There are always those people, who, even years after they've graduated from college, don't seem to be able to stop thinking and talking about their college days and all things related to their institutes of higher education. They continue live and breathe their alma maters, long after the thought of frat and dorm antics, all-nighters, lab projects, binge-drinking, and female undergrads should inspire juicy and nostalgic fantasies and conversations.

It's as if their lives began and ended in college. And those times they had there were the best of times that they can remember and talk about. The memories are so fond they seem to bear repeating over and over, year after year...

News to those people... It's old. You're old. (I'm old too.) Find some new stories. Make some new significant memories already. Move on and get on with post-collegiate life!

Well, I guess I could/should just shrug off their talk... No real harm done to me, right?

A couple weeks ago, my cousin, Doug, saw Better Luck Tomorrow and created his own original ending to the movie that I'd like to share with y'all.

'Course, I realize that some of the power of the movie comes from the fact that it doesn't show you the implications or lasting consequences of the guys' ultimate-bad-situation-gone-worse. And the movie ending that way is disturbing the way many other "artsy" movies are or try to be. Still, I think I'd rather have had the last laugh and seen the movie end the way Doug would have it...

I hadn't seen The Big Lebowski until last nite. I think it's a pretty good movie. Great characters. Well-acted. Funny. Very funny in parts. It's one of those movies that would probably kill me by way of ab-busting laughter if I watched it while on pot.

There are actually a couple bridges I would really love to burn too, and when they are gone, I wouldn't give an ounce of fuck either... I'd rejoice.

It's just not that easy to burn bridges while my friends are still be bridged to those people. I don't want be linked to those people anymore, but they'll still have access to me and/or my friends through my friends' bridges.

What to do? I guess, just keep those bridges up, but put up toll booths... so I could at least get something out of keeping them up.

The weekend...

Fri nite. I fit into my favorite jeans for the first time in months. That made my night. We had dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant in PA. I can't remember the name of the entree I ordered, but it tasted quite good (6.5 out of 10). It seemed like very Americanized Mediterranean food, which was completely fine with me. I don't need the authentic stuff if the Americanized version tastes better.

After dinner, I saw Better Luck Tomorrow. Before I saw the movie, I thought it was going to be an "Asian movie"... you know, one of those that uses stereotypical and uniquely Asian characters and Asian situations to expose and/or say something "deep" about Asians, or to amuse an Asian audience through a witty understanding of those Asian stereotypical characters and situations. Many Asian people I know had already seen it or wanted to see it, so it seemed to be a movie made for Asian people, for Asian people to go see in support of fellow Asians...

But it came across to me as more of a regular movie with Asian actors playing the parts that actors of other races would normally play. It seemed intended for a wider audience, though it would benefit and have more esoteric appeal to an Asian audience. As a regular movie, I thought it was just alright (5.5 out of 10). No big deal. Not a novel plot. No twists or real suprises. One of these days, I'll read some other reviews, or try to find out more about the makers and what exactly they were trying to accomplish... though those facts probably wouldn't change my opinion of the movie.

The movie is disturbing the way a lot of other movies with similar plots are disturbing. It's probably a bit more disturbing for Asians than for non-Asians, to see Asian kids in such deep shit. Though it happens all the time, seeing it happen on-screen doesn't happen often. I figure that's part of what the makers meant to convey to the wider audience... that Asian kids are just like every other kids, and can even play the same parts in movies sucessfully.

The makers could've substituted any of the Asian guys in the movie with guys of any other race, and it would've been pretty much the same movie, with pretty much the same impact... to non-Asians. I imagine it's just another (teen) movie to non-Asians. I was talking to a friend about how the makers of the movie didn't have to spend a significant amount of time developing the characters, if they assumed or even aimed for a mainly Asian audience, because the characters are practically self-developing through our (us Asian's) understanding of our own stereotypes. I felt I almost already knew the characters the moment I saw them on-screen.

Right after the movie ended, I thought of a few Asian people I know, who may have gone through similar fucked-up, life-changing moments. I also thought of a time in college when I felt as if I was in a situation in which things had gone way too far, and there could be no good ending (just like in the movie).

So, the movie was at least thought-provoking and got to me because I'm Asian. But if I wasn't Asian, I don't think I would've been more than slightly amused. Ah... I guess that might make an "Asian movie" after all.

Saturday. We BARTed up to the Oakland Coliseum for the A's vs. Indians game. We got there before 10:30am to be one of the first 15k people entering the ballpark to get a Miguel Tejada bobblehead. There were already a ton of people in line (my rough, out-of-the-ass estimate is about 8k) when we arrived, but all six of us got one. By the end of the day, my bobblehead's pointing finger had broken off, and his cap got chipped. He looks like he got into a small skirmish, and is about to punch someone out with his up-raised fist.

Since we were early for the game, we were able to watch the players warming up for awhile. As I watched them, I thought... I wouldn't want to be a star athlete. Too much pressure. Too much exposure. Too many critics. Even your devoted fans curse at you when you make mistakes. That's fame for you... A lot of people see you, a lot of people know about you and the things you do. You don't see most of them, and you don't know anything about them. They think they really know you, when they really don't. But they treat you as if they know your kind. They've typecast you. They think they can extrapolate who you really are from what is publically circulated about you. That's wrong, and it sucks. The famous are martyrs... on display for our entertainment and pleasure, while we turn them into icons for both worship and contempt.

Eight of us tailgated before the game began. The guy with the car and the grill hooked us up with a variety of Top Dog dogs. Yummy. I forgot my sunglasses, so my eyes got sunburned a bit during the game. But the A's won, and I got my cotton candy, so I was happy.

After the game, we headed over to one of the guy's place for hamburgers. One of the other guys there is married, and his wife didn't know what MILF is. She guessed, "Ewww... is it jizz?" ... and I felt sorry for her hubby. We played poker after dinner. I've lost interest in most games aside from Texas Hold 'Em. We played tournament-style for a change. I got to go "all in" a couple of times.

Sunday. Got my hair highlighted. I'd been putting it off for months, waiting for sunny days and more-money days. Raymond didn't do my highlights exactly the way I originally wanted, but they don't look bad. It's really these little things that make a huge difference, sometimes. I feel more like me now, with highlights, than I did without them.

I shopped for some shoes at Valley Fair Mall. Didn't find anything to buy, and I believe the problem is more now knowing exactly what I'm looking for than not seeing anything I want. That's usually the problem for me when it comes to such things as shoes. When it comes to men, it's much more often the other way around.

After dinner, we watched Friends and Survivor on TiVo. We also watched The Transporter on DVD. The woman in the movie was probably wearing hair extensions, and that butt in wet underwear was definitely not hers.

Before I went to sleep, I got some great sex. Wore him all out.

All weekend, I thought about how stuff that happened a year ago Saturday nite set the stage for how where I am now and how happy I am now.

The thing I've realized (after being pucked in the shin last week while playing rollerhockey, and after I had my wisdom teeth removed this week) is that I actually have quite a high pain threshold.

When you've lived most of your 20+ years of life without the people who are now very close to you, how do you feel when you catch glimpses of their past, the things they've experienced in their past... without you?

Some people were totally different people in the years before you entered their lives. Sometimes it's hard to connect who they are now with who they were then. Sometimes it's hard to figure out how much of their past is still with them, or how it might affect you... or how much you should take note of their past in present and in the future.

I guess you just trust. Trust who they are now that you've allowed into your heart... and hope that trust, openness, and honesty will be rewarded with trust, openness, and honesty in return.

If any of you still need to have your wisdom teeth removed, and/or you don't have a dentist yet or want a better one, and you live in the Mountain View area, try my uncle (ask me for his info). I highly recommend him. He's very good.

Today's the fourth day, and I haven't felt very much pain since the procedure. No swelling at all. I took 2 Advils on the first day and none since. No Vicodin. No Penicillin.

And I lost a pound.

I got an A+ in English 1A at Cal too. (Spring semester, '94)

I don't remember that much about that class. One of the books we read was The Bluest Eye, by Toni Morrison. And I met my first Cal friend in that class. I had a huge crush on him for about a year.

While on the rag, I feel robbed... robbed of about five days of (regular) sex. *sigh* Guys are fortunate. No mandatory downtime.

Whoa. You experience sleep paralysis too! And we both blogged about it on the same day, after learning more about it over the weekend. Kinda strangely coincidental... but quite comforting at the same time.

The bleeding has slowed. I had a can of Boost Nutritional Drink several hours ago. I'm still hungry. I'm going to go make myself some Jello now.

I had the #6 from Taco Bell for dinner last night. I realized that I regularly eat the same portions as a 175lb, 5'10" male. I must cut down.

I finally went snowboarding on Saturday. It was fun, but not that fun. Northstar's got no real black diamond runs. I didn't notice that before.

I was a cheapass and didn't buy a helmet, so I didn't try more than two jumps. I hit my head pretty hard doing the first one, and my neck still hurts from that. My toes are also sore because my boots are a size too small, and I have to curl my toes inside them... which hurts like a bitch when I'm toe-ing. Not much else is sore. I don't get that great a workout when I snowboard because I never fall, and I don't carve much to slow myself down because I want to go nearly full-speed down, and I stop regularly to wait for my friends.

I'm not sure if I'll ever enjoy snowboarding as much as I used to. The thrill is gone. It's just another expensive all-day group activity, like river-rafting, that isn't worth the trouble (cost, long drive, sunburn, etc.) to do that often. Most of the people I go up with are still just trying to get down the mountain. Maybe I need to board with better snowboarders, and try boarding between trees, or learn moguls, or the jumps and the halfpipe, and other tricks.

The eight of us stayed at the Golden Phoenix in Reno on Saturday night. Mistake. You do not want to stay there. Stay at the Sands Regency if you want something cheap but decent. We had the buffet dinner at El Dorado. The prime rib, au jus, was the best thing they served. I love the stuff.

During dinner, we talked about dreams. A mystery was solved for me. I had two horrible dream-like experiences last May while in NYC (I blogged about them), that I now know are not uncommon. Such experiences are common during sleep paralysis (more info here and here). After falling asleep, I suddenly became conscious of something black and heavy with a death grip on my mind and body, stifling the life out of me. I tried to struggle out of its grasp and breathe and scream for help, but couldn't move and couldn't make any noise. I thought I was really fighting for my life, and I was going to die. The fact that I finally came out of the experience made me want to believe I had been dreaming, though I'd felt awake the entire time and could see the outlines of the things around me in the dark room.

I try not to hold the paranormal responsible for these types of experiences. And now that I finally have a scientific explanation for what I went through, I can rest a lot easier... literally. I hope that if I ever have the experience again, I'll remember what it is during... and be able to snap out of it and avoid the fear and agony.

On Sunday, we went to Altantis for a poker tournament. Two of our friends were in it, and one of them won it.

I wonder when I'll be up in Reno again. Probably not just to gamble. Probably not until the summer, if I plan to go mountain biking at Northstar...

Now the numbness is almost gone. I feel some pain now. The worst part so far has been swallowing my own blood. It tastes really nasty. There hasn't been any swelling, thank goodness. It sucks when you feel bad and you also look bad.

I just got all four of my wisdom teeth removed this morning.

No pain yet. I went with the local anesthesia, and I don't regret that so far. I couldn't feel the teeth being taken out. I closed my eyes during the whole procedure 'cuz I knew if I saw the needle, knives, pliers, blood, teeth, I'd freak out. While the anesthesia was being administered, a few tears seeped out from under my lids. I couldn't hold them back. I was trembling a little too. After the procedure, I asked the dentist's assistant if most people find the administration of the anesthesia painful, and she said that most people react the same way I did.

I would like to be able to walk into any store, restaurant, bar, club, any venue, any scene, and be able to easily identify the type of music that is playing within. I will work on being able to do this.

I usually wake up before the alarm clock goes off. I don't get up the first time because he isn't ready to get up. I hit snooze about 4 times over a 30-minute period of time. I'm the one that has to hit it because I sleep on that side of the bed. Sometimes I don't like having that responsibility. I don't like getting out of my comfy positions because that makes it harder for me to get any sleep within the 30-mins. I always debate whether to just get up before him or just continue lying in bed relaxed and warm and gratified.

This morning, I got out of bed first because I needed to find out if his folding table would fit in my car before it was time for him to leave the house to catch the train. The table was a little bit heavier than I thought it would be. It hurt to hold it by the rims for long because the edges on the inside of the metal part that runs along the bottom sides of the table are sharp. The table fit in my car pretty easily. I knew it would. He'd doubted.

Back in the house, I got dressed and applied some blush and a little bit of eyeshadow because I knew I was going to be going to lunch with some friends at 11:30. I re-packed my overnight bag. I always feel as if I have too much to carry to and from his place. I always feel inconvenienced. I didn't have time to eat breakfast at the house, and grabbed a breakfast bar to eat at my place before we left.

I was glad to find my space in the garage at my place vacant. Sometimes one of my roommates parks in my space, but I let that slide. It's no big deal to me, and definitely not worth possibly starting an argument over, especially since I only have one and a half months left at the place. The first thing I brought up was the desk. I had to carry it up four flights of stairs. I got dust all over my clothes, and I sweated a little... which was ok because I didn't plan on wearing those clothes to lunch.

One of my roommates was home. I heard her talking on the phone when I passed the den. I wasn't sure if she saw me carrying up the table. She wasn't supposed to know I'd given the glass desk to my other roommate. I had inherited the desk from the guy who lived in my room before I moved in. My other roommate had emailed the other guy a couple months ago to find out if he could have the desk. He wanted to take the desk just to screw my other roommate over, who he doesn't like. Since I figured she saw me take the table up and would figure out I don't have the desk anymore, I emailed her about it to let her know what's up. She emailed back and said it's alright because she talked to the former roommate today and he'd said he told my roommate he could have the desk 'cuz he had a debt to pay back.

After I set up the table and finished re-organizing the stuff that had been on top and below the desk, I turned on the computer. I checked my work email first. I ate the breakfast bar. I also took my birth control pill an hour late, but that won't matter. After I took care of some personal email, I checked the final standings within the Fantasy NBA game I was in this season. My team was in 6th place (out of 12), with 59.5 points. Two teams were tied for 5th place with 60 points. I'm irked about that. I could've tied for 5th place if one of the other teams in the game hadn't robbed me of .5 point last week in the FG stat. I'd been in first place in FG until then.

Then I got a call from my roommate's sister, who recently bought a house and was wondering if I'd be interested in renting one of the bedrooms. I'd driven by the location yesterday, and emailed her about my interest in seeing the room. She told me the house is currently being renovated. I told her I could check it out around 7pm this Monday. My roommate had said the room is going for 750/mo. Once I take a look at the room, if it looks good I'll offer to pay $575, not including bills, or $600 for both the rent and all of the bills. I wouldn't pay more than that, since I have other cheaper options.

At 10:30, I didn't have any more work to do. I haven't washed the exterior since December of last year. The interior hasn't been vacuumed and dusted since last summer. I planned on getting both the inside and outside cleaned at Ducky's car wash in either San Mateo or San Carlos because I received a coupon in the mail for the service a couple months ago. I'd been waiting for some free time to go. I had free time today. I took out all the stuff in my trunk and put it off to the side in the garage. I used Yahoo maps to find out which location was closer. I was getting ready to head out to the San Mateo Ducky's when I glanced at the expiration date on the coupon. 4/15/03. Damnit. I was so looking forward to driving a clean car. I guess I'll wait until another coupon to comes in the mail. I put all my stuff back in my trunk.

My brother's girlfriend IMed me to talk for a bit. I wanted to keep the conversation short. I'm not sure I want to get in the middle of their affairs.

I found out from my friend that one of the people that was going have lunch with us couldn't make it, so we rescheduled lunch for 12:30. I wanted to head out of the house at least 20 minutes before lunch with my friends so that I could stop by Long's Drugs to pick up some toilet paper, turn in some 5- or 6-year-old negatives to make a few reprints, and submit a prescription for some lotion that I was prescribed to help fade the light scars left behind by my poison oak rash. I ended up going out wearing the same clothes I had on earlier, but I didn't neglect curling my eyelashes before I left. I left about 10 minutes later than I meant to. I tried to take a dump before I left the house but couldn't. I hadn't had enough for breakfast. I got the toilet paper at Long's, but didn't have time to submit the prescription.

I drove into downtown San Mateo. The apartments on the right side of 3rd street are nearly done. Construction always seems to be completed in much less time than I expect. I parked in the open lot next to the huge, new covered parking structure that was erected for the new movie theater. I was on time.

I had lunch with my friend and her boyfriend at Happy Cafe. I was super hungry by the time I got there. I ordered wonton noodle soup for myself. It was tasty but salty, and I made sure to drink a lot of tea. We talked about go-karting and cars. She is thinking of sell her 1-year-old Passat, and buying a used stick-shift.... something more like my Integra GS-R. We talked about his hair. It's jet-black, almost shoulder-length, and layered. He got it permed straight, and now people tell him he looks like one of the guys who's part of a famous group of four Taiwanese guys. The group rings a bell, and I mentioned that I think I may have seen them in a Karaoke video a year ago. I'm probably wrong. I always fail the fob test.

We talked about people we know. They work at Siebel, and I know a few other people who work there. The name of a guy who I met last Thursday while playing poker came up. When he'd taken off his sweater or jacket that night, BAM! Suddenly, there were his huge arms. They think he's good-looking, but I disagree. We laughed about one of their other co-workers who's been trying to get me to go out on a date with him. I'd seen him only twice in my life, over lunch with these two and some other people. He'd made no impression on me. My friend told me that I should send him a clear "I'm not interested" message. I almost sent him a 3-word email, but instead wrote him subtly hinting at a significant other in my life.

After lunch, the two headed over to pick up some pearl tea. I really wanted some, but I was somehow able to resist the urge. Driving home, I decided to try something new and blog about nearly everything I've done today so far.

I learned how to kinda play one song on the bass last night. The bass part is slow, and there are only six notes to play. It was still fun. It's a start.

My brother.

We were best friends for the first 10 or so years of his life. He never left home.

I worry that he will never move out. That he will never be integrated into the real world successfully. That he will forever be the hurt little boy who watched his happy childhood crumble, who sits at home year after year, waiting and hoping for things to be restored to the way they were.

I have a lot to say about him. I'm overwhelmed with empathy and the feelings associated with the things I have to say.

My lower left wisdom tooth has been hurting again. I'm going to call the dentist today to finally get on the road to removing all four of my wisdom teeth.

I'm still very afraid of the pain and the possibility of death by general anesthesia. I'm beginning to think I should just go with local anesthesia, and let the gore of the procedure itself knock me unconscious. I'm so squeamish.

I kinda like the idea of forcing myself to face my fear of pain and blood. I'm hoping to get over it so that I can at least take needles without freaking out. I imagine having my wisdom teeth cut and wrenched out of my mouth won't be even close to the worst of it I'm going to bear children someday.

I love how he holds my hand while we sleep.

I find it freaking annoying when people suddenly come up from behind me while I'm sitting at my desk at work to talk to me about trivial, non-work-related things. More often than not, they startle me. I startle very easily, and I really hate being startled. The sudden pang of fear physically feels bad.

Even if people are just trying to be social, I don't like the fact that they're barging in on me and whatever I'm doing on my laptop uninvited. They could choose to catch me in the breakroom, or drop by when my manager is not sitting a couple feet away from me. The entire building is quite quiet most of the time, so desk-side conversations can be heard by many. I dislike being forced to be rude.

We played poker last nite... Texas hold'em for about five and a half hours.

Everytime I play poker, I continue to play poker in my dreams when I go to sleep. I am not a very superstitious person. I don't (currently) believe dreams are supernatural visions or channels for the spirit world.

I believe the ability to dream evolved to aid our survival. I haven't read much about dreams, but I'm sure that all of this has already been postulated....

I believe... Dreams help define and fuel our intuitions. They temper our moods so that we are able to take care of necessary business when we wake. They can complete our learning experiences from the conscious day. Unresolved issues from the day back may be brought back into our consciousness through dreams, prompting us to resolve them sooner than later. Or these issues may be resolved within our subconsciousness so that we are freed from dealing with them during consciousness.

Perhaps some people are able to dream more beneficially than others. People whose dreams are more effective in helping them adjust to and balance within conscious life, mentally and emotionally, ultimately fare better in society and survive to pass on the trait. Perhaps in the future, dreams will play an even more recognized and prominent role in therapy and the healing of malignancies.

So DREAM ON!

I guess it still boils down to this.

Don't fucking tell me to look for a new job. You don't think I'd be doing that right now, 24/7, if I could? You don't think I'm already trying to better my own situation? I need to know first what I can do that will earn me more money. If you know, if you can help, why don't you help??

More often than not, I'd prefer to know what I'm missing.

Why opt for ignorance?

Especially, if I could know how good it gets, why not know? While knowing, there will still be room for pleasant surprise.

I believe it's in my best interests to know exactly what it is that I don't have and haven't experienced. The more I know about the things I don't have and haven't experienced, the better able I'd be to make an educated decision regarding whether I really want those things and whether to pursue them.

Even in the cases that I could never have or never experience something, I'd still like to know enough about it to be able to reason out for myself why I really don't need it. I'd like to know all of my options as well as my non-options.

Tell me, what may I have missed, so far, in this life?

I never went to prom. My lame little HS didn't even have a prom.

The first time a guy tried to feel me up, I didn't put up any resistance. And when my first boyfriend tried to have sex with me, he got lucky.

It all started out so unromantically for me.

I hope it doesn't also end that way. I really would like a taste of romance sometime between now and the end of my life.

I shouldn't have started discussing salaries here.

Well, these days I'm torn about what to post here and what not to post here. This blog has turned into something like an anti-journal -- where I put up specific things that I want to share with a known public, instead of private reflections I want to document for myself and an unknown or nonexistent audience.

I kinda want to take it back, take back this blog...

Ok. I exaggerated a bit. But seriously, I believe that less than half the people I know are earning less than I am... 'cuz most of them are tech workers.

Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things... Just be kind and try not to plan get-togethers and birthday dinners that end up costing more than $25 per person, please!

My adjusted gross income for 2002 is $45,496.

That might seem like a lot to some, but to most of you, it's fiddlesticks. I imagine that 80-90% of the people I know and hang out with here in the Bay Area earn more than twice that amount.

Still, I'm proud of myself for how far I've come, how much I've recovered, in the last two years. I got a small raise toward the end of last year, to compensate for becoming an independent contractor. I should gross a little more this year, if I manage to keep this job and/or get a higher-salary job.

I managed to hold on to two of my dreams from last nite.

In the first one, there was a place of business where groups of couples could go and pay for the women of each couple to participate in striptease contests, while the men determined the winner. You'd make an appointment for your group, and the place supplied the room, clothing, and props. Six of us (three couples) did this thing together. We were all good friends, and somehow that made us comfortable with each other stripping in front of and lapdancing on top of each other's men. I was handed a plasticky turquoise bra to wear that pushed up my boobs up so that they looked huge. Once the contest started, I felt fat compared to the other two, and kinda just gave up trying to win. The woman who won had really long legs on a slim and nicely toned body, and she really knew how to move.

In the second one, I was in combat. I was wearing the appropriate garb and had a really big gun. A dozen of us were fighting on a hill for some time, and then in a city. There were a lot of enemy soldiers on the rooftops, raining bullets down into the streets. I was scooting along the walls and in between pillars and other such structures. (Sounds so videogame-ish, huh?) I was pretty scared. I got hit a couple of times while running from one location to another, and I eventually fell behind. I was on my own with another straggler. I was even more freaked out after we lost the group, realizing now that being gunned down was probably inevitable. I hid in areas for some time, while trying to gather up the courage to progress forward. I'd see someone on the street and point and shoot before I realized that I was shooting at some of my own people. Luckily, I had really bad aim, and didn't hit any of them. Some other things happened that I can't remember...

Then the dream shifted over to the perspective of one of the guys on my side. He was suspended and trapped in a strangely shaped room. The whole room was like a puzzle. An enemy woman, who was sort of like the big boss, was quizzing him, giving him both mental puzzles and physically challenging puzzles to solve. The interior parts of the room would move and/or change shape, kind of like a kaleidoscope, whenever he gave an answer. In the end, somehow, he solved all the puzzle and freed himself, and the woman disappeared. The guy turned out to be some sort of savior/god, and our side won the battle.

The other thing that bothers me, almost as much as getting older bothers me, is the fact that I can no longer express myself through music.

Playing the piano was the one thing I was really good at in this life up until now. You'll just have to trust me on that because I'll probably never be able to prove it to you. I stopped playing after highschool, and now my skills are all but gone. I can't call myself a pianist anymore. And that sucks.

I'm constantly plagued with an urge to emote through a musical instrument or through song. I miss doing that so much. I need to put an end to the misery soon. Somehow. And not just by planning on marrying a rockstar. :)

It used to be that it was more comfortable hanging out with the single people... 'cuz they weren't always gazing into their significant other's eyes, whispering into each other's ears, holding each other's hands and touching each other all over, acting too grown-up sometimes or acting like babies... as if none of the rest of us were there.

Coupled people just weren't very accessible, and that took away a lot from my relationships with them... back then.

Now, the tides have changed. It's much less comfortable hanging out with the single people... 'cuz you know they all have the same thing on their minds... finding a special someone to hold them, to fuck them, to understand them, to love them, to give them meaning... someone.

Hang out with those single people, and I pick up on their pain, their loneliness and emptiness, their frustration and worry, etc. They make me feel bad. I feel worse for them than I feel for myself.

I wish I could help them, but I can't. I mean, really... what can I do? I can't even tell them "oh, you'll find someone someday," because that isn't going to be true for everyone. Some people will never find someone. Some of those people may be some of my friends.

Sometimes it's such a damn burden being an empath...

Some days, I am too conscious of looking older, and it depresses me. I can see how my body and face are changing in the mirror. I used to look at old pictures of myself to remember times past and what I looked like when I was younger. Now, I'm reluctant to look, and I'm reluctant to take new pictures.

I wonder if there is a group of people who are attracted to the opposite sex as a member of the opposite sex... like women who are attracted to gay men, not heterosexually, but homosexually, as a gay man. So they're gay, but they're not gay the way others are gay. Are there more than a few people like that?

If I could be reincarnated as a guy, I'd opt to be reincarnated as a gay guy... or at least a bi-sexual guy.

I've had some alcohol, and this isn't really a well thought-out thought... and maybe if I thought about it more, I'd choose differently. I do realize that being female (and therefore being attracted to guys in general) is also clouding my judgement.

A bunch of us went to The Cafe tonite. I'd never been to a bar like that before. There was no cover to get in, the bartender served me up a super strong cranberry vodka drink, there weren't that many women there, and the music sucked. But those things aside, there was just something really really hot about being there. I wasn't sure who was straight and who wasn't, and I guess that was part of the beauty of it.

The gay guys were quite attractive and enticing. They seemed to have an above-average and enticing sexual aura. They're fascinating. I was also turned on just imagining my man surrounded by gay men, possibly being looked over by gay men... imagining him being approached or even touched by gay men.

We left kinda early. Some of us were a less amused than I was. I'd definitely go again.

Have you noticed that whenever cute chix crack jokes that aren't funny at all, the guys will still laugh heartily each and every time. And whenever ugly chix make jokes, their jokes always seem really funny, and everyone laughs.

And then there's me... I'll make a joke every now and then that I think is at least mildly funny, and I can't get even a forced chuckle. I get the drums and the cymbal... boom-boom-crash!

I've never been a funny gal, and I don't think being funny is really a skill one can develop over time (unless you're a cute girl, and you can be/do more than the average person). Wit, on the other hand, is something I think one can work on. I guess I could try to learn to be witty. It would be cool to be able to make you laugh, think, be inspired all at once.

Invade me.

I've decided to resist it. If I could postpone woman and get a year more of girl, that would be perfect.

H**S***Y***: what i seek
H**S***Y***: is the quiet comfort
H**S***Y***: of being in someone's company
H**S***Y***: and feeling like you are understood
H**S***Y***: without saying a thing
H**S***Y***: i seek a mature partnership and companionship
H**S***Y***: where every one of our days
H**S***Y***: will be like Sunday..
H**S***Y***: in June
H**S***Y***: I actually think that's possible.
H**S***Y***: its not as exciting as being swept off your feet
H**S***Y***: nor does it have the drama...
H**S***Y***: I have been on both sides... I think.
H**S***Y***: and honestly, most of my relationships develop fairly quickly...
H**S***Y***: so I don't think its a question of sparkiness.
H**S***Y***: but sometimes
H**S***Y***: the candle that burns twice as bright
H**S***Y***: only lasts half as long...
H**S***Y***: I don't want to be burned
H**S***Y***: I just want to stay warm
H**S***Y***: that's all.
H**S***Y***: I guess, I am simple that way.

Me too, my friend... me too.

I have to admit, I'm a bit tempted to respond to a few of these guys who've emailed me. I'm still unwilling to pay to reply.

It's exciting enough to have been contacted. It's fun reading what people have to say about themselves, the brief summaries of their current lives, their hopes, their intentions... though I tend to think that most of them are better on paper than they are in the flesh.

Maybe I've already accomplished enough. I'm glad to discover that this is a viable option for me, in case I needed more options... and to find out that there are a lot of guys of seemingly decent enough calibre out there for me to get to know. Maybe that's all I really wanted at this time.

And now I can take down my profile and resume regular programming...

Where have they been all my life?

I'm talking about electric toothbrushes. I started using one yesterday. It's quite pleasurable.... a vibrator for the teeth and gums. Why didn't I start using one of these sooner? Poverty, and I considered it a luxury item that I could do without. But now I'm convinced that when it comes to my health, I shouldn't be such a scrooge.

Holy sh*t! Another nine in just 2 and a half hours. It's raining men!

Wahhh... I've got mail. Already! I've been contacted by four pps from Match.com. Gosh, these emails are entertaining. It's interesting how guys market themselves...

So for the hell of it, I went to Match.com an hour ago and created a profile (bittersweetie_58). The hardest part of creating the profile was filling out the narrative describing myself. I put in something shoddy... so I could quickly move on to checking out my matches.

It's funny how many people consider themselves athletic, average, or just a few pounds heavy who are full-fledged fat. I clicked on 3 or 4 profiles with pictures. Only one of them sparked some interest. The guy seem creative and intelligent. Maybe he's just good with words. I imagine the guys that can actually write have such an advantage using these types of services. Anyhow, this guy seemed like the type I'd like to get to know. I clicked on "Email me," and got a page that says to contact him I have to pay $24.95 for a month of service.

Fuck that. I'm not yet ready to pay for potential dates.

But I kinda just ran out of work to do, damnit. Back to the ol' preoccupations...

My work ethic's gone back up in the last couple of months. I've been spending more time working and less time IMing and surfing the internet and while I'm at the office.

Focusing on work for longer periods of time is comforting because keeps me from thinking about all of the things I might be missing while at the office because time is passing so quickly and I'm getting old.

Maybe one of these days, I'll actually start loving working... and that'll be the rest of my life. Maybe not such a bad end. I'll have become just one of the many people who've discovered comfort in turning over their lives to work in an attempt to add meaning, or to escape meaninglessness, or to avoid the trouble of finding another purpose for their lives.