I will get myself outta the house and up into the City tomorrow nite... Yes, I will.

I'm bringing alcohol to scary-movie-night... Alcohol is a must tonite.

I am SO not a scary movie person. Blood and guts, blades and monsters make me scream and cringe. Easily. You do not want to watch scary movies with me at the theatre if you're easily embarrassed and/or your ears are sensitive to blood-curdling screams.

But nothing freaks me out like the occult. I'm very affected by movies involving occult-related themes. I can't help but suspect that the supernatural does exist... that the supernatural things see happening in those movies do actually happen. Despite my aversion to religion, I sense this is a spiritual world. Seems more likely that God and the Devil, angels and demons do exist, than that they are just figments of early man's imagination.

Watching movies about the occult forces me to pray to God to protect me. And I hate resorting to doing that to feel alright.

At times like this, I really wish I knew people other than the people I know.

I've reached the point where I feel I've gotten all I can and want out of the people I already know. I want to meet new people.... new people to turn into my regular friends, with whom to do the things I naturally and genuinely like to do. I haven't made the effort to meet new people who aren't somehow connected to people I already know. Why haven't I? Maybe because I've been more or less satisfied with my current often-mellow-and-boring collection. Maybe because I'm not sure where to or how to pick up new, more interesting friends. Maybe I'm just shy and lazy. Or maybe I'm waiting for someone to want to go along with me into a crowd of strangers...

I'd like to meet people who inspire me to be more than who/what I already am. I really don't know many people like that right now, if any. I expect that when I meet new people, some insecurities will come back... I will realize how boring and unoriginal I have become myself. I'd have to work on not letting that discourage me or make me feel unworthy of more colorful and stimulating friends and acquaintances. Should just stick my neck out, get myself out there... But out where exactly? Should I do some research and some pre-work on myself before I can expect to meet and befriend these new people? Ugh. Probably. I'll think about this again later...

I shoulda just fuckin gone and picked out a costume for tonite... and sat around at home in my costume, opening the door and handing out candy to the little trick-or-treaters, at the very least...

I'm pms-ing. I'm moody. And I'm gaining weight.

Jennie the workout-a-holic... where is she now? Where is my motivation to exercise? I had it 6 months ago... Back then, getting out of the house and having something to do on my own was enough motivation. The skimpy clothes of summer and the places one went in those skimpy clothes was sometimes motivation too. What could/would motivate me now?

What do I need to look "better" for anyway? It's not like I'm unhealthy or un-fit or chubby... yet. It's not like I want more attention or need any compliments about my body. It's not like I'm trying to attract a partner right now. It's not like I'm going to meet and miss "Mr. Right" tomorrow because I happened to have a bad-hair-day or a bad-body-day...

Oh, I know... I'd like to be invited to a few company holiday parties this year. I might not be invited, or I won't want to go, won't want to get into an expensive, form-fitting, fancy-schmancy gown, if I look/feel dumpy... So I'll try to make getting invited to as many holiday parties as possible my motivation. I love to get all dressed up.

I tried to make dressing up for Halloween a short-term motivator earlier this month... It didn't work. Another year will go by without me dressing up for the occasion... but oh well. Many more...

See, I have these beautiful days... and then at nite I have bad dreams. I've had them for the last couple of nites straight. In them, someone or some people are always trying to kill me, or me and my friends. I always manage to escape death. But what's up with these dreams?!

The sunset was beautiful in my world today, on my drive home... Two jets in were trailing their silvery ribbons across the orange slendor. Through a miscommunication between me and my parents when I was a child, I thought those jets were called skyscrapers. It made sense to me... they make loud noises as they scrape marks in the sky.

These days so much looks beautiful to me. So much sounds so beautiful. So much feels so beautiful. So much tastes so beautiful. More beautiful than ever. Why all this beauty? Am I about to die? Is it possible for me to die in my own world? Who do I will my world to? My unborn children...?

So then I must plan on having some of those someday...

Heh. Well, hopefully that ain't the case with everything that goes in there for either of you...

It's 9am. I'm sitting in a booth at Burger King in Redwood City, eating my breakfast, typing into a laptop, and waiting for the smog check on my Integra to be finished. This is the first time I've ever done this. I couldn't imagine myself laptop-ing in a fastfood restaurant a month or two ago...

On Fri nite, I finally saw My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Weddings. I've been to more weddings to date than most of you. When I was young, my dad did on-location special occasion photography on the side, on the weekends. I was his assistant. I carted his camera cases, tripods, umbrellas, backgrounds, etc. on dollies to and from the locations the festivities occurred. I loaded and unloaded the film in his Hassselblad cameras. Eventually, I was also allowed to snap a few candid shots, which sometimes made it into our clients' photo albums. I was so proud.

I saw so much during these shoots. Many different kinds of ethnic celebrations. Quinceaneras, bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs... Many different traditions. Many different ways to celebrate a wedding. You could tell which ones the people involved had gone all out on, and which ones were thrown by cheap bastards who were just going through the motions. There were young brides and old brides. Long, religious ceremonies, and quick, get-to-the point non-religious ones. Old-fashioned and conservative, or contemporary and open-minded. Beautiful, colorful, minimalistic, frilly, or gaudy. Huge families, many friends, and small, lonely gatherings. Close-knit, loving, loud, warm, and or cold, distant, quiet, dry families... And everything in between.

Watching the fanfare, seeing and capturing the emotions in people's faces, witnessing and feeling their anxiety, hope, love, etc... I never did really want the same for myself. The gravity of the intentions of the two people at the forefront of all the hoopla was always in the back of my mind. An unpopular teenager, I couldn't imagine myself ever with a partner, much less finding one I could or would want to stay with "until death do us part"...

Now back to the weekend... Chilled in the City on Saturday. Went in search of a jacket/coat. Came up empty-handed. But a sunny-not-so-cold-and-windy day in the City is never a waste of time. Saw many dogs being walked. At nite, met more Cornell alums. I know quite a few now.

Sunday nite, I carved a pumpkin. It turned out better than I thought it would. This is probably the extent of my involvement in this holiday this year. I'd planned on dressing up, goth-skater-punk'd out, as Avril Lavigne... and traipsing up to the Castro this year on Halloween nite. But I never got around to buying the few but necessary pieces to create her look. All I really wanted was to wear a number of those black leather cuffs covered with silver spikes on my wrists.

I want to make a trip down to LA again soon, before the year is out. The person of my past who continues to come up in my mind from time to time, Brian, is down there. I'd like to see how he's doing. For no other reason than to check in and continue to follow his life, clued in with accurate information... the same way I check in on my family. I do that almost weekly now.

I've been talking about them a lot lately... mom and dad. I've been seeing them a lot more frequently. Since becoming single, I've had more time to do the things I know I should make a priority, that I'd regret greatly someday if I didn't do...

Two old ladies were sitting on a bench outside when I left Baywood Court this afternoon. They looked like SF's famous twins, Marian and Vivian Brown. Pale, white hair-ed, super wrinkly, hunched over, a walker in front of one of them. They sat close together, like two longtime best friends sharing a moment in the sun. "Awww... how sweet," I thought.

As I walked by, one patted the other on the knee and said, "Soon you're gonna be 99, mother."

Right now, my mom and I look at least 25 years apart... me in my 20s, mom in her 50s. In about 35 years, we may just look like two li'l ol' asian ladies around the same age keeping each other company...

Show me your passion. If you have any. Paint me a picture. Play me a piece, or sing me a song. Don't show me in writing. Words are words are only words...

[me] (1:18:18 PM): i haven't read about what metaphors were present in the movie yet... but i think the ones that were there, u probably absorbed subconsciously.
[me] (1:18:29 PM): just didn't have the energy to consciously ponder them last nite...
[me] (1:18:41 PM): i mean... if u actually sit around and think about [the movie], even w/o
[me] (1:18:50 PM): reading any reviews, i'm sure u could come up w/ stuff.
[me] (1:18:54 PM): it's just a matter of being willing to
[me] (1:18:59 PM): dig deep.
[me] (1:19:16 PM): sometimes there are deeper aspects to things... but one just doesn't wanna bother.
[me] (1:19:26 PM): would rather just enjoy what's already entertaining about the surface.
[me] (1:19:27 PM): :-)
[me] (1:19:33 PM): esp in the latter years.
[me] (1:19:39 PM): the beauty of things that are deep
[me] (1:19:41 PM): is their ability to
[me] (1:19:46 PM): hide the depth and still
[me] (1:19:49 PM): come across as entertaining
[me] (1:19:52 PM): and lighthearted
[me] (1:19:58 PM): so that only a select and willing few
[me] (1:20:05 PM): will dig deep for what else is there...
[me] (1:20:09 PM): but there's still the appeal to the masses.
[me] (1:20:13 PM): that is the beauty of a great work.
[me] (1:20:14 PM): :-)
[me] (1:20:18 PM): (in my opinion)
[me] (1:20:35 PM): (which [some] would say i'm trying to pass off as fact)

[me] (12:35:33 PM): do u really really always take every
[me] (12:35:35 PM): single thing pps say as
[me] (12:35:39 PM): absolute truth?
[me] (12:35:45 PM): ppl tell u the truth as they see it.
[me] (12:35:47 PM): and u know that.
[me] (12:35:58 PM): ppl give u opinions, impressions, points of view...
[me] (12:36:01 PM): that's what they're good for.
[me] (12:36:04 PM): they're good for making u think.
[me] (12:36:06 PM): not for changing u.
[me] (12:36:14 PM): not for influencing u to be someone else or to see the light or to think differently.
[me] (12:36:19 PM): they just put their ideas and opinions out there...
[me] (12:36:23 PM): for u to say "hm..." to.
[me] (12:36:47 PM): if u decide u don't like anything they say, or it is bringing u down instead of
[me] (12:36:58 PM): giving u new thots and feelings that you'd like to entertain, then leave.
A***a**** (12:41:21 PM): ok
A***a**** (12:41:23 PM): later

I just tried go to running for the first time in weeks. Didn't get further than 100 feet from my house...

All year and especially during the summer, I was all about sports and gym-ing and sweating. But see me now. I've lost the momentum. I haven't exercised since I got sick more than a week ago, and I can't seem to get right back into a routine. The darker, colder weather makes me wanna just stay in the house and bake things, or go out to eat and gorge, or cuddle up on the couch in front of the TV while gorging on things I've baked. The weather is domesticating me, as it does yearly. I think I may just act accordingly and rely on the heavier fall/winter clothing to hide the extra pounds...

It feels like Friday. Already.

On my drives to and from work, I check for unsettled or new and groundbreaking thoughts and feelings to work out or ponder until I reach my destination. These days, the search comes up with few or zero results. I feel the tiniest bit uneasy about that... probably just because I'm not accustomed to having such few issues to work out.

I'm most conscious of the sustained level of satisfaction I've been experiencing for weeks. It's up there. I haven't in the past remained at this level for this long. I feel so "at peace". What could bring me down from this level? Confidence is at an all-time high... increasing my awareness of the mass insecurity all around me. Call me damned cocky, and I don't care. I'd rather be me than you right now...

I'm also aware that there are all sorts of significant/important/weighty things happening around me all over the world. Gazillions of people are scurrying around doing things, living simple or complicated lives, for this reason or that purpose... but all are inadvertently working together to make the world, my world, a better place for me to live... Thank you all very much.

This world belongs to me.

"The world is my playground."

It's taken me around 27 years to realize that. I feel it when I'm driving. In the streets. Up or down 101. I look at the other cars around me. Driving slower or faster than I am. All around me. In my world. And I smile.

Last nite I picked up a pumpkin from Safeway. I've never carved a pumpkin before in my life. I've never made pumpkin pie from scratch. Hope to do both for the first time this weekend...

The first time I recall seeing a pumpkin, I was 2 or 3. My brother was still confined to a babyseat in my parents' yellow Nova. Dad told me to stay in the car, while he and mom picked something out for us.

Well, I came out of the car. I wanted to check out the big field full of HUMONGOUS oranges! When dad saw me, he either scolded me or spanked me, and I cried. Then he sat me down on one of the pumpkins and took a picture of me. Me, in my little dark jean overalls and colorful little hat.

Dad puzzled me then... I couldn't understand why he wanted to take a picture of me in the pumpkin field if he didn't want me there in the first place... and when I'd just disobeyed him. It was a priviledge to have one's picture taken, and pictures were taken during happy times. Even at that age, I pondered the apparent duplicity...

Children come up more and more frequently during dinner conversations with my parents. They bring up the subject; it's one of their favorite now. They are more than willing to have me give birth to the little bundles of joy, and then take over from there and raise my children for me. They want those babies... and they're not subtle about it anymore.

"When you have children, I will definitely push music on them. Because you had talent, but you did nothing with it."

Growing up, I never believed any of the encouragement and praise I received. Dad said that many times, but I'd never really asked... or I wanted to hear him say it again...

"How did you know? I mean, how did you know I had talent? That I wasn't ordinary... that I was especially talented?"

"I always knew it. Everyone knew. Since you were very young. It was obvious you had it in you. When I heard you play [the piano], when they heard you play... we could all tell. You were different from the rest. Your musical expression... Oh, we could all feel it."

I felt it too. But it was deeply personal. The emotions were mine, from my own private collection. Not meant to be shared with the public. How dare people make me perform for them... put my heart, my feelings on display... especially in a room full of strangers?!

Years later, having done nothing with it, I now appreciate whenever dad reminds me of what I used to have... what he gave me... what he is dying to pass on to my children.

Last nite, I dreamed I owned a couple dogs. A male and a female of the same sort... and they produced an adorable puppy. I really don't know anything about dogs, and I never really liked live animals when I was young. Had a hamster and a couple goldfish, but nothing that I couldn't confine in a cage.

Lately, I've been thinking more and more about owning a pet. A dog. Maybe due to misplaced motherly instincts, which are now coming out of me in my mid-mid-20's... I don't have the means or the ability to take care of a pet right now. If at 35 I'm still single with no kids, I'll either get myself a dog... or adopt a child...

I'm learning to be more social again... making an effort, initiating conversations, asking questions, finding common topics of interest, pretending to give a damn when meeting new people, taking myself out of old, tired groups and scenes, crashing new ones... with the continued help of alcohol.

I love that word... plush. Just the way it sounds... is sort of equivalent to the way a hug feels. PLUSH!

Last nite, I sat down in front of the computer to write my own obituary. Morbidity rises out of me when I'm ill, I suppose. I jotted down a couple lines. Quit early 'cuz I got tired.

In other news, I didn't get laid off today. My group was spared this time around. I wasn't worried. Am not worried. Lately, these kinds of things fail to phase me...

What sometimes does phase me are the stupid little nosy obsessive-compulsive things that stupid little nosy obsessive-compulsive people do. They can do those things on their own time, in their own space... and I wouldn't give a shit. But when they butt into my business, especially uninvited, it's damn freakn annoying. *SWAT* Get the fuck outta my life, will ya?!

After four days of sickness, I'm done with this bug. Wasn't gonna let it keep me from enjoying the weekend. In your face, GERMS!

Intuition or paranoia? Which is it?

Sometimes it is the illusion of love and care that sustains me, the semblance of something more than ordinary and conventional that makes me feel special, the likeness of a complement that gives me life... One in a million. In my bleakest hours, I hang on, believing it's there. May I never find out otherwise...

Continue the farce for me.

Jennie's not weak. Jennie doesn't get tired. Jennie doesn't get sick.

I am sick. I feel horrible. Since this morning, I've been waiting for night to come so I can get on Nyquil. Nyquil is the bomb.

These days you can dress sloppy, wear no make-up, and still be hit on at Boston Market in Foster City by a cashier named Ruben who doesn't care if you have a boyfriend or not.

The question: "What nationality are you?"

It's not a simple question to answer. Not for me it isn't. I say, "half Chinese, half Korean," and if I'm not asked for further explanation, it's cool. In the company of other Asians, however, that often leads to, "So which parent is Korean and which one is Chinese?" That's not so hard to answer, but it gets bothersome when people start asking, "What kind of Chinese?" Sometimes it's just, "Mandarin or Cantonese?"... as if there are only those two kinds of Chinese! How do I answer these questions accurately in under 10 words?

Mom's parents were born in China, mainland somewhere... but they met and married in the Philippines. My mom and all her siblings were born in the Philippines, so they speak Tagalog and "FuChienHua" (don't tell me I didn't sound that out right - give me a break). So what kind of Chinese does that make me? I guess I can say I'm more Mandarin than Cantonese, though Mandarin isn't really a type of Chinese. (Mandarin-speaking is.) And even if that would suffice as an answer, albeit a poor one, it might not be the right call if the person asking wants to carry on a conversation with me in either dialect. I actually understand more Cantonese than Mandarin because I hung out with Cantonese-speakers in college and learned a few things, but I really don't understand either one well enough to be comfortable telling anyone I'm one or the other. I find myself having to explain that to people too... why my parents didn't teach me either Chinese or Korean while I was growing up.

See, it's not a simple question to answer.

Why does it even matter what kind of Chinese I am? Why do people feel the need to drill down to that level of detail, even when just having met me randomly at a club? Can I just make up a simple answer that says it all, such as "I'm Taiwanese" or "I'm Japanese"? No, because it wouldn't be believable.

Why can't I just say, "I'm American?" ...and have the line of questioning stop at that?

We do the same things every Sunday when I visit my parents. I arrive at home just as they are returning from church, and we drive out for dim sum in Pleasanton.

When they aren't talking about God and church, my parents have a lot of interesting and amusing things to say. The family interaction and reaction to what's brought up is entertaining as well. Best are the comical anecdotes about family friends or random folk such as dad's customers. The way our family views and analyzes people makes us laugh. That is the kind of humor that I am used to. Lately, I've been hearing a lot about our neighbors... the ornery Wadsworths on the left, Jeff the drugdealer next door, John the old Mexican two doors down, Megumi down the street, etc.

Today, dad tells me that this past week he received a call from Mike (boyfriend number two, circa 1993-4). Mike has kept in regular contact with dad and mom over the years, though I stopped keeping in touch with him years ago. Mike is the one ex my dad actually befriended, though dad still wasn't fond of the fact that I was going out with Mike (mainly 'cuz dad didn't trust me dating then). Dad had given Mike his first job at Pro Image. Mike has always been very appreciative and respectful with dad, and sweet and charming with mom. Anyhow... the news which Mike called dad about is that he now has a fiance. Another one of my ex's is going down that path... I'm glad for Mike. He deserves all the happiness he can find for himself.

At home on the couch, mom updates me about her PT sessions and dutifully reminds me that my ticking bio clock won't wait for me to "be ready"... and that therefore, settling down with a "responsible, practical man who can cook" and giving her a couple grandchildren are things I should be doing soon or at least looking into now... "before all the good ones are taken," she says. Ugh. I explain to her that as I get older, I'll simply go for younger and younger. She doesn't think that's a good idea. I promise her, then, that I will do whatever must be done before I disintegrate. I reassure her that, despite my wish to be independent now, I won't pass up a good thing if/when I come across it. She's not convinced. So I say I don't want a responsible, practical man if all he is is responsible and practical. I want someone who shares my passions. She says I shouldn't end up with someone like myself; it'd be best to find someone who balances me out. I try to tell mom about the necessity for that special/unique-connection. She frowns, doesn't seem to understand, and calls me too idealistic. I, the one who not so long ago used to tell others they are too idealistic... since when have I been? Maybe may-this-year-ish? "No... What's missing is God," she concludes... and that is when I start tuning out and fall asleep.

Damnit, I fuck'n spent all my money until next paycheck tonite. And I said I wasn't gonna...

But I had a fuck'n great time too. Four hours of non-stop dancing, sweating, 3 drinks, 2 cigarettes... I drove myself there sober. I drove myself back sober. I am so damn proud of myself. $40. And it was worth every penny to be able to post this.

Status Report on Eric: Visited him at his home around 7:30pm. Looks like the surgery went well, and the meds are doing what they should. Don't see any pain written on his face. Humongous sling thing on his shoulder and arm. He wakes up for a bit to talk to me. "How was work today?" "What are you doing tonite?" etc. He looks so groggy and out-of-it. I should let him sleep... not bombard his eardrums with my animated and incessant ramblings about my ordinary day. I am excited to see him. All fixed up. "Think you'll be fine enough tomorrow for me to come over again?" He nods his head...

We are all geeks, and we all love ourselves-the-geeks.

My working-from-home stint was short-lived. I was going stir-crazy... so thank god it's over. (Hm... have I been un-caps-ing god regularly lately?)

The vendor PO went through last Friday. Sierra Atlantic is now contracting me out to Sun. I've been sitting in a cubicle in front of a laptop in an office building for the past five days. My IP address here is of the 206.86.29.1XX variety... for those of you nerds who like to know that sorta thing...

You will come back to us after they put you under. You must.

Sometimes your heart expands... just a tiny bit, and only temporarily. You feel it bigger, thumping there within your chest... Slowly. You feel every beat. They are warm swells... they feel good... You breathe slowly too... feeling full and open... Your head falls back... Your eyelids close slightly, and your lips part... And for a moment or two, you imagine it can't get any sweeter than this...

I'd hope one of you would do the same for me... if it ever came to that.

It won't ever come to that unless something terribly terribly wrong happened. I value my one and only life much too much.

But I find this excerpt interesting:

"We've recognized that teens have a degree of intimacy of communicating over the Internet that is astounding," said Eric Trupin, a juvenile and adolescent psychology professor at the University of Washington.

"It doesn't totally surprise me that this youth was having this kind of interaction," he said.

Trupin agreed that the public Web posting was very similar to a plea for help, very much like a suicidal person standing on a bridge or high-rise building.

Well maybe, if you were an exceedingly hot 'n tasty, intellectual, talented, and sensitive individual, though also exceedingly shy, I could excuse your methods of trying to get to know me... :P

Ever been stalked? I dunno for certain that I have been or not... Why would anyone stalk me?

Do you ever look people up on the internet, people you just met or wish to know more about without them knowing you're so interested? Do you ever resort to finding out more about people by doing a Google or Yahoo search on their names to see what comes up, instead of directly contacting them for more info? Secret admirer? Crazy/jealous/envious fan? Hater looking for trash? Biter looking for fodder?

I don't do it. It might not be full-fledged stalking, but I don't consider it normal, sane behavior either.

I cry once a month. Right before the cycle restarts, I have moments during which I realize how truly alone and singular I am.

Once a month isn't too often.

...or search for someplace to give and get a whole lotta love?

As creativity dwindles, what am I to do? Is it possible to re-cultivate or reactivate it? Or is it not, and should I just accept the dwindling and find something else to do with the rest of my life? Such as... simply experience things? Work on accumulating things or prolonging life? Create new life?

Ever since Sunday nite, I've had a renewed interest in living in the City. Maybe not specifically in San Francsico. Maybe any popular, bustling, culturally rich city. The interest returned after I watched Kissing Jessica Stein, a movie I'd recommend you watch if you are a girl wondering if she could ever do bisexuality. The story took place in New York.

I see the City as a place wherein things are taking place that I'm interested in being a part of, but don't currently do because I don't have similarly interested friends with whom to do them. I see the City as a place full of artists and musicians, quirky and intellectually stimulating... I see where I live now, in suburbia, as a place full of computers geeks and outdoor sports buffs, lazy and laidback...

When was the last time I watched a musical, or sat through a performance by an orchestra or dance troupe? When was the last time I went to a film festival? When was the last time I evaluated/critiqued a piece of art, or a literary work, or a musical or artistic performance with anyone? Where are all the people who would do these things with me?

In the City! That's what I figure... and I'm not there. I have to get myself out there. I have to find a way "in" with those people... Maybe I can do so remotely? I can't move outta this area for awhile...

When I have the extra money to spend on such things, I'm going to sign myself up for dance classes. I love dancing. I get so much out of it. I wanna get good, and I wanna get on stage. I'm a little concerned about the sweating, though. Those dancers on stage at clubs don't seem to sweat much at all. Their bodies don't glisten and their faces don't shine. Not like mine do. It's sickening how much I sweat sometimes.

I am never home.

I was home briefly yesterday... long enough to see that Pedro returned. Not long enough to say hi or happy birthday to him. The only reason I know it was his birthday is that it's written in on the calendar in the bathroom we share.

Yeah, I avoid my roommates. I feel bad walking out of the house several times a day, always in a hurry, seeing one or two of them sitting on the couch in front of the TV in the living room by the front door... never inviting them out to dinner with me or to the places I go... rushing out with a hurried, "How's it goin? See ya later."

I wonder if they're as conscious of my absence as I am of it. I wonder if they care that I'm there so infrequently. Are they disappointed that I'm not more social than I am? Or do they not expect more from me... 'cuz I haven't known them for as long as they've known each other, or 'cuz I'm the oddball or the misfit of the bunch, or 'cuz I'm Asian?

It seems kinda too late to say happy birthday, but I should just do it... if I see him at all today. Not saying anything seems inconsiderate and avoidant, and sending him an e-card seems equally anti-social.

*Sigh* The awkwardness at home continues because I'm unwilling to put out an effort to change things...

$20 cover charge. $30 on drinks and bottles of water for others. Three hours of thigh-busting, ankle-cramping dancing, one mixed drink and 2 or 3 (can't remember) shots, 3 new zits, 2 eyelid rashes later... being designated driver for the third drinking episode in a row and witnessing 45 minutes of drunken puking from a relatively rare sober third person point of view... priceless.

I gotta re-issue a hearty thank you to all of you who've ever taken care of drunk Jennie in the past. I never really realized how quickly time passes when sitting on a curb letting it all out all over the pavement...

"Here's to oblivion!" Er... here was.

I can't fucking fit my pants anymore. So tight. I'm pissed...

I've gained a couple pounds. I wonder where it all went... probably my ass.

Universal humor? I didn't find this joke funny at all. But I found the rest of the article a little bit interesting.

I don't seem to find many things that people say funny. What's a lot funnier, and what fails less often to make me laugh, is the way people act. Human nature, my understanding of it and how I see it reflected by other people, is funny.

I love to laugh. I'd like to laugh more. I'd like to develop a better sense of humor.

If I was a Queen, and I had a kingdom, I would give you half of it if you could daily make me laugh to my heart's content. Genuinely. And no cheating by tickling me...

One of my housemates, Pedro, has been out of town for about two weeks now... and it's been nice without him around. I've had the bathroom to myself, and I haven't had to worry as much about making too much noise in my room. His room is right next to mine.

Apparently, I talk loudly. I type loudly. I shuffle around in here loudly. I listen to my music loud. Maybe I even breathe loudly. People, roommates/housemates, say so... I'm not aware of my own volume. I try to be considerate... but I must be a little deaf. People say I can't whisper...

I say the walls here at my place are too thin. The condo is cheaply built. The condo and the complex as a whole look sharp from the outside. Once you step inside, you notice the scrappy carpet, the shoddy paint job, the bad tiling and spackling, the inferior quality of the other materials used to hold the place together. After you see the inside, the outside starts to appear tawdry too. Heh... Sound like anyone you know?

Incidently, around noon today I drove down to the old office to give my co-worker my bottle of 5HTP. She had dropped over the weekend, and the aftermath wasn't pretty... She felt like shit yesterday, hadn't eaten or slept since Saturday, was nauseous, coldsweating, the works...

Times are tough at work, especially these days. She's had double the workload since I've left the office.... and in the face of layoffs, she can't afford to lose any concentration and underproduce.

She's 30, looks 27 or younger. Single and looking to settle down. Smart girl, street-smart and intelligent. Good-looking, tall, leggy, crystal blue eyes and long blond hair. She's got enough going for her, and she doesn't need this shit.

Even before I found out she was dropping this weekend, I'd planned on giving away the bottle of 5HTP. I will not be needing it again. Cleaning out my closet... I do not plan on ever dropping again. Not unless I find out I have less than 6 months to live...

Misinformed? I would have to guess YES.

All that I may have ever said that could have been translated into "someone is not good for someone else" had to do with Ecstasy... the introduction of it to certain people, the pressure on others to try it, the hype, the side-effects, related issues, etc... Those things aren't good for anyone. It may have been a wonderful, beautiful thing to experience at least once... and it was for myself. But in the grand scheme of things, it's not good. It's some bad shit... not just because of the health risks, but also because it creates interpersonal problems (quite apparently). I didn't know this six months ago, but I very well do now. And I hope pushers stop pushing (not that I know any personally), but they won't... and I don't try to stop them. I just say what I think about Ecstasy when prompted. I've been trying to say this for over a month, ever since I skipped out on Cyberfest and formed a new opinion about the whole dropping scene. Maybe I haven't been clear enough... or bold enough to come right out and just say it straight...

My apologies... if that is the case.

And my apologies too to Nadeem, who hates personal blog communication...

Sometimes the obvious is asked or begged to be re-iterated. Sometimes people care enough to respond to other people's pleas for help and input. Sometimes the truth is twisted into an ugly piece of shit that comes out of an equally ugly mouth. Sometimes people put that shit into other people's mouths... or they forcefeed it to someone else. Sometimes people should just shut-the-fuck-up and try to look at things from a broader perspective on their own... not bleed in public, ask for bandaids, then throw them back into the unwilling good-samaritan's face.

Sometimes people need to give it all up and drug up on Prozac... especially if they can't understand what I'm saying.

It's so simple.

DON'T FUCKING DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU HEAR. AND DON'T FUCKING TRUST ANYONE WHOSE MOUTH IS BIGGER THAN HIS/HER BRAIN.

HOLY SHIT.

Out of morbid curiosity, I took this stupid test. (Shouldn't have.)

You are the ravest of dance parties, a must for the all night rave! Exciting company you make people feel sexy, sensuality and generally ecstatic. You make people feel close, at one with each other but can also make people feel nauseaous and anxious.If you spend alot of time with someone they tend to be hallucinating, they cant see clearly and feel like they are getting carried away with you. When you spend way too much time with people you fuck up their brain, heart and liver. However, after spending a wopping wonderful night with you, the next day people get deppressed thinking of you and how much they miss you. They get love sick and dont want to eat, they cant sleep, they feel sore in their muscles and cant concentrate for very long as they dream of when they will spend an exhilarating time with you again on the dance floor at the very next rave party. Fortunately for people, the more they see of you the more they realise how bad you are and eventually they don't see much of you anymore.

Rankings:

#1: ecstasy
#2: alcohol
#3: crystalmethlamphetamine
#4: LSD
#5: amphetamine
#6: magic mushrooms
#7: hash
#8: marijuana
#9: viagra
#10: cocaine
#11: barbituates
#12: rohypnol
#13: prozac
#14: anithistamine
#15: coffee
#16: crack
#17: dietpills
#18: valium
#19: steroids
#20: nicotine
#21: heroin

If this test is supposed to tell me anything significant or revealing about myself, it failed miserably. But it was mildly amusing.