I want to give. Is there anything I have that you want from me? Is there anything that I can do for you? What is it?

I'd like to have a boyfriend like that... who'd get me interested in current events and matters and discuss them with me.

Well damn. I'd like to have a boyfriend period.

I know I'm better than this.

I feel crushed by the competition due to not enough ambition and a lack of motivation and interest on my part.

I feel like running away (yet again). But, of course, running away is just a cop-out. Just like death. It won't really get me anywhere. Anything other than staying right where I am now and facing the music is a cop-out.

Am I going through something? Something typical for my age and gender? Or species in general? Later-20s crisis? Not really a crisis. More like a transition of sorts. The transition to ordinary or great? Or the transition from girl to woman who wants to get married and have some children to nuture?

Is the problem that I'm resisting the transition? I don't think I am. Is it fear? Probably. Well, it always is.

I didn't accomplish much up in Tahoe this weekend. I meant to gamble, and I meant to snowboard. I did neither.

I'm still not able to gamble. I thought I'd be able to this time, since I've been playing poker. But I just couldn't do it. I stood and watched all my friends lose a lot of money in a short amount of time playing blackjack and craps. Watching people lose money doesn't bother me like it used to. Maybe next time I'll try to drop some money in the poker room. Looks like a slower bleed in there.

I was just a little bit disappointed that I didn't get to snowboard this time. I'll go in two weeks or so... when the snow is even crappier. That'll teach me not to buy a Tahoe card next year.

While on the way up and down, the four of us in the car played a movie/actor game. The first person names an actor, and the next person must name a movie that the actor was in as well as another actor in the same movie. The person after that person must do the same. Movies and actors can't be used more than once. You can pass if you can't answer. I was passing 90% of the time. I always suck at games that involve knowledge of facts from the 70s, 80s, and 90s. Hell, I suck at all games that involve knowledge of general, even significant, facts prior to all years before the later-90s.

Whenever I play these games, I mourn the fact that my brother and I spent our entire childhoods in what now seems like a bomb shelter. Our parents did their best not to let the outside world make any marks on our impressionable little minds. As a result, I was utterly clueless about pop culture until I was able to drive... and then I was less than utterly clueless, but still pitifully clueless. I wasn't in the habit of keeping up with and remembering such things, and it was hard to start.

Makes me wonder what was occupying my mind during all of this, while all these facts were being created and presented... Delusions? I know so fucking little. So what should I do about that now? Try to learn all the facts that everyone else knows? Would knowing all those things make me a better person?

So while the guys were chatting away the weekend, I spent a lot of it within my own mind... which isn't unusual.

I can't bowl over 90. The harder I try, the worse I get. Tonite was the second time I hung out with my brother's girlfriend, and I met her two younger sisters for the first time. They seem really innocent. They remind me of my world over 15 years ago... though I think they're all over 16.

I had a headache off and on all nite. Not sure whether it was 'cuz of my bowling score (unlikely), 'cuz worried about getting home early to pack for my trip up to Tahoe (not w/ my roommate), or 'cuz my eyes are still hurting from last nite's cry, or 'cuz I hadn't changed my tampon in hours, or 'cuz I had too much salt in my dinner and not enough water, or 'cuz my pants were too tight...

I wonder what would happen if I told myself I could do drugs, maybe smoke some pot, one time in May if I lost about 10lbs by then. I bet it would work. Kinda sad, ain't it, though?

It feels a little bit wrong to be going snowboarding this weekend, having fun while the war is still going on.

I mean, I can do things alone... like shop, dine, read, computer, workout, travel for under 10 days, clean, sightsee, shower, dress, party, etc...

I just can't be without a really really close friend or a boyfriend in my life. With no one that close to me, I feel relatively lifeless, which makes me feel pitiful. I can't handle being alone that way, which makes me feel weak. But maybe I'd rather expend more effort making sure that I'm never alone than learning how to be alone.

The war has depressed me all week. It's made me stressed, cranky, and easily irritated. It's not as bad when, during a morbid phase, I choose to dwell on mortality and death. But I'm quite bothered when I'm forced to think about it... like when people around me (or in my mind) die by accident or unnecessarily.

I can't be alone. I can't be without someone, a close companion.

I have never learned how to be alone. I have not been alone much within the last 10 years. Before then, I was never able to do it without breaking down. And before I was ever alone, I always had someone close...

Now I fear it. I fear the day I am alone again. I keep thinking I need to learn how to be, ahead of time... so that when the time comes, I'll be able to survive it and live through it successfully. I try to prepare myself for that day. Whenever I try, I fail.

I tried last nite. And I cried last nite... because I couldn't do it.

I hate having such a vulnerability. Not being able to be alone is a glaring weakness. But aren't we all allowed a few weaknesses? Maybe this is one of the few I should allow myself. I shouldn't be ashamed that I'm unable to be alone.

Would I become a better person if I was alone or learned how to be alone? I've told myself before that it's a waste of time to try to learn how to be alone if I never have to be alone. Maybe I'll never be alone again.

So I'm back to where I was... I can't be alone.

I am not alone. And I am happy not alone. Why rock my own boat?

I think I am just now crying the tears I should've shed a long, long time ago...

I don't think I can do this anymore. I'm not really sure I know what the hell I'm even doing.

And today is another one of those days.

So my other roommate sent out an email about a month ago about a Tahoe trip at the end of this month. She wanted to rent out a cabin for a weekend and do an all-girl thing. Kinda sounded like fun. I said maybe.

She did rent the cabin. She booked it sometime last week. I told her that I'm not going to be able to make it.

I just received an email from her, apparently sent to eight others:

"Due to the fact that the majority of the group cancelled AFTER I booked the cabin - there is a cancellation fee... I already paid for the rental for the weekend and part of the agreement with the owner is coughing up 1/2 of the price of the rental if there is a last minute cancellation. So the total is $175 that WE are all responsible for... I'm not upset and realize things come up...however we are all adults and I hope that you still have some level of consideration. Please pay me your portion as soon as possible... the total is $16 each... I think that is fair."

I never fucking said I was going, bitch. But fine, have my 16bux. I don't want no trouble. And you're parked in my parking spot within the garage, bitch. I've lived here for 8 months, and just got the garage opener a week ago. But I'll let this slide because I'm a patient and understanding, well-balanced and law-abiding citizen of Foster City. Yeah, I may have been under a little bit of stress during the last couple of days... *twitch* But I don't have a gun, so you don't have to worry about me going bananas on your ass. Not tonite. *t-t-twitch* No, not tonite...

My roommate has her very own bathroom, but she tosses her nastyass sanitary napkins in the garbage can in the bathroom we share with one of our other roommates. I hate going in there and seeing all her fat rolled up pads. It'd be ok if they didn't stink up the place so. That's just unacceptable... But I don't know how to bring it up to her.

Only two more months...

She has a slightly lazy eyelid thing going on with her right eye that I thought was so damn sexy. Every now and then, it would close just a fraction slower than her left eyelid...

Last night I dreamed that I was taking a lengthy multiple choice test, some sort of personality test that was supposed to tell me exactly who I am and what I'm supposed to do with my life.

I filled out the little boxes on a scantron sheet corresponding to my answer choices. When I filled up the whole sheet, but hadn't finished the test, I asked for another scantron. Someone went to get me one, but came back emptyhanded. I asked again for the sheet... not just once, but a couple of times. Time and time again, the person came back without my sheet or with sheets that had already been filled out or that I couldn't use. Either he/she was an idiot, or he/she was toying with me. I was angry and frustrated. I was anxious to finish the test as soon as possible and find out what it had to say about me. I was frustrated beyond belief. Then I began dreaming about man-eating sharks, and a bunch of us trying to escape from them amid cereal boxes piled stories high within a warehouse full of water...

I deserve it. I will find it.

Does everyone in gradeschool have their own webpage or blog? I'm so out of touch with the generations after mine. It seems a little strange not knowing what young America is into, and what they're made of these days... since it also seems like just yesterday that I was part of young America. Now I end up stereotyping these younger generations, imagining they are all like the young people I see on TV and in movies... when maybe they're really a whole lot different.

I guess I'll have an opportunity to get back in touch with later generations when I have my own kids. By the time I have them, the generation gap may have grown so wide... and I'll have become one of those parents who just don't understand.

My roommates are seriously getting on my nerves.

I mean, they seemed like nice, friendly people when I first met them. And I don't cause any trouble. I'm hardly ever home. They've had some drama amongst themselves, and I haven't been part of it up until now. Since Monday, they've been pushing some of it on me. I don't appreciate. We only have two more months to go until the lease is up. I'd like to get my security deposit back.

I better go home and hide my valuables, and sell that pingpong table ASAP. Anyone want a pingpong table? $100, or best offer.

Julia Demato got voted off of American Idol tonite. Though her singing sucked compared to the other contestants, I liked her. She looked a lot better than the others. She would make one superhot porn star...

I don't know. And I won't ask.

Doesn't it all seem a little trivial to you?

Not really knowing where anything is located in the United States or the rest of the world could be a California-local thing.

Or maybe it's just Cali-centric me...

When was the last time you loved someone so much that you thought you would physically die from the pain that you felt because you could not have that person?

A pretty darn long time ago for me... when the walls of my heart were yet young and tender and soft as pudding. It was when I could find all the wretched, rueful, self-pitiful, longing, wasting feelings that I felt embodied so perfectly within the lines and tunes of the sorrowful love songs that were playing on K101. I'd sit alone and tortured in the car listening to these songs, my only truly empathetic friends... every heart-twisting emotion so explicity shared between us...

When did I stop being able to listen to love songs? A pretty darn long time ago too... around the time I realized it never gets as good as they sing, but it gets as bad and helluva lot worse than they sing.

Love songs are for fools. Most of them suck anyhow. And even the best can't hold a candle to the other types of music out there.

Power ballads work for me.

I want a cookie.

Do you floss? Regularly? Do most people floss regularly?

I never managed to incorporate it into my daily routine. Whenever I go to the dentist's office, the hygienist chews me out about not flossing, and my teeth-cleanings hurt like utter hell. So to avoid the painful experience, the beratement, and the fees for the whole ordeal, I've stopped going to the dentist altogether. I haven't been back in about 2 years.

Lately, my gums have been sore in two places. (I blame the war.) I've started using Listerine. But I know what I really need to do is start flossing. Ugh.

Here's an article about this.

I'm so excited! I sent Ames an email yesterday, and heard back from her today.

Here's the latest: She's just about to get out of dental school. She got engaged in December. She tore her muscle in two places while snowboarding three weeks ago.

And she's still playing games! "...now mostly x-box games (especially Halo)." I love her!!

This war and its aftermath may not affect me the to the extent that it may affect many, many other Americans and non-Americans. But it is affecting me...

The war is making me fat.

I blame the war for making me crave comfort foods in place of fruits and veggies. I blame the war for making me scattered and uneasy at work, and therefore more prone to voracious snacking. I blame the war for making me want stay at home in front of the TV all night after work instead of going to the gym. In fact, I blame the war for this fucking rash on my face that won't go byebye... And finally, I blame the war for putting my life on hold.

Stop the war! Stop it, I say!!

*Big Huge Sneer*

I got an email this evening from my cousin. One of her friends was shot and killed over the weekend... over an accidental car door dinging that took place outside of Club NV.

It's really sad that it's that easy to get yourself murdered these days. You don't have to be out in the Iraqi desert to be gunned down in cold blood. You just have to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. It happened to Maria last two years ago...

(I've gotta stop bringing that up. I've guilted myself enough already for not handling that as well as I think I should've.)

Matchbox 20 - Unwell

My mind's pretty scattered today. I'm trying to finish what I'm working on by the end of the day's deadline. I also want to read-up on the latest news about the war. I've got a couple of personal emails to write that required answers last week. I have people to be concerned about and to keep in touch with. I have family and friends to arrange to see that I haven't seen in weeks. I have plans for the weekend by the weekend. I have pounds to lose before summer. I have things to sell before my lease is up. I have clothes to wash and groceries to buy after work today. I have taxes to file soon. I have research to do on laptops, how to play the bass guitar, higher-paying jobs, a new place to live. I have shows and movies to see, the Oscars to watch...

I just want to be able to finish this damn documentation at work. But all these things keep distracting me.

That's what I loved about my roommate in college, Amy... I called her Ames.

I thought I was a tad tomboyish until I got to know her. I met her in seventh grade, but didn't really get close to her until we lived together in a tiny 1-room studio off-campus for almost two years. She's the only genuine gamer-girl I've ever known.

We were both into active sports and games. You name it, we'd play it. We enjoyed competing with the boys. She introduced me to badminton and Taekwondo. We both also enjoyed playing video games on her PC and on my Playstation. We played a lot of Diablo and Starcraft. She also played first-person-shooter games like Quake, while I preferred games like FF7.

We'd bike up to bio classes together, and tag-team with note-taking and sleeping during lectures. We would raid job fairs, and compare our bountiful loot back at the studio. We shared just about everything; we had an active "what's mine is yours" policy at the studio. We both had a ton of guy friends each, and shared a couple of them too. At some point, however, a level of resentment and jealousy set in (at least on one side) because we were choosing our guys over each other.

She's the one woman that has ever made me feel really girly. Around her, I was always much more aware of my emotionality, my feminine feelings and actions. Though she was guy-ish, she wasn't at all butch. She wore no make-up and wore fobby clothing, but she was quite petite and pretty... and her attractiveness shined through. She had a lot going for her, and didn't act like she knew it. She was humble, kind, friendly, playful, witty, clever, and fun-loving. Many people liked her. My ex wasn't one of them, but he was an exception.

If it wasn't for her, I don't think I would've survived some of my worst days at Cal. I owe her for many of the best things that happened to me while I was there. I could write pages about her and the things we did together, but I'll spare you the long read.

Ames went on to dental school at UOP after graduating. I've only seen her a couple times in the last four years. I really really miss her friendship.

For a friend's bday, we went to Lemans Karting. I'd watched other friends kart there before, but hadn't done it until tonight (Sat nite).

Those karts are bigger than I thought they would be. My feet barely reached the pedals. I messed up and wore backless shoes, so I spent half the time on the track trying to keep them on my feet. I raised my right leg on the right turns to drop the shoe back on my foot, and I used the straightaways to re-adjust my feet on the pedals. My hair was in my eyes 'cuz I'd forgotten to bring a hairtie. And I was sweating like I was at the gym. I thought I would get bored and feel tired after several laps, but the time flew by. The next thing I knew, it was last lap. I came in just behind the pack of guys. I guess I did well... for a girl. Arghhh. Always beaten by the guys...

The experience cost me a goddamn 56bux. But I had a lot of fun. 56bux worth? Well, I probably won't be back for awhile...

After dinner at Chevy's, we headed over to one of our friend's place to open gifts. The group gift was a DVD player and two DVDs of pr0n (aka porn). The bday guy also got two Girls Gone Wild DVDs. We watched one of them. It was pretty bad. (Side comment: I was more of a boob fan in the past. I've recently become more of an ass fan.)

We headed over to Tapioca Express afterward. There's a side room there where people can pay to play computer games with/against each other. Our seven guys played Counterstrike for about an hour. Again, the time flew by. These games look like so much fun. Why don't more women like to play them? I'd really like to play, but I'm so far behind the guys... It would take me forever and a day to learn how to play. And even then, me at my best would would probably be worse than the worst guy. I'd always die first, and that would get old very quickly. If more girls got into these kinds of games, we could get together and play at more of the same level, perhaps...

Karting, pr0n, LAN games... Such a man's world this is. If you're a guy, you should thank your lucky stars.

I went into tonite's poker games with a bad attitude, and I left with a worse attitude. I left early because I wasn't willing to lose more than 20bux to someone else's night-long stellar luck. I'll be back next week...

It's probably been said a buncha times before... love is like money. It can be measured quantitatively as money is in coins, bills, and even poker chips. For some people, it's hard to part with. You gotta give some to get some. The more you have, the more power you have to get more. Sometimes you have to put a whole lot out there to get some back. It's never guaranteed you'll get any back. You may just lose it all.

Love is like money. Maybe I should cut my losses and just walk away now...

Today's Asian man is a lot lot sexier than yesterday's Asian man.

When I went to the gym yesterday around 7pm, I saw many more men than women there. I suppose around that time, the women are at home cooking or doing other domestic things. And I guess many of the men at the gym at that time are unattached. Many of them were Asian. San Mateo and Foster City may have a relatively large Asian population, but I've never seen this many Asians at the gym in years past. I've been a regular at gyms for about 10 years.

I took a look at these guys... There seems to be a new breed of Asian man in the Bay Area. These are not your stereotypically skinny, bespectacled, wimpy-looking Asian men of decades past. Most of them are quite built. Big and buff they are. They're at the gym regularly. Every day. They come in pairs or threes and fours. Can't tell if they are in HS or my age...

Is the young, gymming, muscular and jockish Asian male a growing trend? Are more Asian men into their bodies these days? Will they finally beat down the old images of Asian males that have been ingrained into our society at large? Are they finally going to become the sex icons that Asian women have become before them? For my sake, as well as theirs, I hope YES.

I feel blessed to have a commute home that takes me west on the San Mateo Bridge. Whether in the afternoon, at dusk, or at nite, the 180-degree view from the bridge is absolutely spectacular. I could've burned my eyes out staring into the bay this afternoon.

Ah ok...

"Some intelligence, however, suggesting the Iraqi leader may no longer be in full control has contributed to the Bush administration's decision to hold off -- at least for a while -- the much discussed "shock and awe" campaign of heavy aerial bombardment. That term comes from a book on military strategy, 'Shock and Awe: Achieving Rapid Dominance.'" (excerpt from this article)

I'll have Amazon.com send me an alert if/when the book is in stock.

I came into the office today because we had one of our (quarterly?) company potlucks... meaning Indian food galore! I was bad and didn't bring anything but my hungry tummy. I planned to take some pictures of the food to post and make you drool, but in my haste to dig in and eat, I forgot to do so. I scarfed down my naan and the other wonderful food in under 10 minutes.

I'm taking the express train into the land of food coma now... catch you later.

Something I thought was kinda funny... More than several years ago, whenever I asked a guy around my age who his favorite male actor is, the answer I almost always got was Harrison Ford.

I guess back in the day, Mr. Ford was the safest answer the average macho homophobic male in his late teens early 20's could muster. Well, what boy born in the early 70's did not want to be Han Solo?

Who's the average man's favorite male actor these days?

Over IM, I polled 11 guys around my age, 2 of whom are non-Asian. There is still a lack of diversity among my guy friends, skewing my poll. Two guys said they don't have a favorite male actor (perhaps the macho homophobic males of this day and age). I got two votes for Brad Pitt, and two votes for Tom Cruise. I got one vote each for Adam Sandler, Ed Norton, Jack Nicholson, Robert Deniro... and a tie vote from one dude representing for his bros Jackie Chan and Jet Li. Second favorites were George Clooney, John Cusack, Bruce Willis, and Jason Statham. We're all across the board this time.

It might not be a great thing that we're at war, but I can't help being fascinated by all the weapons and vehicles and equipment the US military is using and the actions they are taking... though I think it's kinda messed up that they're calling this first attack the "shock and awe." That sounds more to me like a glorious and entertaining fireworks show. Who's shocked, and who's awed? I would think no one is either.

Well, maybe I'm semi-awed... I watched a huge bridge-laying tank-like vehicle put down a bridge right over a huge ditch in the desert on TV yesterday, while I was at the gym. It was pretty awesome.

If I admired the US military before, I idolize them now.

One of my friends works in the city, near the protesters and the police.

It would be interesting to be out there right now. I'd like to see for myself all the different kinds of people that have gathered. What does each person hope to accomplish? Obviously, they all want the war to stop. But for what reasons? There are the main reasons, and I imagine there are hundreds of other different reasons the people are protesting. I'd like try to find them out by watching and listening to each person in person.

I was at Starbucks tonite, and I'd already gotten up my frappuccino at Starbucks... when two girls walked up to the counter together. I didn't notice at first... did a doubletake when I realized that one girl was wearing the exact same pants I was wearing, and the other girl was wearing the same jacket I was wearing!

Pants-girl was blond and kinda sloppy-looking, and jacket-girl was Asian, with bright magenta highlights in her hair. And they both looked like they're still in high school. (I think I saw that Asian girl at the ice-rink more than a month ago.)

I dress like a teenybopper... or whatever they call those kindsa teens these days.

It was such an embarrassing moment for me. They must've heard me and seen what was up, since I spoke rather loudly as I pointed out my little fashion faux paus (that's what it felt like) to my friend. I hid behind the side of the counter until they left, lest anyone else notice. I saw them drive off, so they couldn't have been more than 10 years younger than I am. Small consolation...

I feel dyslexic sometimes. Not with letters or words. With thoughts and with trains of thought.

I'll think of things and I'll type them out. When I read back what I typed, invariably I must rearrange. All the little sentences and fragments... nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs. They make sense altogether. There is a common thread through them all. I just don't seem to string them right the first time they come out. Go back and edit.

They're starting to call me an addict. I wouldn't say that I am one. I do look forward to playing poker at the end of each week. Not 'cuz I like courting lady luck or taking a chance on chance...

Poker is helping me overcome my big fear of losing and letting go of money. Poker is helping me loosen up with my money and be more open to investing some of it. Poker is also breaking down my risk-aversion, and is helping me figure out how much to rely on my intuition. I'm learning how to recover more quickly from losses and get right back into trying to win the game.

So, at this point, whether I gain or lose money playing poker, it's win-win.

I haven't drank that much in the last couple of months. I don't feel an overwhelming desire to drink all the time anymore. I feel kinda good about that.

Sometimes I wonder how I'm able to not do drugs. Maybe it's simply... I wanted him more than I wanted drugs, and I couldn't have had both. I wonder how different things would be if he wasn't here.

We begin, we end, within a blink
Briskly whisked unto the brink
Tonite we frolic in the bed
At morn lie still among the dead

They don't have more rights, but yeah, I bet they think they do. They probably feel they deserve a lot for pushing those huge things out of their no-longer-little holes. Especially if they see that you are cute, young, unattached chick... Let's make her wait. They went through hours of the pain of labor, so I guess they figure you could endure a few minutes of the pain of waiting for them to cross the street. I think I might think that way when/if I am in their shoes.

One day, psycho-ex called and said, "If you leave me, I'll kill myself." He was in tears.

What fucking irony... that I had to hear such a similar yet opposite threat years later. With these guys (they even share the same first name), leaving them was a "damned if I do, damned if I don't" type of situation.

Psycho-ex said he was up at Grizzly Peak. He was actually on a pay phone at LHS. It dawned on me that there really weren't any cliffs from which he could plunge to his death in any of the areas there that were accessible by car. But I didn't call his bluff. I called the cops on him. He was very angry at me for doing that. The cops picked him up and dropped him off at the psychiatric ward at Herrick Hospital. I didn't go see him there in less than 24 hours afterwards. He was very angry at me for that too.

I didn't leave psycho-ex until he took himself away from me. That was fucked-up foolish love. That was more love than I'd ever given myself up until then. That's how and when I learned...

Never love someone more than you love yourself.

That's something I learned in college and have lived by since. It's worked well for me.

We're planning on going up to Tahoe next weekend to snowboard and have us some good times in Reno. It will be my first time up this season.

The snowboarding bandwagon has gone back and forth, to and from Tahoe, without me on board as of late. As of the last 3 years or so. It used to be a significant part of my active life back in college. We'd go all the time. Several days mid-week, all weekend, admidst midterms and finals and papers. It was such a thrill and a lot of fun back then, when not everyone and his older brother and little sister was trying to get into it. We were the minority group on the mountains in those days. You'd see us weaving through the stupid-looking snowplowing skiers with their stupid little poles, or attempting to land the crazy high jumps without helmets...

After I graduated and moved down to the south bay, snowboarding started losing its charm. We were working and would have to wait for the weekends to go up with the masses of other working stiffs. The snow was never as good as it was when we were able to go up whenever. It got old driving all the way up there with just my ex, the only person I knew back then who was better than I was. We started going up with other people, who were all beginners... and that was no fun at all. More and more beginners on the slopes. And trips up were reduced to one-day, sometimes half-day stints on slushy days. Waste of money, waste of time, waste of gas. I got laid off in 2000, and wasn't able to afford the trip up for awhile. Then my snowboard started getting old. It's a heavy piece o' crap now. And now I can't even come down the mountain in style... my snowboarding clothes are five years out of date.

And lately, there've been so many people into the sport, and that's taken a lot of it for me. They've all been up countless times since I stopped going regularly. They've probably caught up and/or surpassed me in the sport. Snowboarding is no longer one of those sports I can boast about. My skills have probably left the building, due to disuse. I'm dreading having that confirmed when I go up in two weeks. Oh well... it was I who lost my passion for it. I just gotta remember to pick up a helmet before I go this time.

Makes having an emergency escape option #1 (aka death by self) seem like a good idea... for those cases in which your days or minutes are numbered, and you know the exact number.... and you know how you are going to die, and it's not how you want to go. You don't wanna give your would-be murderer the satisfaction.

It could all boil down to whether you have enough time to grab the syringe and the poison and administer yourself a painless lethal injection. Research would have to be done to find some sort of poison that is both painless and lethal... and, if possible, also euphoria-producing.

If someone offered me a new gun for free, would I take it?

I wouldn't. Even if I could legally posesss it, get it registered, licensed, whatever... It would have the power to change me somehow, to some degree, and probably not in a good way. And logistics... where to keep it would be a big problem. I couldn't carry it around in my purse. I couldn't hide where I live. I'd be afraid someone would accidently stumble upon it and freak out, or do worse with it. Anyhow, the main purpose of having it would be to use it to defend myself in situations in which my life or the lives of loved ones are in danger, so it'd be half as useful at home. I couldn't keep it in the glove compartment or the trunk of my car. Well, I guess I could if I always made sure not to also have more than a pound of marijuana in my car... and to remove it everytime I get my car serviced. Otherwise, it'd be an arrest or an accident waiting to happen.

If I had a gun, would I tell anyone? Probably not. If it slipped out that I had one, the next thing I know, everyone knows. No one wants to be my enemy... or my friend, for that matter. They'd all have fake, nervous smiles around me all the time. "Damnit, I got 2 aces. Gotta fold again and let her win this hand... every hand..."

I'd go to the shooting range, though. Try out the real thing at least once...

Yesterday, I had a conversation with someone who told me that he's saving up to buy a gun. We talked for a few minutes about the types of guns he was interested in buying. I knew nothing about guns. Now I know next to nothing.

Then last night, I had a nightmare based on something one of my ex's had said in real life: "If you leave me... I'll kill you." He'd said it seriously, and he did have a tendency to make rash, irrational decisions due to a sometimes unpredictable temperament. Said ex had been interested in buying a gun even before we broke up, and it had been overheard within the last couple months that he's still interested in buying one.

I can't remember all the details of the nightmare. The gist of it was... I was living in a house with a lot of other people, and we were all competing for something... like the American Idol kids, but more like the Joe Millionaire women. We were competing for a guy, and I hadn't been eliminated yet. I was the token Asian woman who'd made to the last four rounds of elimination. I was living in that house in fear because of my ex's threat, and because I'd learned that he finally bought a gun. I had alerted security, and made sure that there were guards and other people around me at all times. One day, my ex walked into the room with another guy, and made a beeline for me. I screamed, "That's him!" No one seemed to recognize him or see him. I knew this was it, and I was horrified. He nonchalantly walked right up to me, grabbed my arm, and shot me around six times in the back. I started blacking out quickly, and I was thinking, "So this is how it's gonna end? I don't wanna die so quickly, so soon. But there's nothing I can do to stop death now..."

It was just a nightmare... my subconscious paranoia at work. Still, guns aren't toys. I'll be damned if I let anyone take away my life with one of them.

A have a never-ending case of this poison oak rash. It still flares up on my face every other day or so, though so much less severely than it did initially. The poison oak oils remain on something or more than one thing to which I'm regularly exposed, but I'm having a hell of a time identifying what... My skin is hypersensitive, so just a tiny bit of the oil makes the rash reappear. Since the same areas keep on flaring up, the scars aren't going away anytime soon. It sucks, but I'll beat this thing one of these days.

I'm not wearing any green today. I forgot to, though I reminded myself all weekend.

Pinch me. Spank me. Hit me. I like it all!

Yeah, there are those people that you just gotta let go of for good... Irreparable damage has been done to your friendship, no matter how much you might wanna believe otherwise.

We are better than that. We can look beyond past grievances and move forward afresh. We can banish the bitterness. We can still benefit from a friendship with each other.

No we can't. Not always. Not with some people.

It's just kinda hard to cut the cord completely when they're still friends with your friends. Thus, you feel compelled to keep up some level of rapport with them, know what's going on with them... or be left out of part of your friends' lives, or feel like the obstinate one that's not trying, but keeping spoiled milk in the fridge way past the expiration date.

Maybe I'm the only one trying, even though I'm really not at all. How silly. It'll feel good to drop the farce completely. There are so many more people out there to get to know and get to un-know.

You've had your moments in my history. Goodbye now.

I went for a walk in the sun and the gusty wind today with a few people today. I'd just met them recently. They're not part of the company I work for, but their company shares our building. I didn't realize how blurry my distance vision gets after many hours of staring at the computer screen. I mean, I knew it was bad, but didn't realize how bad until I tried looking around outside. I also didn't realize how much a short break from work and a little bit of socializing can do. I'm usually reluctant to leave my desk, even for a cup of water. My fingers are glued to this keyboard. My eyes are glued to this screen. My butt is glued to this chair. The only thing that gets me up is hunger and my oral fixation. I snack like a fiend here. Everyone knows me as "that girl we always see in the snack room." It's so bad for me...

I vacillate between deciding to be ordinary or to be great. I feel as if I'm somewhere in the middle of both, that ordinary and great are on opposite sides of me, quite a distance away, and that it would require a lot of effort on my part to head toward either. Go one way, and it'd be twice as hard and would take twice as long to change directions if I realized I went the wrong way. Then my life will end, and I may not have made the most of it.

There are and have been many great artists and entertainers, great scientists and technologists, great politicians and humanitarians. Which should I pick to try to become? Realistically, it would probably take more than the rest of my life to even come close to becoming a great anything. Should I even try? If it was even possible for me to become great, would I be satisfied being only great at one thing? What if I dedicate my life to becoming a great artist, and I manage to become one by the end of my life... I won't have time to become something else. I'd have run out of life. Would greatness come at the expense of the joys and comforts of an ordinary life? Would I be so tired from all my efforts by the end of life that I wouldn't care as much that I'd only accomplished what I'd accomplished?

What if I worked hard at becoming a successful ordinary person, and I got the comfortable house, the cars, the loved ones, the vacation time, the home theatre, etc? Could I be happy longterm with such an ordinary life? I think I would always regret not trying to become great. I would feel guilty that I took more than I put back in to the world, that I just sat back and relaxed and let other people entertain and progress the world. I would feel as if I settled for ordinary because I gave up on becoming great, even though that might not be the case. I would always envy those who've achieved greatness and who were able to use their greatness to do more good and to inspire and influence more people than I ever could as an ordinary person.

Assuming I will be around for at least another 50 years, what do I want to be at the end of my life? I feel I must decide soon... or be doomed to live a below-above-average life.

I'm on a buncha mailing lists to get emails about Asian parties. Sometime last week, after I checked out some of the recent party pictures from one of those parties, I decided that I've already been to my last Asian party.

Don't bother inviting me out to another one. I won't go.

I realized that I've passed the ideal age to go to those things. I can no longer hang with a young and effortlessly gorgeous and nubile crowd without appearing out of place. I can't fool anyone about my age anymore, and my looks no longer justify my being there. I don't want to be one of those fogies at those parties that inspire the following comment the next day among the younger people: "The crowd was kinda old last nite... you know, like mid-late to late 20s?" The music tends to suck at those parties anyhow... so I've no real urge to go to these things anyway. Maybe they are better in LA.

I just saw Tears of the Sun. It was ok. I admire soldiers, and I like seeing them in combat situations. So the movie had some entertainment value for me.

Though there's probably more than one thing that should've bothered me about the movie, the thing that irked me the most is that the makers had to pick a hot chick with a sexy foreign accent to play Dr. Lena Kendricks. They had her in a super low tank top and a shirt that is only held together by one button throughout the entire movie. And whenever she ran, they had her bending over gratuitously so that her boobs were bouncing like balls about to bust right out of her tank.

Not that I don't normally appreciate that kinda thing. It's just, this is a fucking war movie... with heavy artillery, blood, sweat, guts, dirt, death, fear, rape, torture, and women with their breasts cut off by barbaric rebels. In the midst of it all, they feel compelled to throw in a couple round, lily-white, bouncing tits for your viewing pleasure. Just in case you weren't already enjoying the violence. Surely not to offer a momentary break from the seriousness of the plot and setting... I mean, give me a break! (But not that kind.)

I've been smiling at babies more often lately. And dogs. When I drive along roads, I notice the houses a little more than I did in the past. On the weekends, I see people at the stores, buying things to fix and decorate those houses.

I think about the people living in their own houses, how they were all at my current stage of life at some point. They make me feel as if life for me is already half over. I don't have a house of my own yet. If I spend the next couple years working to earn money to buy one, and I spend the next 40 afterwards working to earn money to fix it up, decorate it, and fill it up with junk and loved ones, by the time I'm all through, my life will be just about over... won't it? And time will have passed so quickly... as it has during the first half of my life.

Is that how I want to spend the next half of my life? Working to purchase a jail cell of my preferred dimensions and location, and spending all that I subsequently earn and all of my free time developing the inside, so that I can live out the last few years of my life within the comfort of its bars? That's what it seems like most people are doing or have done. I'm not sure that's what I want to do... It just doesn't seem like enough of a life.

Finally! A study to prove that I'm not strange to have a thing for armpit odor. It's much like a low dose of a good drug to me.

Sweat for me, baby!

So there was this one time I was in bed with a guy I'd been to bed with a bunch of times, who I was into more than sexually, though I wasn't so sure how he felt about me... I usually resist asking someone straight out how he/she feels, choosing to wait until either he/she tells me or it's obvious. Relationship talks are painful and awkward for me. Most of the time, I'd rather not know and make a guess than ask.

On this particular nite, I couldn't resist asking, since it'd become obvious that he was never gonna tell me... and I was on the verge of leaving him and/or finding a new lover if he didn't feel the same way about me. So I asked in my trademark indirect and roundabout manner... "I'm not here just because I want to be here, am I? If you could choose to have anyone here in this bed right now with you like this, you would choose me?"

It was a serious question, and it had taken me a long time to gather up the courage to ask it. His answer brought my turntable to a sudden stop. "Not including celebrities? Yeah."

Ok. Maybe he didn't realize that I was asking seriously. Maybe he thought I asking if I'd be his first choice of women to simply sleep with. Or maybe that was the most honest answer he could give me.

I realized the instant after he answered that I had seriously asked a silly question, and that his serious answer to my silly question was even sillier. After the question and the answer, I was still in the dark about how he felt about me, and at the same time I stopped caring that I didn't know.

Evenso, I couldn't help wondering... should I be flattered to be his first choice of women to sleep with or to be with among all non-celebrities, among all the women who are actually within his reach? Or should I be offended that he would rather sleep with and/or be with a celebrity, whose life he really knows nothing about, than sleep with or be with me, who he knows pretty well? What does that say about my personality or how physically attractive I am or how good I am in bed? What am I even doing with a guy who would prefer the company of a celebrity over mine, or who would admit to that?

I think what he probably meant was, I'm not his ideal woman, but of the women who actually exist and are within his reach at that moment, he'd probably choose me. I probably should've been offended no matter what he meant. Lucky for him, I wasn't.

I get a lot.

I've known that I get a lot, that I am lucky. I didn't come to this conclusion by comparing myself with others. There are a lot of people who get more than I do, perhaps because they're better off monetarily. There are probably even more who get less than I do, even though they're better off monetarily. If I compared myself to these people, I probably would not think that I get a lot, but that I get just enough.

What makes me think I get a lot is that I get a lot more than I expect to get. In the last few years of my life, I've gotten so much that I've wanted, that I didn't think I could or would ever have. Chances are high that I will get what I want somehow, some way, someday.

Maybe I don't really want much.

Charmed life? Hardly... I'm doing my best not to believe that the supernatural is involved in my well-being. Though I get a lot, can I and will I still complain? Sure!

I received an email about my 10-year HS reunion. It's being planned for this summer.

I didn't make the 5-year, and now I wish I had. If there was one reunion to make, it was that 5-year... when being slim & single and looking young & fresh were still enviable. There were only 39 people (25 girls/14 guys) in my graduating class. Most of them haven't seen me since we graduated. I'd gotten the awfully-quiet-smart-studious-Asian-girl label in HS (I really wasn't studious), and I'd heard a lot of them had gotten themselves hitched and pregnant and fat in the five years. So I think I would've blown them all away at the 5-year.

I'd only not gone because Lia didn't. It's questionable whether Lia's gonna be able to make the 10-year. I'm debating whether to go or not. Being relatively slim & still single aren't as impressive at this age/stage. What else do I have to show for the last 10 years? Now it's like, "What's wrong with you? Why do you not have a hubby? Where are your babies? Where is your domestic bliss? Why are you not living happily and jolly ever after like we all are?"

If I decide to go, I'll come up with some really good answers to those questions beforehand. I won't hesitate to get creative and colorful.

I first met a gay person when I think I was in fourth or fifth grade. If I remember correctly, his name was Peter. I kinda sorta remember what he looked like.

My dad had a Christian BBS (Bulletin Board Service, for those of you who lived after those times), and he met and befriended Peter through it. One day, dad invited Peter over for lunch with us. I still remember how tense the rest of us were... mom, bro, and I. I remember asking, "Would it be safe to shake his hand?" Mom looked hesitant. Dad said it should be alright. Then, of course, the big question... "Is he going to go to hell because he is gay?" Both parents said yes.

My dad remained friends with Peter and continued to talk to him about spiritual matters up until he died of AIDS a year or so later. My dad continues to make friends of all types through internet discussion boards.

Hm... Not having had much real-life experience with them, I'm not even sure I know what gay people are like in general. I've assumed they are just like you and I. No real difference in overall human behavior, of course. I don't know if there are really any trends or accurate stereotypes among them.

I figure the majority of gay people don't really "act gay" the way that films and shows and other such forms of audiovisual entertainment have them acting. However, I'm not sure which is truer most of the time... reel-life imitates real-life, or vice versa... or even verce visa (are both imitating each other, kinda like the whole black-face thing?)

Seems like there is homosexual, and there is gay. They are not quite the same thing. In addition to meaning homosexual and happy, gay seems to be an adjective used to describe a set of mannerisms, or a person who displays those mannerisms, who may or may not be homosexual.

Is it me, or does it seem like a lot of guys in marketing are gay?

Every now and then, I'm surprised at how homophobic America still seems to be. I watch TV, and there seem to be homophobic undertones all over the channels. News media presents itself as non-conservative (doesn't it?), yet comes across as homophobic. Have you noticed that? Perhaps there isn't even an attempt to hide the homophobia.

For most of my life, I've taken the fairly liberal environment of the SF Bay Area for granted... didn't realize how lucky I am to have been born and raised here. I'm guessing that SF is one of top five least homophobic cities in the US. In comparison, everywhere else seems grossly homophobic... though that's just my extrapolation since I haven't been able to travel much.

I've only been to one other non-Cali metro area. New York City. While there, I got a pretty strong feeling that the people there are still quite sadly stuck in a very Old World environment and mentality, with Old World ideals. They seem homophobic. People I know who were born and raised there seem doomed to be hopelessly homophobic for life, even after they move here. If NYC is that homophobic, how much moreso the cities in between the coasts. It becomes increasingly apparent to me that I could never live for long in NYC or elsewhere similarly unprogressive...

I can't stand homophobia. I am quite defensive when I sense it, even though I'm not gay and I don't have any gay friends. I would love to have a gay friend (I imagine a lot of people would). I don't get out enough to meet any.

I can't remember what it's like without sex... what life was like before sex.
I can't remember what it's like not having a single zit on my face.
I can't remember what it's like not being in debt.
I can't remember what it's like feeling young.
I can't remember what it's like sleeping alone.
I can't remember what it's like to have short hair.

I thought I would read a little before going to sleep last night. Picked up a friend's Time magazine. Could not bring myself to read it.

I went on Amazon this morning to find out how slanted other people found the magazine to be. I was glad to discover a lot of other suspicious and annoyed and repulsed people. I'd like to know what they're all reading instead, or how else they choose to learn. Where do they all go for the truth?

Over the last couple of years, I have become increasingly suspicious and avoidant, but not phobic, of all things written... especially news, history, and other things presented as facts through all means of communication. I've pretty much stopped reading books and watching TV, except to be entertained. Luckily, TV offers a ton of entertainment these days, so I'm still able to enjoy hours and hours on the comfy couch in front of it. There's also the internet, from which I tend to believe just a little bit more, and from which I am able to derive a sufficient amount of entertainment as well.

Although I've felt a lot cleaner without filling up my mind with false facts and crap knowledge, I've also been feeling quite in-the-dark. Sometimes I wish I wasn't like this... that I didn't demand the absolute truth, that I could settle for less if that's the most I could ever have. How did I become like this? Perhaps it has something to do with being forced to accept the Bible and other Christian propaganda while growing up. Even all the history and biology books at school were written by Christian authors. As you can imagine, those were very thin books.

Absolute truth is elusive, most likely unattainable. And not dropping pursuit of it is keeping me from learning anything. The question is no longer "what is the truth" but "would I rather be widely educated in fiction and crap, or widely educated in nothing at all?"

Maybe now I would rather fill up on crap, and be able to talk crap with everyone else, than be completely clean, yet empty and silent. Maybe the truth really doesn't matter, and isn't necessary to determine meaning and purpose and all those good things that people strive to find for life. Maybe all that matters in this life is that I'm kept entertained and happy throughout.

Yeah. I'm deciding to go with that last maybe.

Whenever I watch VH1's Behind the Music, I wonder how much more or less more successful some bands would be had their members not all been serious drug addicts. How much do we owe drugs for some of the most brilliant music ever made? Do drugs really enhance creativity? Or is that most likely just a myth propagated by musicians, artists in general, and others to justify and excuse prolific drug use?

I wonder how much more creative I would be on drugs.

I played softball today, and met a guy named Hyman... pronounced "'hI-m&n."

That's just wrong in my book. What were his parents thinking?! I hope he doesn't have a sister named Foresken. I've heard some pretty strange and unusual Asian names before, but this one's the worst one yet. I mean, dude could at least spell it "Highman." Or pronounce his name "'hI-man" instead of hymen.

It's not that I've got a guttermind working overtime. I just think it's kinda rude to force someone to think about private parts and related subjects at the mere mention of your name. It's not as bad as having an obscene tattoo on your forehead. But it's still just not right...

I hadn't been to SF MOMA until yesterday. I'm not a huge fan of modern art, but I'd already been surprised when I visited the MOMA in NYC. I was actually intrigued by a lot more than I'd expected. My experience yesterday was similarly pleasant. I think it helped to read the little write-ups about the artists. Doesn't seem like there are very many artists that don't live unusual and interesting lives...

The one consistent thing that impressed me about most of the artworks that grabbed my attention is the artists' brilliant choice and use of combinations of colors. I wasn't impressed much by the plain white urinal on display on the third floor (it was clean), or the plain white rocks arranged in a circle in the middle of the floor, or the three plain white canvases painted, well, white. Hm... I guess I really need colors.

I just watched Unfaithful. The feelings of a woman who's cheating are portrayed with scary accuracy in some scenes.

But the freakiest thing about the movie is that I, too, have a collection of snowglobes (though my collection is pretty small). Now I'm thinking of getting rid of them. I know they can be used to kill a man. Two powerful blows to the top of the head with one of those, and he's done for. Well, so it was in the movie.

After watching the movie, I don't think I could ever be unfaithful in that way. I used to think the only real way to make sure I'm never unfaithful is to never get into another serious relationship.

I think that one of the biggest downfalls of women is that they never ever stop competing with each other, even when there are no men around to impress or to take home as a trophies. They are firecely catty unto the death!

I've been watching Survivor: The Amazon... and I couldn't help noticing that, although the all-woman team's main competitor is the all-guy team at this stage in the game, they're even more competitive within themselves in ways that the guys aren't and to their own detriment. You don't see the guys so jealous and comparing their bodies with the other guys' bodies, or fighting over trivial things while there are greater battles to be fought and more important issues at hand.

In the absence of women, guys seem to bond together tightly. It's like, women are guys' biggest downfall... but take the women away, and men become mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually strong creatures... the gods of Earth they have the potential to become. Check them out during war situations... They get close, like brothers. They encourage each other. They take physical pain for each other. The "take one for the team" mentality is prevalent.

Would you see the same behavior among women? I think not. I can imagine a group of women in a combat, even on the front lines... but I can't see a woman risking her life to save another woman's life, or dying for another one. Not even when the whole country is counting on her and the rest of her team. I can hear her secretly hoping, "I hope the cute, skinny one dies first"... or thinking "Save her? Pfffff! I'm better than she is! I'm saving only one ass, and it's my own." ...or even "If I'm going down, the pretty bitch goes down with me!"

So sad...

More power to you and I... two normal people who are able to think and talk about morbid subjects freely, openly, and relatively comfortably... not regarding them as taboo subjects, and without worrying about our own states of mind or our mental healths.

We know we're sane, maybe saner than most. We're just full of wonder. We always want to be prepared, leave no stone unturned. We aren't afraid to go there... or anywhere within our minds.

Today is Fat Tuesday. Why should I celebrate a fat day when every day for me is a fat day? I had Fat Tuesday last week, and I'll have it next week too... and possibly the week after that.

I'm treading lightly on this subject... aware that I may offend those of you who are larger than I am. I realize that most people would not categorize me as fat. And the more descriminating would prefer to flatter me with words such as proportioned, lightly buff, voluptuous, curvy... whatever.

It doesn't really matter what everyone else thinks or says... I feel fat and that is that is fat!

It's always the little tiny things... *twitch * twitch*

The year swings around again. Each year, same as the next... Every day's the same, everything's the same.

But NO they're NOT. Things have changed, and I have changed too. A lot. I know it in my head. Lately, there have been times when I don't feel as if much has changed... when some of the same old, nagging thoughts come back... when the same issues return...

Things are different this year. Things are much better. At the core, I'm happier. I'm better off financially, mentally, socially. I'm closer to getting out of debt. I'm closer to the people I care about. I cried last night because I forgot...

If you notice that I'm in a temporary funk and that I've temporarily forgotten, please remind me. I'd greatly appreciate it.

It's lame when you know that in certain situations the past shouldn't matter anymore, and that it's the present and the future that really matter. Maybe you're in the lead, or you've already won... and what takes away from your victory is not the pain of the gain, but the means. In some cases, the end isn't enough to make you forget the means... especially when the means were strange and unusual.

Sometimes it's hard not to be weirded out by the things that were said and unsaid, and by unsolved mysteries and assumptions that remain mysteries and assumptions because I equally want to know and don't want to know. In these cases, knowing is not half the battle. It's very unnecessary. The past shouldn't matter. Yet I'm bugged. Oh well, I'll try get over it...

I'm recanting... Death by self is no longer an emergency escape option. You may now sigh with relief... or be startled because you didn't realize it was one of my options.

I had a week and weekend full of thoughts about death in general and related issues. Then I heard, on Friday, that one of my friend's friends committed suicide. On Saturday, I read a random blog containing the thoughts and feelings of a woman dealing with the suicide of a friend/relative.

And I realized that suicide is not one of those things that can be wholly justified by the statement "I'm doing what's best for me." I'll give you some leeway if you're a blind and mute quadruplegic..

But for the rest of you, no matter who you are or how many people you know, your death will fuck someone up. You may not know who or to what extent. I've always regarded suicide as the ultimate act of selfishness. But even so, I felt I had the right to keep it an option... the ideal being possessing the ability to determine exactly when and how I die. Some people would like to do one last thing, a huge thing, for themselves, perhaps after many years of not doing much for themselves, by committing suicide. You may go ahead and do yourself "a favor," and at the same time be the selfish asshole who leaves a wake of sorrow and confusion behind him/her. But do I really want to be that person?

Do I want to kill myself and have people automatically assume something went terribly wrong? Do I want to make people wonder what the problem was, or if/how they could've helped me, even if I died at the height of my life and in the throes of immense pleasure? Do I want to be other people's excuses or inspirations to do the same? Do I want to make people think prematurely or unwillingly about the existence and permanence of souls, of Heaven and Hell, of nothingness and afterlife? Do I want to shake up the happy and the content by forcing them to think about the questions they are better of not asking? The questions that have no answers? The would-be answers that would turn every worst-case-scenario-safest-bet-option person into a disciple of some sort of religion?

The answer is no. I'm not that big of a bastard.

I agree... that it's good to question everything. Including established authority. And, in my opinion, blind faith is at best hopeful ignorance, especially when it comes to God and religion and the existence and permanence of my soul...

It's not that I have blind faith in the government to make the best decision about war. It's that I'm readily willing to admit that I don't know enough (I know next to nothing) about this war to argue that I know better than the decision-makers, and I'm not silly enough to think that by disagreeing with them, puny little citizen that I am can somehow change the situation. I'm sure there are enough people in power, who know a helluva lot more about the situation, trying to do just that.

I just hate when, for some people it's "let's talk about the war" over lunch or as a pass-the-time conversation piece these days, and then they proceed to talk out of their asses... thinking they're arguing an enlightened opinion while simply regurgitating what media has said or written. That pisses me off.

So I'm blogging buzzed. This is as close to drunken blogging as I've ever gotten. I don't know if I'll ever have the chance to actually blog drunk. Anyhows, I could've probably had a couple more, and it'd have all been good. The thing is, when you haven't drunk in so long, you don't really care if you do or you don't. Now, I feel like I need to drink tomorrow. And the day after, and definitely the weekend after. Let's make it a regular thing. But I don't know. I can't help thinking about the damage. I mean, it's just too bad that one can't be buzzed off of water. I mean, all the things that get you high and happy are just slowly killing you. That's just sad. But anyway, I'm glad I got out tonite. The haze is in place. And I feel pretty good. So I'm going to sign off now, and I'll talk to you later. Bye!