Posts
This past weekend I took a short trip just to get out of the city with J_. I took my folks car (with their permission of course) picked J_ up from Starbucks and off we headed from Douglaston, Queens, up to Mystic, Connecticut.
First off, traffic sucks. We got a late start and managed to leave around 2 in the PM. First off, the mix CD I made didn't work. I accidentally made an MP3 CD which wouldn't play in my regular CD player. So that blew. And then J_'s iPod decided not to work and that also blew. J_ doesn't so much like a lot of my CD's because my music isn't very happy (a good deal of indie rock, and we all know how happy Death Cab or Neutral Milk Hotel and the Dresden Dolls really are).
I shall list the tracks of the mix CD here as I put some time and effort into it, and, though it isn't the best mix CD, it is happy music (mostly) and I want to share. If I knew how to upload the music itself I'd do that, but I don't know how, you'll have to be satisfied with the song titles instead.
1. The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song - The Flaming Lips
2. Mambo Sun - Eszter Balint (covering the Marc Bolan original)
3 ? (I don't know, it's some ska song I stole from my brother's computer, it was untitled)
4. Lupin the 3rd - The Tokyo Ska Jazz Orchestra
5. Circles (live bootleg) - Soul Coughing
6. Comfort Eagle - Cake
7. The Peter Gunn Theme song - Henry Mancini
8. Jaan Pehechan Ho - Mohammad Rafi (from the Ghost World Soundtrack)
9. Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained - Huang Sheng Yi, Raymond Wong, Lin Xi (from the Kung Fu Hustle Soundtrack)
10. Summer: III Presto - Vivaldi
11. Coin-Operated Boy - The Dresden Dolls
12. Angle with an Attitude - The Ditty Bops
13. God is a DJ - Pink (Don't judge me people! It's happy music)
14. Soft Revolution - the Stars
15. I wish I was a Punk Rock Girl (with flowers in my hair) - Sandi Thom
16. (Love is) What I Got - Sublime
17. Stuff that I like - Brak (From the Brak show on Cartoon Network)
18. Rockin' the Suburbs - Ben Folds
19. Dreaming of You - The Coral
20. Someone to Watch Over Me - Ella Fitzgerald.
So instead we listened to some Israeli 90's rock I had (a great band called Monica Sex which has since broken up - boo!). Then the radio. The ride, which really shouldn't have been more than three hours, took a little over four hours of bumper to bumper traffic. Grah interstate 95!
When finally got to our hotel (Cedar Park Whirlpool Suites - our room was not as nice as those pictured) I was a little nervous as the exterior really isn't the nicest in person. But it turned out to be a really nice, cozy place to stay. The staff was great and friendly, and even the other guests were nice. So that was a nice surprise.
We wanted to walk around Mystic but alas, it was raining, thus we we went straight for dinner.
As I hadn't done any real research on where to eat or anything like that, we just stopped at the first nice place we saw. This happened to be the "Seaman's Inn" (and because you are all upstanding readers I shall refrain from all the horrible dirty puns I shot, rapid fire, at J_ while we were parking). It was right by the Seaport, and had Tofu Pad Thai as the vegetarian option.
Note to anyone traveling anywhere. Maybe it's because I'm spoiled having lived in Boston, and now in NY, but I'm used to good Pad Thai. For future reference, don't order Pad Thai from a New England pub known for it's fresh seafood and chowder. It's just a bad idea. Pad Thai should only be consumed from real Thai restaurants, and that's all I'll say on that matter.
We managed to find a Starbucks (every time I think I'm out they pull me back in) and found they had all sorts of pastries we don't get. We ordered our drinks and then took a walk around the very small shopping center where the Starbucks was found. I lucked out and found a Van Heusen store with a huge sale. I got a really nice shirt and tie for only twenty bucks total, which is pretty outstanding in general, and even more so compared to most sale prices I see here in the city. NY is so freaking expensive.
We drove back to the Hotel, watched the end of Monk, and the new show Psych on USA. Psych is really a poor man's Monk. It's cute but not nearly as good.
Anyway, aside from the fact that I'm horrid in bed, there really is nothing more to tell you about until the following morning.
We slept in and missed the complimentary breakfast, which kinda sucked as I didn't want to go out and try and find a good breakfast place somewhere else.
We spent the morning in a huge tourist trap of sixty shops in an area set up to look like an old New England Village. If you ever go to Mystic it isn't worth your time.
Then it was off to the Mystic Aquarium. Here is what I learned at the aquarium (which really is pretty nice, though a bit small, on the plus side most of it is outdoors):
- Poison Dart Frogs get their names because natives would rub darts on the frogs to get the poison mucus secreted by the frog onto the darts.
- Sea Horses use their tails to grab onto seaweed and such to prevent being washed away by the current.
-Sea Horses have a series of rigid circular bones that keeps them upright as they swim.
-Many Bats aren't blind; some even have better vision than humans.
- The Electric Eel can release an electric charge with enough energy to bake a pie and do a load of wash in the dryer simultaneously.
- Beluga Whales use the weird dome thing on their head to make the many sounds they make to communicate.
- Sea Lions are a lot bigger than I though they were (weighing up to 2500 pounds).
I think that might be it. Also, if you are walking around under the sun for a long time, wear sunscreen. Technically I knew this already, but I wasn't wise enough to actually use said knowledge to my advantage that day.
After the Aquarium we headed straight to Friendly's. Why Friendly's you may ask instead of say, a local restaurant? Well screw you! I don't need to answer your questions. Stop Judging Me!
Really though, I grew up on Friendly's, it was a huge part of my childhood, and J_ had never in her life been to one. Thus, Friendly's - at least in my mind - was an imperative.
Full of ice creamy goodness, we headed towards the seaport, which we then learned closed at five (the time was 4:40).
Since we had plenty of time to kill (we were in no rush to go home) we headed into downtown.
Gosh darn if that isn't what we should have done first. For some reason I thought the cheesy faux New England village was the downtown. I was wrong. The Downtown was much nicer. We walked around, checked out the shops, hung out at a park by the docks on Mystic River, and walked around some more through the general neighborhood checking out the old (well mid-1800's old) houses. They were really nice.
The neighborhood goes up a hill from the river. At the top of the hill there is a nice senior retirement community. Actually, I don't know how nice the community really is, but it sure looked nice. So nice we thought about cutting through the "emergency" path located on the side downwards, just to check out the nice lawn and such. We opted out of the shortcut in order to see more houses as we snaked our way back down towards the river.
We ambled further down the hill and saw a nice family owned funeral home. I thought to myself it would be funny in a movie or something if the "emergency" path from the retirement home led down to the Funeral Home. It's a bit dark, but J_ thought it was pretty funny. That is until we learned the truth: the "emergency" path really did lead down from the retirement home down to the funeral home. It was marked clear as day on the funeral home side. Feeling really bad, and cracking up at the same time, I wondered if the person was already dead, why was the path labeled "emergency"? It seems like once they are dead there are no emergencies anymore. Emergencies are the privilege of the living. Once you're dead, you have all the time in the world.
We almost got a slice at Mystic Pizza just because it was Mystic Pizza, even though J_ had never seen the movie Mystic Pizza. Sometimes I forget how young she really is. But we were full and went without.
Sun set, it was too cloudy to see stars, so we drove home.
The drive home took two hours.
Unrelated; I don't know if any of you have heard, but apparently it is rumored that Heath Ledger will play the Joker in the next Batman movie. I haven't figured out how I feel about this yet. Thoughts always welcome.
That is all, you may now resume your lives.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
What was once all white but now red all over?
So i spent a nice weekend (well just friday and saturday) in mystic connecticut and am going to blog about it, only I got horribly sunburnt nnd am too much of a big baby to write about it now. I must continue to slather moisturizer all over my self to avoid the horrible pain.
oh the horror, the horror.
I wish I could tan. Unfortunately I go from bright pale to bright red, and then fade, not to tan, but to bright pale once again. Curse you fair and pale skin.
oh the horror, the horror.
I wish I could tan. Unfortunately I go from bright pale to bright red, and then fade, not to tan, but to bright pale once again. Curse you fair and pale skin.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
No news is... well kinda boring
First off, I don't know if anyone noticed, but I changed my Avatar. No more "WHY BOTHER" now you're all just stuck with an actual photo of me. That's right boys and girls, the new icon is my true visage. Notice the shirt I am modeling. It was a birthday gift from J_. She had it made special for me from Neighborhoodies. If you can't figure out the pictogram (and it took me a moment) the images are of Harpo Marx - check the bushy red hair and floppy hat - with a horn asking a question. For those of you unfamiliar with Harpo Marx well, I feel a bit sorry for you. If you would like to educate yourself on the hilarity that is the marx brothers I suggest you go here. Though the best way to learn is just to rent their movies. I would recommend Duck Soup, Animal Crackers, and Day at the Races. But they are all great.
And for the record, in the new avatar, the photo is not blurry. That is actually how my face looks. I have a very rare skin condition, which I'd really rather not discuss. If you don't believe me you can ask Piu Piu, she's seen me for real and can verify I look that blurry in person as I do in the photo.
And finally, we can scratch one off the list. I did recieve the new Dresden Dolls album yesterday. It has a bit more rock influence than their previous album which felt a bit more jazzy and punk. I prefer the previous album, but the new one is still very fun to listen too.
That is all for now.
And for the record, in the new avatar, the photo is not blurry. That is actually how my face looks. I have a very rare skin condition, which I'd really rather not discuss. If you don't believe me you can ask Piu Piu, she's seen me for real and can verify I look that blurry in person as I do in the photo.
And finally, we can scratch one off the list. I did recieve the new Dresden Dolls album yesterday. It has a bit more rock influence than their previous album which felt a bit more jazzy and punk. I prefer the previous album, but the new one is still very fun to listen too.
That is all for now.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Because I knew you were planning to already...
Tomorrow (July 22) will be my twenty-sixth birthday. I assume that all of you have prepared and purchased for me a birthday gift (wow what an awkward sentance!). But just in case some of you slackers have forgotten, here is a list of just a few things I would like to own.
T-shirt to be purchased here.
which can be purchased through amazon here TOO LATE, J_ GOT IT FOR ME.
15.4 inch 2ghz intel core duo, purchasable here
If you can't afford the entire thing, I'd be happy to take it in instalments. Be it through individual towns, all the way up to continents.
Honestly it'll probably be easier getting me the previous item on the list.
T-shirt to be purchased here.
which can be purchased through amazon here TOO LATE, J_ GOT IT FOR ME.
15.4 inch 2ghz intel core duo, purchasable here
If you can't afford the entire thing, I'd be happy to take it in instalments. Be it through individual towns, all the way up to continents.
Honestly it'll probably be easier getting me the previous item on the list.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Holy Internet quizes
| You Are Batman |
 Billionaire playboy by day. Saving the world by night. And you're not even a true superhero. Just someone with a lot of expensive toys! |
What the hell does that mean "You aren't a true super hero. Just someone with a lot of expensive toys."? If Batman isn't a true super hero then I don't know what a super hero is. As far as I'm concerned Batman is THE SUPERHERO. Only a few others come close.* But I'm not going to show how much of a dork I am right now.**
No I didn't keep taking the quiz until I got Batman. Though I did take it a second time and chaged one answer and suddenly I was Electra.
Who ever knew Batman should be a joke writer?
*Flash will always be my all time favorite hero. I have been collecting Flash Comics since 1989, and after a lot of searching since then I have almost every flash comic since 1983, and I have a whole bunch or random flash comics from the 60's and 70's.
**Err, see the previous addendum. That pretty much shows it.
Monday, July 17, 2006
If it weren't for the internet I'd never know...
| You Should Be a Joke Writer |
 You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation. Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life... You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material. You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer. |
Hooray pointless internet quizes. What better way to pass the time at work while learning the innermost secrets of one's soul.
Next I'm off to learn which superhero I am based on a very scientific five question quiz. Answers most certainly to follow.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Ami's reasons why not
To be honest I've kinda lost interest in blogging. Here, in no particular order, is a list as to why my interest has dropped.
1) Summer Movies. Superman, Pirates of the Caribbean, A Scanner Darkly, The Prairie home Companion. There is just so much time that exists in the day. And I have a horrid addiction to the cinema.
2) A mildly active social life. When I started blogging I had none, and now, I do. I'm not saying that one needn't have a life to be a blogger, far from it. Just that I'm a lazy, lazy man and if I go out, I am too lazy to blog afterwards.
3) Work. The bit at Tribeca is good (in fact that's where I'm blogging from right now), and not at all busy (thus the blogging right now part). It's Frappacino season at Starbucks. Being sticky and reeking of coffee is not so conducive to blogging.
4) So I think this is the real reason. I kinda, sorta, have a girlfriend now. And by "kinda, sorta" I mean I do have a girlfriend right now. I just feel weird using the word girlfriend. Especially since the girl in question is eight (seven and a half to be more accurate) years younger than me. And especially since she is going off to college come the end of August. A college, which - though in NY State - is far away enough that our relationship now has a potential expiration date when she leaves. Also because no one knows we are dating (well, three people do, but they don't count, no one else knows) and we are keeping it quiet (her decision, not mine - though admittedly it's one I very much agree with presently).
And that is really the problem. I'm trying to spend as much time with her as possible before she leaves. Which leads me to my next problem.
Last we spoke she was not in the best of moods. I tried to coax the reason out, but she remained silent. After a movie she confessed that she realized that though she didn't want to become too attached to me (for the reasons stipulated above, i.e college) she realized she probably won't be able to help it (yay me and my ladykiller like smooth moves) which will make leaving even harder.
I tried to play it off as cool as I could, talking about how more worrying = less fun right now. Something along the lines of we'll see what happens when it happens. Trying to keep everything relaxed and such.
There is, however, that very selfish part of me that wants her feeling attached to me, that wants it to be hard for her to leave. That desires that sort of attention. Mostly because it's gonna freaking kill me when she leaves. Hell, I wind up missing her on the few days we spend apart. I don't even want to think about when it's much more permanent.
Though I've really only had one serious relationship in my life, I'd like to think I have had my fair share of relationships in general. In the past, with the girls I've dated, I always felt like I was playing a role. Like if I dated her (all the various hers I've dated) long enough I would feel the way one is supposed to feel towards someone you're dating. Even the serious relationship I jumped into too serious too quick and said things I realized later I didn't really mean.
This is the first time I've actually been as happy as I thought I was supposed to be in my previous relationships. It's an odd sensation, and not one that I want to give up anytime soon. I'm not going to get all mushy, or use any grandiose terms, just suffice to say that I like J_ (the girlfriend) a lot, more than I think I have anyone before.
It's just our timing that sucks.
P.S. yeah, so I'm sick of these boring, serious posts. The next one (hopefully the next few) will be funny and interesting - or if nothing else at least funny. I'm getting sick of my dopey angsty mopey complaining crap. It's totally time to stop being that.
1) Summer Movies. Superman, Pirates of the Caribbean, A Scanner Darkly, The Prairie home Companion. There is just so much time that exists in the day. And I have a horrid addiction to the cinema.
2) A mildly active social life. When I started blogging I had none, and now, I do. I'm not saying that one needn't have a life to be a blogger, far from it. Just that I'm a lazy, lazy man and if I go out, I am too lazy to blog afterwards.
3) Work. The bit at Tribeca is good (in fact that's where I'm blogging from right now), and not at all busy (thus the blogging right now part). It's Frappacino season at Starbucks. Being sticky and reeking of coffee is not so conducive to blogging.
4) So I think this is the real reason. I kinda, sorta, have a girlfriend now. And by "kinda, sorta" I mean I do have a girlfriend right now. I just feel weird using the word girlfriend. Especially since the girl in question is eight (seven and a half to be more accurate) years younger than me. And especially since she is going off to college come the end of August. A college, which - though in NY State - is far away enough that our relationship now has a potential expiration date when she leaves. Also because no one knows we are dating (well, three people do, but they don't count, no one else knows) and we are keeping it quiet (her decision, not mine - though admittedly it's one I very much agree with presently).
And that is really the problem. I'm trying to spend as much time with her as possible before she leaves. Which leads me to my next problem.
Last we spoke she was not in the best of moods. I tried to coax the reason out, but she remained silent. After a movie she confessed that she realized that though she didn't want to become too attached to me (for the reasons stipulated above, i.e college) she realized she probably won't be able to help it (yay me and my ladykiller like smooth moves) which will make leaving even harder.
I tried to play it off as cool as I could, talking about how more worrying = less fun right now. Something along the lines of we'll see what happens when it happens. Trying to keep everything relaxed and such.
There is, however, that very selfish part of me that wants her feeling attached to me, that wants it to be hard for her to leave. That desires that sort of attention. Mostly because it's gonna freaking kill me when she leaves. Hell, I wind up missing her on the few days we spend apart. I don't even want to think about when it's much more permanent.
Though I've really only had one serious relationship in my life, I'd like to think I have had my fair share of relationships in general. In the past, with the girls I've dated, I always felt like I was playing a role. Like if I dated her (all the various hers I've dated) long enough I would feel the way one is supposed to feel towards someone you're dating. Even the serious relationship I jumped into too serious too quick and said things I realized later I didn't really mean.
This is the first time I've actually been as happy as I thought I was supposed to be in my previous relationships. It's an odd sensation, and not one that I want to give up anytime soon. I'm not going to get all mushy, or use any grandiose terms, just suffice to say that I like J_ (the girlfriend) a lot, more than I think I have anyone before.
It's just our timing that sucks.
P.S. yeah, so I'm sick of these boring, serious posts. The next one (hopefully the next few) will be funny and interesting - or if nothing else at least funny. I'm getting sick of my dopey angsty mopey complaining crap. It's totally time to stop being that.
Monday, July 03, 2006
you should be watching
Nobody's Watching Part 1
Why this show wasn't picked up I'll never know. It was created by Bill Lawrence (he created Scrubs) and is freaking hilarious. Not like any other sitcom you've ever seen before, and exactly like every other sitcom you've seen.
To see parts two and three go here for part 2 and here for part three.
Why this show wasn't picked up I'll never know. It was created by Bill Lawrence (he created Scrubs) and is freaking hilarious. Not like any other sitcom you've ever seen before, and exactly like every other sitcom you've seen.
To see parts two and three go here for part 2 and here for part three.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
I'm boned
I think I might have broken my foot last weekend when I was in Philadelphia. Well, maybe more fractured than out and out broken as I have been able to walk on it all week. Not a serious fracture, but still, it hurts and isn't completely symetrical with the other foot (there is a bump on the left foot - the potentially fractured foot - that isn't on the right) and the bruise isn't healing as fast as I would like.
Thing is, I have no health insurance, I don't work enough hours at Starbucks to get it through them, and I can't afford it on my own. So I have to try and find a free clinic or something much cheaper than a regular doctor. My mom suggested just going to the emergency room.
My response (sarcastically): Yeah, because the emergency room doesn't charge a tremendous amount of money.
Her: Then what to people without medical insurance do when they go to the emergency room?
Me: They go into debt, which is why many people don't go to the doctor, they pay their rent and buy food instead.
Her: Oh.
So here I am about to try and find a free clinic or something that I can go to, because I don't want my foot to be screwed up for the rest of my life. And if I have to go to a regular doctor (not that I'm not saying free clinic doctors aren't real, because they are), I will. It's just that I probably won't be able to afford going to a doctor and getting all the x-rays and casts and everything, and then fly out to Winnipeg for the wedding I plan on going to.
So either way, I'm boned.
Thing is, I have no health insurance, I don't work enough hours at Starbucks to get it through them, and I can't afford it on my own. So I have to try and find a free clinic or something much cheaper than a regular doctor. My mom suggested just going to the emergency room.
My response (sarcastically): Yeah, because the emergency room doesn't charge a tremendous amount of money.
Her: Then what to people without medical insurance do when they go to the emergency room?
Me: They go into debt, which is why many people don't go to the doctor, they pay their rent and buy food instead.
Her: Oh.
So here I am about to try and find a free clinic or something that I can go to, because I don't want my foot to be screwed up for the rest of my life. And if I have to go to a regular doctor (not that I'm not saying free clinic doctors aren't real, because they are), I will. It's just that I probably won't be able to afford going to a doctor and getting all the x-rays and casts and everything, and then fly out to Winnipeg for the wedding I plan on going to.
So either way, I'm boned.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Shhh... I'm hunting Wabits
Brooklyn, for reasons beyond my understanding, remains a very romantacized borough in my head. Queens was never that mysterious, and Manahattan - though intimidating - never had that same romantic quality. Which is not to say there is no romance in Manahattan, there is plenty of romance about the isle; just not the same type of romance found to my south. Staten Island is plain and seems very suburban, while The Bronx holds no appeal to me what so ever. It's all about Brooklyn.
When I think of Brooklyn I can't help but picture every last Jewish New York story. In my mind they all occur in Brooklyn. And it's always the 1930's or 40's. This is partly due to Woody Allen and Martin Scorcese, but mostly due to listening to all my grandparents stories, and the stories of all the old men and women in my father's synogogue, hearing them regail about their youth in that particular boro. It reeks of the immigrant experience so much more so than the other boroughs, and as such, has a romanticized appeal. I can't really explain it.
Which is why I was so overwhehlmed yesterday walking on the Coney Island Boardwalk, then catching a Coney Island Cyclones game. Coney Island - the place where all our grandfathers took all our grandmothers (and potential grandmothers) out on dates; to ride the rides, see the sites, smell the ocean. The cyclone roller coster, or the wonder wheel ferris wheel, or the parachute jump whose name I don't know, and which has since closed down.
My foot still hurts, but I forced myself to walk around as much as I could, as if I was in some sort of magic wonderland rather than a mildly delapidated urban beach. The smell of the Original Nathan's hotdog stand (established 1916 - and if you've ever been to NY you know what Nathan's is) wafted through the salty air, causing me to desire to break my vegitarian habits and wolf down a hotdog with everything on it (well maybe not sourkraut).
I wish I could say that the Baseball game was exciting, but the Cyclones are a horrible, horrible team this year. They lost their first game to the the Staten Island Yankees 18-0, and last night lost again 5-2. So I guess they are at least going in the right direction. The park, however, was gorgeous, small, maybe 9000 seats, and not a single bad one in the house. We sat about seventeen rows up a little past first base but not quite yet right field. I really wish I was a better writer and could describe the experience in it's fullest and romanticized glory, but really I just had a good time.
Oh yeah, the reason for this posts title check this out.
When I think of Brooklyn I can't help but picture every last Jewish New York story. In my mind they all occur in Brooklyn. And it's always the 1930's or 40's. This is partly due to Woody Allen and Martin Scorcese, but mostly due to listening to all my grandparents stories, and the stories of all the old men and women in my father's synogogue, hearing them regail about their youth in that particular boro. It reeks of the immigrant experience so much more so than the other boroughs, and as such, has a romanticized appeal. I can't really explain it.
Which is why I was so overwhehlmed yesterday walking on the Coney Island Boardwalk, then catching a Coney Island Cyclones game. Coney Island - the place where all our grandfathers took all our grandmothers (and potential grandmothers) out on dates; to ride the rides, see the sites, smell the ocean. The cyclone roller coster, or the wonder wheel ferris wheel, or the parachute jump whose name I don't know, and which has since closed down.
My foot still hurts, but I forced myself to walk around as much as I could, as if I was in some sort of magic wonderland rather than a mildly delapidated urban beach. The smell of the Original Nathan's hotdog stand (established 1916 - and if you've ever been to NY you know what Nathan's is) wafted through the salty air, causing me to desire to break my vegitarian habits and wolf down a hotdog with everything on it (well maybe not sourkraut).
I wish I could say that the Baseball game was exciting, but the Cyclones are a horrible, horrible team this year. They lost their first game to the the Staten Island Yankees 18-0, and last night lost again 5-2. So I guess they are at least going in the right direction. The park, however, was gorgeous, small, maybe 9000 seats, and not a single bad one in the house. We sat about seventeen rows up a little past first base but not quite yet right field. I really wish I was a better writer and could describe the experience in it's fullest and romanticized glory, but really I just had a good time.
Oh yeah, the reason for this posts title check this out.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
I can't come up with good title
It's very sunny outside. It's sunny outside and I'm having a panic attack.
This morning was uneventful.
I ordered "the skeleton key" on HBO on demand. It wasn't very good.
It's sunny outside and I have to go to work in about a half hour.
I walked to the library. I need reading material for the ride down to Philadelphia this weekend. I walked because it's just that nice outside. It's really very nice.
I'm wearing new jeans that I think might be girl jeans due to the way the bottom of the legs are all frayed. They are only frayed in the front around the cuffs, not the back. It bothers me that pants now come pre-frayed, but that's not why I'm having a panic attack. It's just a little thing.
But it's sunny outside and as the pants fit pretty well, I'm not going to really worry as to whether they are girl jeans or not (I'm pretty sure not as they are maked 30 x 30 and not in some girl size). Soon I'm going to have to change my pants because I have to go to work and jeans are not allowed at Starbucks.
On the way home from the library, under the bright, bright sun, I had to sit down on the curb just to keep from hyperventilating.
I'm not an emotional guy, unless you count awkward as an emotion, then I'd be incredibly emotional. Really though I'm more dead pan. Not that I don't have emotions, I just don't really show them, doubly so when I'm uncomfortable and awkward (i.e the majority of my life).
I haven't been sleeping well all week. Lots of weird dreams. Most of them involve me running away or hurting people I love then crying about it, but that sounds lame and I'm not going to get into it.
I threw my back out on Sunday helping to clean out the garage (that's not a dream, it happened, though I wish it was only a dream). Apparently six encyclopidia judaicas are heavy and you shouldn't try to lift them all at once, especially not with your back. I learned that the hard way.
On Monday none of the other interns showed up at work and I was swamped. And my back hurt. But that really has nothing to do with the panic attack.
I opened on Tuesday, it's a pain, but not really a big deal.
Wenesday was fine.
Today it's sunny outside. It's been cloudy or rainy all week long and now it's sunny out. It's kinda cheesy really, but that has only a little to do with the panic attack.
Today, not so long ago, J_ called and asked if she could meet me outside. I brushed my teeth, changed out of my pajama's, turned off The Skeleton Key (I missed the last five minutes) put on some deoderant and walked out onto the front stoop.
J_, in my book is always adorable, and today was no exception.
Anyway, I've known for a little while that there is some guy out there with whom J_ is infatuated. She's mentioned said guy in the past but never who he was. Today I found out.
Today, under the bright sun, on my front stoop I found out it was me.
Her lips quivered and she did her best (and over all succeeded) to choke back emotion, as I sat her down.
"The thing is," I said, "I like you too. A lot. A lot a lot." I said in almost a complete deadpan. "But...." And I paused because I had no idea what to say next. Should I ask her out, should I leave it be? I'm eight years older than her. She just graduated high school last week.
"It's OK, you can say it, I'm a trooper." She said (and here is were she almost didn't succeed in choking back her emotion, but she is as she says, a trooper). And that was when my heart broke. I never before in my entire life wanted to grab onto someone and never let go like I did at that moment.
"You don't even know what I'm going to say." I said. She smiled, very encouraging. "But..." I continued still deadpan (damn I'm a jackass), "it doesn't freak you out I'm that much older than you, or that anything we might have has an experation date when you go off to college in the end of the summer?" Because those were the big concerns floating around in my head, two of the biggest reasons (the first more than the second) that I hadn't said or done anything before (also I'm a coward).
Apparently these were only my issues.
So I asked her out. And she said yes. And then I kissed her. And then she had to go because she was having lunch with freinds, and I had to go to the bank and the library, and buy a gift for my freind, all before I start work (in 12 minutes - I'm going to be late). So I'm calling her on Monday to arrange said date.
First I think I was a bit too forward with the kiss, and that's the first issue. The second, I'm eight years older than her and I feel like a skeeze. If I wasn't me I'd be making fun of me behind my back. It just seems wrong. So on my way back from the library I had to sit down because I was having a panic attack. Literally, I was hyperventilating and freaking out.
I finally got home, and called my freind Charlie, who helped talk me down. Charlie is possibly the coolest ever. "Well the fact that you feel so weird about it all is proof you aren't a skeeze." She said.
"Yeah, but what about when I stop feeling weird about it?"
And she laughed and didn't have an answer, which was cool, because I didn't call to get an answer and she knew t hat. Charlie is just cool that way, and I felt better after I hung up.
Then I wrote this post.
And now, still freaking out (but no longer in a panic attack), I have to change and run to work, and I wonder (as J_ and I work together) how much of this do my fellow co-workers know?
And I freak out all over again.
This morning was uneventful.
I ordered "the skeleton key" on HBO on demand. It wasn't very good.
It's sunny outside and I have to go to work in about a half hour.
I walked to the library. I need reading material for the ride down to Philadelphia this weekend. I walked because it's just that nice outside. It's really very nice.
I'm wearing new jeans that I think might be girl jeans due to the way the bottom of the legs are all frayed. They are only frayed in the front around the cuffs, not the back. It bothers me that pants now come pre-frayed, but that's not why I'm having a panic attack. It's just a little thing.
But it's sunny outside and as the pants fit pretty well, I'm not going to really worry as to whether they are girl jeans or not (I'm pretty sure not as they are maked 30 x 30 and not in some girl size). Soon I'm going to have to change my pants because I have to go to work and jeans are not allowed at Starbucks.
On the way home from the library, under the bright, bright sun, I had to sit down on the curb just to keep from hyperventilating.
I'm not an emotional guy, unless you count awkward as an emotion, then I'd be incredibly emotional. Really though I'm more dead pan. Not that I don't have emotions, I just don't really show them, doubly so when I'm uncomfortable and awkward (i.e the majority of my life).
I haven't been sleeping well all week. Lots of weird dreams. Most of them involve me running away or hurting people I love then crying about it, but that sounds lame and I'm not going to get into it.
I threw my back out on Sunday helping to clean out the garage (that's not a dream, it happened, though I wish it was only a dream). Apparently six encyclopidia judaicas are heavy and you shouldn't try to lift them all at once, especially not with your back. I learned that the hard way.
On Monday none of the other interns showed up at work and I was swamped. And my back hurt. But that really has nothing to do with the panic attack.
I opened on Tuesday, it's a pain, but not really a big deal.
Wenesday was fine.
Today it's sunny outside. It's been cloudy or rainy all week long and now it's sunny out. It's kinda cheesy really, but that has only a little to do with the panic attack.
Today, not so long ago, J_ called and asked if she could meet me outside. I brushed my teeth, changed out of my pajama's, turned off The Skeleton Key (I missed the last five minutes) put on some deoderant and walked out onto the front stoop.
J_, in my book is always adorable, and today was no exception.
Anyway, I've known for a little while that there is some guy out there with whom J_ is infatuated. She's mentioned said guy in the past but never who he was. Today I found out.
Today, under the bright sun, on my front stoop I found out it was me.
Her lips quivered and she did her best (and over all succeeded) to choke back emotion, as I sat her down.
"The thing is," I said, "I like you too. A lot. A lot a lot." I said in almost a complete deadpan. "But...." And I paused because I had no idea what to say next. Should I ask her out, should I leave it be? I'm eight years older than her. She just graduated high school last week.
"It's OK, you can say it, I'm a trooper." She said (and here is were she almost didn't succeed in choking back her emotion, but she is as she says, a trooper). And that was when my heart broke. I never before in my entire life wanted to grab onto someone and never let go like I did at that moment.
"You don't even know what I'm going to say." I said. She smiled, very encouraging. "But..." I continued still deadpan (damn I'm a jackass), "it doesn't freak you out I'm that much older than you, or that anything we might have has an experation date when you go off to college in the end of the summer?" Because those were the big concerns floating around in my head, two of the biggest reasons (the first more than the second) that I hadn't said or done anything before (also I'm a coward).
Apparently these were only my issues.
So I asked her out. And she said yes. And then I kissed her. And then she had to go because she was having lunch with freinds, and I had to go to the bank and the library, and buy a gift for my freind, all before I start work (in 12 minutes - I'm going to be late). So I'm calling her on Monday to arrange said date.
First I think I was a bit too forward with the kiss, and that's the first issue. The second, I'm eight years older than her and I feel like a skeeze. If I wasn't me I'd be making fun of me behind my back. It just seems wrong. So on my way back from the library I had to sit down because I was having a panic attack. Literally, I was hyperventilating and freaking out.
I finally got home, and called my freind Charlie, who helped talk me down. Charlie is possibly the coolest ever. "Well the fact that you feel so weird about it all is proof you aren't a skeeze." She said.
"Yeah, but what about when I stop feeling weird about it?"
And she laughed and didn't have an answer, which was cool, because I didn't call to get an answer and she knew t hat. Charlie is just cool that way, and I felt better after I hung up.
Then I wrote this post.
And now, still freaking out (but no longer in a panic attack), I have to change and run to work, and I wonder (as J_ and I work together) how much of this do my fellow co-workers know?
And I freak out all over again.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Because Rawbean asked
From August 25th until the 27th I shall be in Winnipeg, Manitoba. I have a wedding to attend (and I really should RVSP) on the 27th and I'm awfully excited.
And for any other stalkers who need to be updated as to my plans, I shall be in Phillidelphia from June 16th until the 18th for a bachelor weekend for the groom of the aforementioned wedding up in Canada.
Philly is all set, there's about five of us all crashing at a freinds place.
Canada is a entirely different sotry. I need to find cheap airfare to and then cheap accomidations while in the frozen north. I'm still waiting for the day when instant teleportation is both technologically viable and cheap enough for the public to use. That and flying cars. Man, that would be sweet.
Things to do before the wedding: find a good dry cleaners for my suit, get my shoes shined, and maybe buy a nice new shirt and tie. Also find out where they are registered (dear god please somewhere that has an outlet in Northeast USA) and buy a wedding present. But I still have plenty of time (said the hare right before he took a nap in the middle of the race).
And for any other stalkers who need to be updated as to my plans, I shall be in Phillidelphia from June 16th until the 18th for a bachelor weekend for the groom of the aforementioned wedding up in Canada.
Philly is all set, there's about five of us all crashing at a freinds place.
Canada is a entirely different sotry. I need to find cheap airfare to and then cheap accomidations while in the frozen north. I'm still waiting for the day when instant teleportation is both technologically viable and cheap enough for the public to use. That and flying cars. Man, that would be sweet.
Things to do before the wedding: find a good dry cleaners for my suit, get my shoes shined, and maybe buy a nice new shirt and tie. Also find out where they are registered (dear god please somewhere that has an outlet in Northeast USA) and buy a wedding present. But I still have plenty of time (said the hare right before he took a nap in the middle of the race).
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Note To Self:
On days scheduled to open Starbucks (5:30 AM), DON'T drive out with freinds to Long Beach that same evening, especially if you don't know how to navigate through Long Island.
Addendum: Go back to Long Beach when better rested.
Also, I hate the beach, but love the ocean. Someone should develop a snow shoe but for sand to keep ones feet (and shoes) from being drenched in sand.
So Very Tired.
Addendum: Go back to Long Beach when better rested.
Also, I hate the beach, but love the ocean. Someone should develop a snow shoe but for sand to keep ones feet (and shoes) from being drenched in sand.
So Very Tired.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Not quite duck soup
It's important to have a destination. Even if the journey is where the fun is found, without a destination one won't know when to stop, or how far to go before turning around.
I am an idiot.
Case in point:
Last Thursday I went for a walk with J_ after work. We had tried to originize a group outing to the local pond for a late afternoon picnic and to feed the ducks. All our freinds were otherwise occupied, and as we had already eaten we scrapped the picnic and just went to feed the ducks ourselves.
I'm not sure exactly what a group of ducks are called (flock? gaggle? something else?) but ducks - as I understand nature (and I am an accredited naturologist) - usually travel together. That is why, upon arriving at the pond I was confused to find a lone black duck on the water. All by itself, no other duck in sight. Had I considered this more carefully perhaps I would have thought this to be an omen, a sign of things to come.
But I didn't, and things did come. Discouredged that there weren't ducks (plural) to feed, and that the lone duck had no interest in our company or our bread (definately an omen), we kept on walking past the pond through the small park.
After coming upon the other half of the park, not yet renovated, the asphalt gave way to a very narrow dirt path walled by talk stalks of something, (reeds? straw? something along those lines anyway.
I don't live in Manhattan. Hell I barely even live in Queens, but I do in fact live in Queens and Queens is part of New York City, and one wouldn't suspect any bit of nature to go on too far. When one thinks of NYC one isn't thinking nature. Given that, I thought to myself how far can this dirt path really go? (Please see statement above) and with J_ a bit reluctant in tow, walked into the reeds.
It started off as a nice walk. We talked about mostly inconsequintial things and didn't quite realize the ground slowly shifting from dirt to mud beneath our feet.
After about forty minutes, our sneakers were covered in mud. The path split into two, on direction petering off into the underbrush, the other appeared to open up further down (what would Robert Frost do?).
It was at this point, when we thought our feet couldn't get any muddier that J_ said we should probably turn around and go back the way we came. I stood opposed to that, rationalizing that we were probably more than halfway down the path (and on that account I was correct) thus there would be less mud to walk through by trecking forward than by turning back. "We've come this far." I said, "We migth as well continue to the bitter end."
I took the lead, confident in my manliness guiding us through nature. I would conquor the terrain. Mud doesn't bother man. Man revels in mud, dirt and nature are his home. Water on the other hand...
Sploosh! Two steps forward and we were both ankle deep in water. Forget the mud, the mud was pleasant in comparison. The water was cold and grimy, and all together unpleasant.
The reeds receded behind us and a marsh like area, the size of a football feild loomed in front of us. And of course, there were the ducks. Away from the larger body of water we spotted Northern Blvd. and decided to make our way back towards civilization, the ducks be damned.
Sloshing through the ankle deep water, stepping on dry and dead reeds to keep our pants as dry as possible we waded towards our salvation.
J_ lost her balance at a few points, dropping to her knees, and of course I teased her mercilessly for lacking my natural grace in the water. Fed up with wading (wet up to her knees) J_ pointed straight forward, suggesting we just cut through it all, we were already as wet as can be. I, on the other hand, wanted to continue working the circumfrance of the marsh, it just seemed safer.
I was the man, and as the man I should have stood ground. But just like many other men before, I did something stupid because a girl asked.
So we took J_'s path, which really wasn't a path, until, halfway across, we were stopped by a stream leading down into the main pond behind us. The stream was about five feet across, and I thought to myself I could easily jump this. Then I turned to J_ and said, "I can easily jump this."
The few things I didn't consider at the time: I was already standing ankle deep in water and my shoes were wet and heavy. Though I could have jumped five feet across easy in high school, I am about ten years older and very out of shape. That the stream could concievably be deeper than the water in which I then stood. (Once again see the beginning)
So I jumped.
So I landed.
But not on the other side.
And the water was far deeper in the stream than on either side of it.
And I fell waist deep into the dirty, salty, cold, disgusting water.
J_ wisely took the path I suggested.
We splashed through the rest of the marsh and finally (with a mild scare of poison ivy) made it to Northern Blvd.
The walk back home, though the company was pleasant, was the opposite of comfortable.
Stupid, stupid ducks.
I am an idiot.
Case in point:
Last Thursday I went for a walk with J_ after work. We had tried to originize a group outing to the local pond for a late afternoon picnic and to feed the ducks. All our freinds were otherwise occupied, and as we had already eaten we scrapped the picnic and just went to feed the ducks ourselves.
I'm not sure exactly what a group of ducks are called (flock? gaggle? something else?) but ducks - as I understand nature (and I am an accredited naturologist) - usually travel together. That is why, upon arriving at the pond I was confused to find a lone black duck on the water. All by itself, no other duck in sight. Had I considered this more carefully perhaps I would have thought this to be an omen, a sign of things to come.
But I didn't, and things did come. Discouredged that there weren't ducks (plural) to feed, and that the lone duck had no interest in our company or our bread (definately an omen), we kept on walking past the pond through the small park.
After coming upon the other half of the park, not yet renovated, the asphalt gave way to a very narrow dirt path walled by talk stalks of something, (reeds? straw? something along those lines anyway.
I don't live in Manhattan. Hell I barely even live in Queens, but I do in fact live in Queens and Queens is part of New York City, and one wouldn't suspect any bit of nature to go on too far. When one thinks of NYC one isn't thinking nature. Given that, I thought to myself how far can this dirt path really go? (Please see statement above) and with J_ a bit reluctant in tow, walked into the reeds.
It started off as a nice walk. We talked about mostly inconsequintial things and didn't quite realize the ground slowly shifting from dirt to mud beneath our feet.
After about forty minutes, our sneakers were covered in mud. The path split into two, on direction petering off into the underbrush, the other appeared to open up further down (what would Robert Frost do?).
It was at this point, when we thought our feet couldn't get any muddier that J_ said we should probably turn around and go back the way we came. I stood opposed to that, rationalizing that we were probably more than halfway down the path (and on that account I was correct) thus there would be less mud to walk through by trecking forward than by turning back. "We've come this far." I said, "We migth as well continue to the bitter end."
I took the lead, confident in my manliness guiding us through nature. I would conquor the terrain. Mud doesn't bother man. Man revels in mud, dirt and nature are his home. Water on the other hand...
Sploosh! Two steps forward and we were both ankle deep in water. Forget the mud, the mud was pleasant in comparison. The water was cold and grimy, and all together unpleasant.
The reeds receded behind us and a marsh like area, the size of a football feild loomed in front of us. And of course, there were the ducks. Away from the larger body of water we spotted Northern Blvd. and decided to make our way back towards civilization, the ducks be damned.
Sloshing through the ankle deep water, stepping on dry and dead reeds to keep our pants as dry as possible we waded towards our salvation.
J_ lost her balance at a few points, dropping to her knees, and of course I teased her mercilessly for lacking my natural grace in the water. Fed up with wading (wet up to her knees) J_ pointed straight forward, suggesting we just cut through it all, we were already as wet as can be. I, on the other hand, wanted to continue working the circumfrance of the marsh, it just seemed safer.
I was the man, and as the man I should have stood ground. But just like many other men before, I did something stupid because a girl asked.
So we took J_'s path, which really wasn't a path, until, halfway across, we were stopped by a stream leading down into the main pond behind us. The stream was about five feet across, and I thought to myself I could easily jump this. Then I turned to J_ and said, "I can easily jump this."
The few things I didn't consider at the time: I was already standing ankle deep in water and my shoes were wet and heavy. Though I could have jumped five feet across easy in high school, I am about ten years older and very out of shape. That the stream could concievably be deeper than the water in which I then stood. (Once again see the beginning)
So I jumped.
So I landed.
But not on the other side.
And the water was far deeper in the stream than on either side of it.
And I fell waist deep into the dirty, salty, cold, disgusting water.
J_ wisely took the path I suggested.
We splashed through the rest of the marsh and finally (with a mild scare of poison ivy) made it to Northern Blvd.
The walk back home, though the company was pleasant, was the opposite of comfortable.
Stupid, stupid ducks.
Monday, May 15, 2006
In honor of a tepid final episode
I was hoping for Josh, but I'm pretty happy with my results.
I'm:
The idealistic speechwriter is well-liked by just about everyone. He's known for his excellent writing, sense of humor, and tendency to be clutzy. Although being younger than the rest of the staff, he's often treated as so, much to his dismay.
So, which one are you?
I'm:
The idealistic speechwriter is well-liked by just about everyone. He's known for his excellent writing, sense of humor, and tendency to be clutzy. Although being younger than the rest of the staff, he's often treated as so, much to his dismay.
So, which one are you?
Friday, April 28, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Open mouth insert food (blogger edition)
So I take back everything I wrote in my previous blog (save the bit about my passover post, it's still coming, very late, I just gotta make it sound right).
Today at work (internship) I was given a free pass to see Akeela and the Bee at the Tribeca Film Festival tonight (it officially opens in two days). I can't go (gonna get a few drinks with some pals instead), but I'm sure I can find someone to give the ticket too.
In addition, tommorrow night I am going to see a short film program for free to cover it for my boss (as in write an analysis of the shorts and report back the filmmakers and shorts worth following up on).
I've gotta admit, that's pretty cool.
Now if only I could find a job that would pay me for this kinda stuff I'd be set.
Today at work (internship) I was given a free pass to see Akeela and the Bee at the Tribeca Film Festival tonight (it officially opens in two days). I can't go (gonna get a few drinks with some pals instead), but I'm sure I can find someone to give the ticket too.
In addition, tommorrow night I am going to see a short film program for free to cover it for my boss (as in write an analysis of the shorts and report back the filmmakers and shorts worth following up on).
I've gotta admit, that's pretty cool.
Now if only I could find a job that would pay me for this kinda stuff I'd be set.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Being too good at the mundane
At my internship there are the cool jobs I have to do, and the much less cool jobs.
The cool jobs aren't really that cool, just by comparison they are cool. For instasnce, calling up agents to see which famous actor, actress, director, or writer is available for a certian project and when they are available. Or reading a book, comic book, screenplay, or what have you and writing up some coverage for the boss. And even compiling lists of older movies with similar themes and plots as ones currently in development.
Jobs that aren't so cool involve the making of the coffee, compiling master lists of actors, writers, and directors, photocopying screenplays, and especially photocopying novels.
The problem being, I'm pretty good at the not so cool stuff. I know how to use excell pretty well, I actually make coffee professionally (well if you consider starbucks professional), and for some reason, I am the fastest photocopier - especially when it comes to novels. You see, when copying screenplays, plays, teleplays, or manuscripts, those just get fed quickly into the machine. Novels, published novels to be precise, come bound so one can't just feed it into the machine, one must go page by page, flipping through the book, to make a copy. I seem to be able to do this faster than my fellow interns. Not that much faster, but enough that I wind up the one doing it to save time.
The down side, not only do I hate the monotony of the photocopy machine, but when I'm out making copies, my fellow interns get to do the cool stuff (comparitivly anyway). Thus, I am penalized (of sorts) for being good at my job.
It's a really lame thing to complain about, especially as I like my fellow interns and wouldn't want them labouring away in the dark recess where the copy machine lies. But it's a pain and I'm in a complaining mood. So there.
My passover post (which I have been working on, put far more time and effort into a blog post than probably healthy) will drop sometime early next week, after the craziness that is passover has, er.. passed.
The cool jobs aren't really that cool, just by comparison they are cool. For instasnce, calling up agents to see which famous actor, actress, director, or writer is available for a certian project and when they are available. Or reading a book, comic book, screenplay, or what have you and writing up some coverage for the boss. And even compiling lists of older movies with similar themes and plots as ones currently in development.
Jobs that aren't so cool involve the making of the coffee, compiling master lists of actors, writers, and directors, photocopying screenplays, and especially photocopying novels.
The problem being, I'm pretty good at the not so cool stuff. I know how to use excell pretty well, I actually make coffee professionally (well if you consider starbucks professional), and for some reason, I am the fastest photocopier - especially when it comes to novels. You see, when copying screenplays, plays, teleplays, or manuscripts, those just get fed quickly into the machine. Novels, published novels to be precise, come bound so one can't just feed it into the machine, one must go page by page, flipping through the book, to make a copy. I seem to be able to do this faster than my fellow interns. Not that much faster, but enough that I wind up the one doing it to save time.
The down side, not only do I hate the monotony of the photocopy machine, but when I'm out making copies, my fellow interns get to do the cool stuff (comparitivly anyway). Thus, I am penalized (of sorts) for being good at my job.
It's a really lame thing to complain about, especially as I like my fellow interns and wouldn't want them labouring away in the dark recess where the copy machine lies. But it's a pain and I'm in a complaining mood. So there.
My passover post (which I have been working on, put far more time and effort into a blog post than probably healthy) will drop sometime early next week, after the craziness that is passover has, er.. passed.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
The wrong side of the poverty line
Not to make thousands of unemployed and homeless peoples problems seem insignifigant but there is something depressing when doing ones taxes and realizing how little money one (me) actually made last year.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
I have no desire to be a pedophile
I'm not sick and twisted, it isn't that at all.
There are some strange thoughts that pass through one's head. For instance, I like cheese. It isn't so strange but it is true. I am lactose intolerant but I adore cheese. Not all cheese mind you, the gooier stinkier cheeses I tend to stay away from; and though I do like the ease of American cheese, I prefer my cheeses to be far less chemically processed and treated. Give me a really bold sharp Cheddar, or some fresh Mozzarella, or maybe some Havarti with dill, Munster, or a good smoked cheese and you'll see me happy. I can't ever eat too much of it lest I spend the rest of my day in the WC (as the British say, or at least that's what I've been led to believe); so just like everything else that's good in life I must take it in moderation.
Moderation I've been told is the best philosophy (Epicurus, what a sage you were). Unfortunately moderation is a difficult when discussing infatuation. In fact, moderation only makes things that much worse.
Once again, I am no pedophile. I do not lust after prepubescent girls. I don't in fact lust (a term I'm not so much a fan of to begin with as it makes the forgone conclusion that I am lusting after someone, and it really isn't lust, but I'll get to that in a moment) after some post-pubescent girls - the "girls" part being the operative word, not the "post-pubescent". I don't tend to imply I lust after boys only because I don't. I tend to go for females my own age, and if I think I'm too old to be called a "boy" then those my age shouldn't be called girls anymore. But as you are about to read, this is all irrelevant (quite unfortunately).
I have found myself more and more infatuated (not lusting or lustful, it really isn't a sex thing) with an 18 year old girl (see told you I'm not a pedophile, at least not technically - that is I'm not opposed to it, but the infatuation is not wholly based on aesthetics). It's getting quite bad really. Just her presence in the same room as me actually brightens my mood significantly. She is a friend, and though I am not a huggy person by nature, (I'm just not) holding her in my arms - in a hug as friends do (my New York friends are all huggy people - her included) - I realize I would follow her to the ends of the earth if she just happened to be going in that direction.
But I refuse to be that skeezy older guy who dates girls too young for him. Instead I'm going to keep on pretending I don't feel the way I do, because as I understand it, not having too much knowledge in the field of psychology, denial is a perfectly healthy way to deal with any situation.
There are some strange thoughts that pass through one's head. For instance, I like cheese. It isn't so strange but it is true. I am lactose intolerant but I adore cheese. Not all cheese mind you, the gooier stinkier cheeses I tend to stay away from; and though I do like the ease of American cheese, I prefer my cheeses to be far less chemically processed and treated. Give me a really bold sharp Cheddar, or some fresh Mozzarella, or maybe some Havarti with dill, Munster, or a good smoked cheese and you'll see me happy. I can't ever eat too much of it lest I spend the rest of my day in the WC (as the British say, or at least that's what I've been led to believe); so just like everything else that's good in life I must take it in moderation.
Moderation I've been told is the best philosophy (Epicurus, what a sage you were). Unfortunately moderation is a difficult when discussing infatuation. In fact, moderation only makes things that much worse.
Once again, I am no pedophile. I do not lust after prepubescent girls. I don't in fact lust (a term I'm not so much a fan of to begin with as it makes the forgone conclusion that I am lusting after someone, and it really isn't lust, but I'll get to that in a moment) after some post-pubescent girls - the "girls" part being the operative word, not the "post-pubescent". I don't tend to imply I lust after boys only because I don't. I tend to go for females my own age, and if I think I'm too old to be called a "boy" then those my age shouldn't be called girls anymore. But as you are about to read, this is all irrelevant (quite unfortunately).
I have found myself more and more infatuated (not lusting or lustful, it really isn't a sex thing) with an 18 year old girl (see told you I'm not a pedophile, at least not technically - that is I'm not opposed to it, but the infatuation is not wholly based on aesthetics). It's getting quite bad really. Just her presence in the same room as me actually brightens my mood significantly. She is a friend, and though I am not a huggy person by nature, (I'm just not) holding her in my arms - in a hug as friends do (my New York friends are all huggy people - her included) - I realize I would follow her to the ends of the earth if she just happened to be going in that direction.
But I refuse to be that skeezy older guy who dates girls too young for him. Instead I'm going to keep on pretending I don't feel the way I do, because as I understand it, not having too much knowledge in the field of psychology, denial is a perfectly healthy way to deal with any situation.
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