Strange
Day

You gotta love Sara. Who else gets so annoyed at the characters in books she reads. This is why it’s dangerous to recommend new material to her.

My friend’s father just died.
It was a drawn out, slow decline. Whenever I talked with my friend, he told me the pain his father was in, mentally and physically.
I only met the man once, but from all I know, he was simply a good man.
There is no loss like losing your parents. These are the people who physically brought you into the world. When they are gone, you’re like a leaf separated from the tree.
The man is gone. But tonight, I think more than one mind will finally be at rest.

Just looking at the picture down there of Lindsey.
She really is beautiful. Easy to take a good picture with a subject like that. Just looking at her can leave me feeling weak.
When she started at work, I thought she was a pain in the ass. And she spent half the time pissed off at me.
But looking back, nobody is ever really like the first impression they make at work. The one problem I still have with her, (and I don’t think it is always a problem), is that she is almost always completely focused on herself and her own interests. It’s not selfishness and it’s not ego. She just always sees things in how they relate to her. When dealing with company wide issues at work, it can be … restrictive, but otherwise, nothing. She’s a salesperson after all.
Besides, her main ‘interest’ that she is always concerned about is her son, (who happens to be too cute for his own good, and will soon have more women that god himself, no doubt). She’ll do whatever it takes, for him. I don’t think there’s a thing in the world she loves more.
I think it’s very easy to underestimate her. She is as close to wild as women my age get without being floozies. But I don’t know anyone else so interested in learning. Even Sara is more like me… learning because we want to know how to do something or because learning is fun. But I’ve watched Lindsey squeeze every last bit of information out of a trade show presenter, to where the poor guy had to admit ignorance of anything further.
Fighting with her or flirting with her, you take your life into your own hands, either way.
I am surrounded by amazing women. And not one of them has the least bit of interest in me.

I was rather quiet last month.
I lay the blame at Stacey‘s feet, for the most part.
We got together for the first real time since my freshman year at RIT. Despite several years of us both being rather thick, and not talking anywhere near as much as we needed, she invited me to her graduation. (She is now Doctor Stacey.)
I couldn’t turn her down again, even if I wasn’t sure how things would be between us. While she told me to stay as long as I wanted, I kept my reservations limited. I neither wanted to overstay my welcome, nor be stuck in a torturous atmosphere.
I apparently keep forgetting how direct Stacey is. If she hadn’t wanted me there, or hadn’t wanted me to stay, I would very well have known.
But it isn’t all this friendship crap that really got to me. Our friendship is close to 12 years old now. That’s nearly half our lives.
But I had forgotten the way life goes.
I’ve sat here many times wondering how she can be so adamant about going back to Rose when she finishes her educational obligations. Even my time in Rochester made me pretty certian I would find no peace in my own small hometown any time soon.
There was some brick wall there for me, when I first arrived. It was my own wall, not Stacey’s.
I’ve gotten so used to fuckin’ ‘trying’. I can’t remember the last relationship here that didn’t require some effort. Life in this city is a series of confrontations.
None of that existed while I was in Syracuse. I had nothing to prove to Stacey, and would look foolish if I tried. The simple act of spending time together was new again, it had been so long since I last tried it.
Stacey is incredible. Incredibly beautiful. Incredibly smart. She has a personality that will not be overwhelmed, no matter how much punishment she subjects it to. And if she cares about you, you’ll never doubt it. Outside of myself, who was probably grandfathered in, her friends are much the same.
I left the weekend in Syracuse reminded of these things. Reminded why she was so special to me. Reminded of how peaceful life can be. I walked to work for a few days with a smile on my face, which probably scared the shit out of the locals. And for a while I felt bad about the excessive negative emotions this place can bring out in me.
Believe me… this is one of the people I mentioned before, who will kick you in the teeth, and then drive you to the hospital. Wouldn’t have it any other way.

well fuck me.
another ex of mine is getting married.
I give up. I’m just going to start a dating service… “If you want to meet Mr. Right, just go out with me, and he’ll come along shortly.”

I just put on the sweatshirt. There is always just one sweatshirt… one that fits just right, isn’t too new or too worn. One that works in summer or winter.
I pulled it over my head and straightened it out. I looked down at the left sleeeve, as it rode a few inches further down my arm than the right one. The sweatshirt was brandnew when Anita pulled on that sleeve. She yanked the end past my hand, twisted it up, and pulled me aorund by it.
I think about her when I pass the FBI Headquarters in the J. Edgar Hoover Building. She was getting her degree in Criminal Justice, and going on to the FBI.
By any definition, she was beautiful in every sense of the word.
I can’t believe I can’t just walk down to the Hoover Building to see her. Can’t you all see that it’s perfect, that’s obviously the way it was meant to be?
She’s out of reach now. Another airplane in another time… but the same result.

How can you not love that smile.
(Image stolen from the soub.)

Happy Birthday.
(That smile must run in their family)

I could really learn to fuckin hate these helicopyers…er helicopters. (no, I havent been drinkin. And I don’t see the pink elephants dancing in my window.)
With spelling like this it makes me wonder how I ever managed to code HTML by hand. This is why Dreamweaver is my friend.
Sara is still bogarting my music. But dispite several direct recommendations, she still refuses to listen to Boss Hog. I’ve given up being scared by all we have in common. I just accept it, and use it to torture her.
After all, Stacey and I have next to nothing in common, but have continued to drive eachother nuts for almost 12 years now. I don’t know what the qualifications are to be my friend. Apparently it involves being a pain in the ass and not taking any shit, though. The kind of people that will kick your teeth in and then drive you to the hospital.
Psychotic little bunch, we are.
God, have ya realized how much TV has degenrated? You can get just as much entertainment by watching it with the sound muted as you do with the speaker on.
There’s something bad going on in the news media lately. I’ve been trying all night to put my finger on it. I’m too tired to examine it right now though.
There’s really something to be said for listening to the city. I come home and read on my couch facing the bay window. From that angle, I can’t see the street, but you hear everything. (Ask anyone who’s ever tried to talk to me on the phone then.) People get very stupid after work. Similar to leaving a bar, they shouldn’t be allowed to drive leaving the office. They should be crowded onto the subway with all the other assholes.
Tonight it rained. I didn’t actually see it, but I can hear the difference. Sounds echo a lot further down the street. Car tires sound like they’re frying on the asphalt. And the cricket starts chirping. He only comes out after the rain. I think I may be forced to impale him on a pretzel if he doesnt shut up soon.

and she’s purty too.

There is a woman laying in a hospital somewhere in Pennsylvania. I’ve never met her and don’t even know her first name. But what I know of her family leads me to believe she is a wonderful person.
I don’t know if she is a live anymore. She wasn’t expected to last the morning.
May she be more comfortable once this is all sorted out. She deserves better.

I talked with Sara last night. She has this nasty habit of making me feel good.
If you get bored enough when you’re sitting on the subway, you’ll notice that as the train picks up real speed, the windows start to bow inwards. Between that and quick changes in elevation, your ears will pop depending on where and when you go.

so what do you do when its over? or at least, youre told its over, even if it doesnt feel that way to you?

*flash*

what about all those things we were going to do?

*flash*

what about all those things I wanted to do for her?

*flash*

what about all those things she was doing for me?

*flash*

ive never wanted anything else in the world this much. Id willingly lay down my life for it. Ive given here smile after smile, the most important things in her life. Ive in some small way managed to convince her of her own beauty. Intelligent converstaion. A laugh when she is in pain. And this isnt enough?

*flash*

Why cant I hate her. Why cant i tell her it was all lies, and that she’s an ugly bitch? Besides the fact none of it would be true, I couldnt look in her eyes (whatever) and see the pain the lies would cause.

*flash*

suuuuuuuuure…

plan all night on going to a club. my friends ask me if im going with them. And we stop back at my place so my friend can pick up some stuff he had here. So I wait while he’s getting changed in the bathroom. And as soon as he’s ready they take off.

What the fuq do you do… invite yourself? after they apparently change their mind?

😛

Have you ever met your other self?

That person who completes something within you. They tell you that they love you, and you dont even think to question it. You find yourself really trusting someone for the first time in your life. Your heart warms at a smile, and you wish a touch would never end.

I have.

anyways…

work again today. found out i may be getting a much big tax refund… seems the IRS thought I had about 4600 bucks in child care taxes to pay. granted… the closest I come to having kids are the roaches in the bathroom at work.

and i rush home to work on this ridiculous site. this apartment is a mess. but the most annoying thing is i cant even really clean it up. I have no where to put anything. i am sans furniture.

i cant write tonight.

This morning, I climbed into bed to hold her in my arms.

Some bad humor to cover a difficult moment.

A parting kiss that could never suffice.

Home seems awfully lonely right now.

Better go to bed now… alone.