why do kitties have to die?

I put Cali to sleep on Friday. It's been tough, naturally, and all too lifey. I'm sorry this is such a long one, guys; this isn't some frivolous update afterall. For those of you who want to skip to the poem, yeah, click here . Anyway.... I miss my cat. Let me just say that up front. I miss her. I really do. But....I'm sure there's some vast reasoning or magical thinking I could use to justify the decision entirely. I'll just leave it at—It was the right thing to do. Or, where that isn't good enough,—I did well by her. Even before the vet found the growth (probably lymphoma) in her tummy, I tried my best to treat her well—she was obviously sick. She made it easy by being adorable and playful and lovable most of the time and only preciously infuriating the rest of the time. She was an absolute brat last Winter—she couldn't eat her own food without puking and she'd find her way into any other kind of food out of desperation. Even dishwater, a