A few things before the meat of this entry:
- When my anxiety began in May, I was pretty hefty. I could easily fold my hands over my stomach and rest them there without them sliding down. At one point, in August, when I saw the doctor again about all this, he said I had lost 10-20 pounds since the last time I was there. I must have been about 256 lbs.
I weighed myself on the scale in my parents' bathroom earlier this week. 216.3 lbs. I weighed myself last night. 216.9 lbs. I know what it was. Marble jack cheese (a combination of bleu cheese and colby jack cheese) from Sprouts, stunning deviled eggs my sister made for me, and I'm sure that's what did it. That's not to say I overindulged in either, but I had a little more than I should have. I'm not sitting in a corner somewhere in the house, bawling over slightly regained weight. I'm not that worried. My latest goal is fairly modest. I want to reach 200 lbs. by mid-December, but am hoping for somewhere in the late 190-range.
- Yesterday was an outstanding day. I received the revised cover of "What If They Lived?", as well as the proofs to look over, all in the .PDF format. Imagine if I had received the proofs in the mail and had to send them back marked up. These are the advances in technology I love, not iPods, iPads, iPhones and Kindles. I spent part of the day with the proofs yesterday, making sure that the words in there matched the words I wrote, and mostly they do. My writing partner did the editing, and I'm pleased so far. Some adjustments he made I'll have to rewrite to fit my own style, but I can live with what's there. However, I don't yet feel like working on the book this morning, since I want to shave off this crummy beard, and hopefully get in at least one basketball game today that's still sitting on the Tivo (amidst 4 or 5). I'll probably choose Phoenix Suns vs. Miami Heat. I tuned into the game last night when the Heat were beating the Suns at 114 to whatever, only to express my continued frustration with timeouts toward the end, because I have to extend the recording by half an hour to an hour, and I couldn't last night. So, reluctantly, I chose the edited midnight showing ESPN had of the game. Even though I don't like that they cut out some of the action in favor of moving the game along more swiftly, I'll take whatever basketball I can get right now. However, when the Lakers play the Timberwolves on Friday night, I'm making sure I get the whole game. Not so much because I'm a fan of either team (I prefer to float between teams), but because I want to see one from beginning to end, dammit! The last time I did that was during the NBA Finals many months ago. I want it again.
With all that out of my head, here we go.
Early yesterday morning, I had a series of "residual dreams" (what I call the ones you have while you're drifting in and out of consciousness before you wake up). The last one before I woke up was of a woman in bed, with an ass curved to look like Heaven. I'm a staunch leg man, but I consider the rear of the plane the bonus round. It's just lucky for me that it happens to be there, above two of my favorite pleasures in life.
So I thought, "Oh fucking great, another woman I can't have."
Remember, I'm waiting until we get closer to moving to Nevada before I start seriously pursuing the dating scene, whatever it is in and near Boulder City.
Well, a dream I had this morning before I woke up a little bit before 6 a.m. (I don't fight sleep anymore. When I wake up, I don't try to go back to sleep. My body tells me it's had enough sleep, depending on what I've done the previous day to either tire me out a lot or a little, and I go by that. It's fortunate for me that my body choose to get the day going before 6 now. That's enough for me, since I go to bed every night before 11 p.m.), made me think, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" much more than the previous dream.
I was in a plane, a smallish one, but one still with jet engines. However, this plane was apparently capable of flying at low altitudes, since it appeared to be a very local flight. I refuse to try to figure out why Sarah Palin and family were sitting in the row in front of me, though to my relief, they weren't involved at all in this dream. I attribute their appearance to having read her claim that she can beat Obama in 2012, a little while before I went to bed.
In the back were two girls. One was a blonde, but not a bubbly blonde. More of an I-can-kick-the-shit-out-of-this-day-and-get-exactly-what-I-want kind of blonde. Over the past few days, I've really been thinking about what kind of woman I want in my life, and I've hit upon one thing I will never compromise on: I want a partner-in-crime in life, someone with the same unseriousness about life as I'm rapidly working on to embrace fully. There's a scene in The Thin Man with William Powell and Myrna Loy where Nora Charles (Loy) says to Nick (Powell), "I read where they shot you five times in the tabloids." Nick replies, "That's not true. He didn't come anywhere near my tabloids." That's exactly what I want, and even though I want to date again soon enough, I will wait if that's what it comes to. I can easily learn about someone else's interests and perhaps become interested in those interests, too. I'm a naturally curious person. But I will not bend on that.
During the flight, this girl kept looking at me. Not staring, since she talked to her friend at various intervals, but she was looking at me. And I looked back and felt so strongly that this was the one girl I was looking for, and I needed to get up, sit next to her, and introduce myself. Not at all like Bud in Married with Children said to a girl in a movie theater in my favorite episode ("Movie Show," from season 7), "Hi. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm your new boyfriend," but confident enough that she'd still be interested after I started speaking. I wanted her.
Lucky for me, she and her friend jumped out of the plane into a field of sporadic flowers. Yes, jumped. The back door of the plane was still slightly open, since the plane was flying low enough so as not to require pressurization (I'm not sure if that's how it works on jet aircraft, since I haven't been much into aviation lately), and out they went, picking daisies or dandelions. I forgot which and it doesn't matter. I asked someone nearby what had happened and she told me that those two are daughters of employees of this airline, and they do that often.
I had my chance. It was right there. And my shock at what had just happened transferred into my waking state where I felt, well, a little devastated, I'll admit. Just a little. But mostly disappointed. She was perfect for me.
However, I turned on NPR on my radio while resting in bed until my dad and sister left for work (which I always do), and I thought to myself, "Well, at least I'm getting a lot closer to figuring out completely what I want in a woman. This is a good start."
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
I Did It!
I went to bed around 10:40 last night.
I slipped in between my covers, pushed the "sleep" button on my radio (always set for 90 minutes), and as I tried to sink into my two pillows as much as I could (they're stacked), I listened to a conversation on 89.9 KCRW about cab drivers in Los Angeles. I didn't catch what the reason was for this discussion, because 20 minutes later, I was asleep.
I awoke briefly in the middle of the night and then returned to infinity.
Next time I was aware of anything, I heard my dad turn on the computer in the living room, open the wooden shutters, and call for the dogs to go out.
It was 6:15 a.m.
I did it! I slept 7 hours!
During my anxiety (I know, I know, I keep talking about it, but I'm still piecing together the wreckage, looking for concrete reasons, and so deeply thankful for changes I've made both in diet and lifestyle), one of my biggest worries was sleep, especially in those nights when I'd go to sleep at 11 p.m., wake at 1 a.m., and that would be it. No more. It got scary for quite a while.
This is an incredible start to improvement of my life, which has been helped by a steady influx of fruits and vegetables, which I won't break away from just because I'm feeling better. The stress I used to have in my body because of lack of sleep is gone. I feel a little tired right now at 3:37 p.m., but I'm supposed to. I spent a few hours sitting on the couch, thumbing through my mom's word seek puzzle magazines (I love Penny Press and loathe Dell), picking out the puzzles I wanted to do, and did them. I got up a few times, for the bathroom, for some water, and to switch magazines, and only when I was done did I stretch remarkably and went out to get the mail.
I think my body's now used to bedtime at or near 11 p.m., and waking up some time in the 6 a.m. hour. Out of everything that happened to me emotionally from this, I hoped for this the most. And now I got it. And I know that Ventura Harbor Village tomorrow will be a lot more enjoyable because of this. Not that I had the anxiety when we went there the first time, but it's going to mean a lot more to me now. I'm free.
I slipped in between my covers, pushed the "sleep" button on my radio (always set for 90 minutes), and as I tried to sink into my two pillows as much as I could (they're stacked), I listened to a conversation on 89.9 KCRW about cab drivers in Los Angeles. I didn't catch what the reason was for this discussion, because 20 minutes later, I was asleep.
I awoke briefly in the middle of the night and then returned to infinity.
Next time I was aware of anything, I heard my dad turn on the computer in the living room, open the wooden shutters, and call for the dogs to go out.
It was 6:15 a.m.
I did it! I slept 7 hours!
During my anxiety (I know, I know, I keep talking about it, but I'm still piecing together the wreckage, looking for concrete reasons, and so deeply thankful for changes I've made both in diet and lifestyle), one of my biggest worries was sleep, especially in those nights when I'd go to sleep at 11 p.m., wake at 1 a.m., and that would be it. No more. It got scary for quite a while.
This is an incredible start to improvement of my life, which has been helped by a steady influx of fruits and vegetables, which I won't break away from just because I'm feeling better. The stress I used to have in my body because of lack of sleep is gone. I feel a little tired right now at 3:37 p.m., but I'm supposed to. I spent a few hours sitting on the couch, thumbing through my mom's word seek puzzle magazines (I love Penny Press and loathe Dell), picking out the puzzles I wanted to do, and did them. I got up a few times, for the bathroom, for some water, and to switch magazines, and only when I was done did I stretch remarkably and went out to get the mail.
I think my body's now used to bedtime at or near 11 p.m., and waking up some time in the 6 a.m. hour. Out of everything that happened to me emotionally from this, I hoped for this the most. And now I got it. And I know that Ventura Harbor Village tomorrow will be a lot more enjoyable because of this. Not that I had the anxiety when we went there the first time, but it's going to mean a lot more to me now. I'm free.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
A Land and Sea Lunch, Movies, and a Job
Ever since I recovered from this anxiety after 5 and 1/2 months, I've been hoping for an absolutely perfect week, full of everything I'd want to do and would be game for.
So far, so good.
My body's getting used to going to bed at or a little bit before 11 p.m., and though I seem to wake up early, sometimes after 6 a.m., I don't mind, because that's enough sleep for me. Monday and today went well with that, though I looked at my clock and found out that it was only 4:41 a.m. Most of the time, I can get back to sleep without a problem, but there are those occasional instances where there's a tiny bit of that former full-blown fear that I won't be able to get back to sleep.
Today was perfect, and it began with a book of interviews with comedy writers called "Funny Business," including Louis Sachar, Beverly Cleary, and Judy Blume. I started it after I finished breakfast, at about 8 a.m., and finished it late in the morning, probably at around 11:40. It felt so good to read extensively and to actually finish a book, unlike all those months ago when I'd literally fill up my library card to the limit with 50 books, and be excited about the options available to me, but I'd never really finish anything.
Along with the reading, I turned on the Real Jazz channel on the XM radio we have in the house. Perfect. I use as bookmarks the paper hold slips that are in my library books, and I always keep a blue pen near me to write down any titles I find within the books that interest me, or, any names of jazz musicians I hear that I want to hear more of. (Screw the dangling preposition tightwad rule. It's my blog.) I have two of these slips so far (one from finishing "Nothing Happens Until It Happens to You" by T.M. Shine), and the third is in Jeff Dunham's autobiography, "All By My Selves," and there's already about four names of jazz musicians on that slip. Only before 3 p.m. did I turn on the TV and the Tivo to begin watching the episodes of Saturday Night Live I had recorded off of VH1. It feels so good to not use the computer that much anymore, and also not to watch as much TV as I did during the day. I'm not going to become one of those proponents of keeping the television off as much as possible, but I could live with it.
So that was today. Tomorrow, if I'm not called into Dad's school to be a substitute campus supervisor, I'm probably going to blast my way through the rest of "All By My Selves" by Jeff Dunham, and then start on "Giving Good Weight" by John McPhee, a collection of his writings for The New Yorker, which include a profile of a farmer's market, and dueling pinball champions. I'm fine with another quiet day, since I'm really anticipating Thursday, a blessed day.
Thursday is Veteran's Day, which means schools are closed, and my sister, who works as a one-on-one aide for a special needs kid, and Dad both have the day off. Friday's a furlough day, another day off, which means neither she or Dad get paid, and neither does anyone else in the entire school district. No idea what's on tap for Friday, but Thursday is going to be incredible. We'll start with a pit stop at the grand opening of Williams-Sonoma at the Valencia Town Center Mall, which my sister has been salivating over for a number of months now. They open at 10 a.m. (I don't mind, since I'm sure I'll be up by 6 and then resting and listening to Morning Edition on NPR), so we'll spend probably half an hour there, and then we'll be off to Ventura, to the Ventura Harbor Village. When I heard we were going to do this, I got excited for two major reasons:
1) Andria's Seafood Restaurant. Best clam chowder in California, based on my limited experience with the clam chowders of seafood restaurants in California. Last time, I ordered it in a bread bowl, and there turned out to be more bread than soup. A large bowl this time. I was going to order something with it, but a shrimp cocktail there is $6.99. I'm satisfied with just my soup. It turns out that the fish they use there comes from local waters. I like that.
2) My favorite spot in all of Ventura Harbor Village, which I can't wait to show Meridith. And it's not even anywhere near the harbor, not any of the boats I see, not any of the pedal boats. It's right in between one of the entrances to the arcade and the restrooms. You stand right there and you look up, and you see a window with a drawn shade, with a little strip of darkness underneath. Now, these places are for lease, but whether they're used solely for offices, or as residences, I'm not sure. But I love standing there, looking at that window, imagining the person who might use that as an office or residence. I prefer residence, because I imagine that person placing their bed right near that window, the foot of the bed right there. This jibes with when I was at my graduation from College of the Canyons in 2005, I think, and while ignoring the long-winded speech by the president of the school, I looked up at all the windows of the building looming over us, and I imagined that there must have been some crazy professor up there, sitting cross-legged amidst piles of papers on desk and floor, searching, searching for hidden meanings in "Moby Dick." I'm fascinated by people like that.
There's also an ice cream place in the village called Coastal Cone Ice Cream & Yogurt, which my mom loves. But no more for me. After I came out of the worst of the anxiety, I vowed to change my diet, and I have. I suspect that's what my nerves were screaming about, and it must have helped, because I don't feel anything exploding in my nervous system now. In the morning, I have Cheerios (for now, Honey Nut, since we ran out of regular Cheerios, which is my favorite) and either a banana or a pear. For lunch, depending on if I'm at work or at home, I have yogurt (reserved for home) or a peanut butter sandwich, carrot chips, and an apple. I also dig into any green stuff we have, which, right now, is bagged broccoli slaw (shredded broccoli, carrots, and red cabbage) and baby spinach. I reserve dinner for the most sodium intake, though not to extremes.
Even though they do have fat-free yogurt at Coastal Cone, I don't think I'm going to partake in it. I asked my sister to put an apple in her pocketbook for me for after lunch. So a land and sea lunch. And the harbor with all the boats. Can't beat that.
I've no idea what we'll be doing on Friday, but I'm thinking of adding an extra day to my weekend plans.
The Saturday before last, I pulled "The Ramen Girl" DVD out of my stack of library materials, but couldn't get past the first few minutes. The writing was pretty bad. Instead, I watched yet again Stephen Sondheim's "Putting It Together." And from that, I decided to start something new, since I wake up early enough at the start of the day anyway.
As mentioned before, I seem to wake up more regularly around 6 a.m. During the weekdays, I'm ok with resting in bed for a while, listening to NPR. But on the weekend, as 7 a.m. passes, I don't want to do the same thing. So after that Saturday, I continued what I think might be a weekly tradition, at least until it's time to begin moving to Nevada.
Last Saturday morning, I had a double feature of "Down with Love" (from Netflix) and "Clerks II" (my own DVD). During the day, Wal-Mart finally received the copy of "Swing Vote" I ordered, and I was very excited about that. So on Sunday morning, I listened to the audio commentary on "Swing Vote" by director Joshua Michael Stern and co-writer Jason Richman.
I'm not sure if I'll always have a double feature on Saturday mornings, but since I watch far less movies now than I used to, I really like this idea of just lounging in bed, watching movies on weekend mornings. Today, I received "Just Wright" from Netflix, and plan to watch that on Saturday morning. On Sunday morning, I'm going to listen to the director's commentary on "Undercover Brother." I've already planned the following Saturday morning: "The Joneses." And on the following Sunday morning: The audio commentary on "An American in Paris."
For me, this is the way to watch movies. I love having more free time to read books. Sometimes I'll use the Instant Viewing function on Netflix, but I haven't done it much lately, though there are a few movies I want to see on there, including "Mojave Moon," starring Danny Aiello.
One of the campus supervisors went to my dad yesterday because they needed a substitute campus supervisor for Monday. That would be me, and I love having a job again. I wish it was more than just this day, but I'll take it.
Plus, I'm also seriously thinking of forgoing the wait for Hanukkah and just buying "Elaine Stritch at Liberty" and "John Waters' This Filthy World" off Amazon Marketplace, to complete my DVD collection. After those two, I can't think of any other DVDs I want. I'll see if my parents can get me either "Jeopardy!" on Nintendo DS or one or two of the books of Neil Simon's plays.
I can't wait for the rest of this week to begin.
So far, so good.
My body's getting used to going to bed at or a little bit before 11 p.m., and though I seem to wake up early, sometimes after 6 a.m., I don't mind, because that's enough sleep for me. Monday and today went well with that, though I looked at my clock and found out that it was only 4:41 a.m. Most of the time, I can get back to sleep without a problem, but there are those occasional instances where there's a tiny bit of that former full-blown fear that I won't be able to get back to sleep.
Today was perfect, and it began with a book of interviews with comedy writers called "Funny Business," including Louis Sachar, Beverly Cleary, and Judy Blume. I started it after I finished breakfast, at about 8 a.m., and finished it late in the morning, probably at around 11:40. It felt so good to read extensively and to actually finish a book, unlike all those months ago when I'd literally fill up my library card to the limit with 50 books, and be excited about the options available to me, but I'd never really finish anything.
Along with the reading, I turned on the Real Jazz channel on the XM radio we have in the house. Perfect. I use as bookmarks the paper hold slips that are in my library books, and I always keep a blue pen near me to write down any titles I find within the books that interest me, or, any names of jazz musicians I hear that I want to hear more of. (Screw the dangling preposition tightwad rule. It's my blog.) I have two of these slips so far (one from finishing "Nothing Happens Until It Happens to You" by T.M. Shine), and the third is in Jeff Dunham's autobiography, "All By My Selves," and there's already about four names of jazz musicians on that slip. Only before 3 p.m. did I turn on the TV and the Tivo to begin watching the episodes of Saturday Night Live I had recorded off of VH1. It feels so good to not use the computer that much anymore, and also not to watch as much TV as I did during the day. I'm not going to become one of those proponents of keeping the television off as much as possible, but I could live with it.
So that was today. Tomorrow, if I'm not called into Dad's school to be a substitute campus supervisor, I'm probably going to blast my way through the rest of "All By My Selves" by Jeff Dunham, and then start on "Giving Good Weight" by John McPhee, a collection of his writings for The New Yorker, which include a profile of a farmer's market, and dueling pinball champions. I'm fine with another quiet day, since I'm really anticipating Thursday, a blessed day.
Thursday is Veteran's Day, which means schools are closed, and my sister, who works as a one-on-one aide for a special needs kid, and Dad both have the day off. Friday's a furlough day, another day off, which means neither she or Dad get paid, and neither does anyone else in the entire school district. No idea what's on tap for Friday, but Thursday is going to be incredible. We'll start with a pit stop at the grand opening of Williams-Sonoma at the Valencia Town Center Mall, which my sister has been salivating over for a number of months now. They open at 10 a.m. (I don't mind, since I'm sure I'll be up by 6 and then resting and listening to Morning Edition on NPR), so we'll spend probably half an hour there, and then we'll be off to Ventura, to the Ventura Harbor Village. When I heard we were going to do this, I got excited for two major reasons:
1) Andria's Seafood Restaurant. Best clam chowder in California, based on my limited experience with the clam chowders of seafood restaurants in California. Last time, I ordered it in a bread bowl, and there turned out to be more bread than soup. A large bowl this time. I was going to order something with it, but a shrimp cocktail there is $6.99. I'm satisfied with just my soup. It turns out that the fish they use there comes from local waters. I like that.
2) My favorite spot in all of Ventura Harbor Village, which I can't wait to show Meridith. And it's not even anywhere near the harbor, not any of the boats I see, not any of the pedal boats. It's right in between one of the entrances to the arcade and the restrooms. You stand right there and you look up, and you see a window with a drawn shade, with a little strip of darkness underneath. Now, these places are for lease, but whether they're used solely for offices, or as residences, I'm not sure. But I love standing there, looking at that window, imagining the person who might use that as an office or residence. I prefer residence, because I imagine that person placing their bed right near that window, the foot of the bed right there. This jibes with when I was at my graduation from College of the Canyons in 2005, I think, and while ignoring the long-winded speech by the president of the school, I looked up at all the windows of the building looming over us, and I imagined that there must have been some crazy professor up there, sitting cross-legged amidst piles of papers on desk and floor, searching, searching for hidden meanings in "Moby Dick." I'm fascinated by people like that.
There's also an ice cream place in the village called Coastal Cone Ice Cream & Yogurt, which my mom loves. But no more for me. After I came out of the worst of the anxiety, I vowed to change my diet, and I have. I suspect that's what my nerves were screaming about, and it must have helped, because I don't feel anything exploding in my nervous system now. In the morning, I have Cheerios (for now, Honey Nut, since we ran out of regular Cheerios, which is my favorite) and either a banana or a pear. For lunch, depending on if I'm at work or at home, I have yogurt (reserved for home) or a peanut butter sandwich, carrot chips, and an apple. I also dig into any green stuff we have, which, right now, is bagged broccoli slaw (shredded broccoli, carrots, and red cabbage) and baby spinach. I reserve dinner for the most sodium intake, though not to extremes.
Even though they do have fat-free yogurt at Coastal Cone, I don't think I'm going to partake in it. I asked my sister to put an apple in her pocketbook for me for after lunch. So a land and sea lunch. And the harbor with all the boats. Can't beat that.
I've no idea what we'll be doing on Friday, but I'm thinking of adding an extra day to my weekend plans.
The Saturday before last, I pulled "The Ramen Girl" DVD out of my stack of library materials, but couldn't get past the first few minutes. The writing was pretty bad. Instead, I watched yet again Stephen Sondheim's "Putting It Together." And from that, I decided to start something new, since I wake up early enough at the start of the day anyway.
As mentioned before, I seem to wake up more regularly around 6 a.m. During the weekdays, I'm ok with resting in bed for a while, listening to NPR. But on the weekend, as 7 a.m. passes, I don't want to do the same thing. So after that Saturday, I continued what I think might be a weekly tradition, at least until it's time to begin moving to Nevada.
Last Saturday morning, I had a double feature of "Down with Love" (from Netflix) and "Clerks II" (my own DVD). During the day, Wal-Mart finally received the copy of "Swing Vote" I ordered, and I was very excited about that. So on Sunday morning, I listened to the audio commentary on "Swing Vote" by director Joshua Michael Stern and co-writer Jason Richman.
I'm not sure if I'll always have a double feature on Saturday mornings, but since I watch far less movies now than I used to, I really like this idea of just lounging in bed, watching movies on weekend mornings. Today, I received "Just Wright" from Netflix, and plan to watch that on Saturday morning. On Sunday morning, I'm going to listen to the director's commentary on "Undercover Brother." I've already planned the following Saturday morning: "The Joneses." And on the following Sunday morning: The audio commentary on "An American in Paris."
For me, this is the way to watch movies. I love having more free time to read books. Sometimes I'll use the Instant Viewing function on Netflix, but I haven't done it much lately, though there are a few movies I want to see on there, including "Mojave Moon," starring Danny Aiello.
One of the campus supervisors went to my dad yesterday because they needed a substitute campus supervisor for Monday. That would be me, and I love having a job again. I wish it was more than just this day, but I'll take it.
Plus, I'm also seriously thinking of forgoing the wait for Hanukkah and just buying "Elaine Stritch at Liberty" and "John Waters' This Filthy World" off Amazon Marketplace, to complete my DVD collection. After those two, I can't think of any other DVDs I want. I'll see if my parents can get me either "Jeopardy!" on Nintendo DS or one or two of the books of Neil Simon's plays.
I can't wait for the rest of this week to begin.
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Dreams Build, But Probably Not to That Crescendo
She wouldn't talk to me.
No, that's not all.
She wouldn't even look at me.
I didn't know what I had done to have unfortunately achieved that tortuous degree of being ignored. I'm sure I rewound through my mind the moments we had spent together and wondered if anything within those moments had caused this.
Then I saw an old crush, Sara Mangan. 9th grade. We got to know each other a bit, and I wanted to date her, but she had a long-distance relationship going and didn't want to give that up. I asked her if she could think of any reason, out of everything she knew about me, why this girl would be so angry (I assume) to completely shut me out.
I finally get a girlfriend after not dating since 7th grade and somehow I screwed it up.
But yet, I didn't.
What you read was part of a dream I had, the second after the night before, in which I was with a girl who seemed very, very formal and mannerly. I was fascinated by her, wondering why she was the way she was, and also how she got to that personality quirk.
Two dreams in a row about girlfriends. The last time this happened was up to February 14, 1998, the day of the Valentine's Day Dance at Silver Trail Middle, which I couldn't go to since I had gotten into trouble for inadvertently giving the girl I was going with the password to something that was not meant to be given out. I don't remember what it was for, I didn't have any ulterior motives; I just gave it because I knew it. Not to a whole host of people, just her.
The day of the dance, I wasn't there, but she was there, moping around because I wasn't there. Irene became my girlfriend on that day, and it lasted for 6 months, until she and her family moved across the state of Florida to Naples, and we broke up amicably because a long-distance relationship seemed like a lot of work.
Up to that day, I had had many dreams about girlfriends and it led to this. There might be a third dream tonight about a girlfriend, maybe a fourth the next night, but I don't think it will lead to girlfriend #2. For one, I haven't made any effort in this valley to find anyone, though I do admire some of what I see in the stores in the area. My gold standard is the woman who retrieved my Site to Store order at Wal-Mart near Copper Hill Drive, who matched Julianne Nicholson in her glances and wore dark eyeshadow that I loved. But it wasn't only the eyshadow, it was the smoky personality she had. She was also probably 20 years older than me, but hey, I have great taste.
I see these dreams as helping me sort out exactly what I want. I've never thought of it beyond being a staunch leg man, helped along by Monica Haynick and her pantyhose in my 8th grade math class. Personality? I've got some idea now. I want a partner-in-crime in life, kind of like Myrna Loy was to William Powell in the first "Thin Man" movie in 1934. I want that kind of rapport, so yes, I require a woman with a sizable brain. But that's all I know so far.
Or who knows? If we end up going to Ventura Harbor Village this Thursday or Friday, my dream girl might be there. Maybe that's what these dreams are hinting at. But even if not, at least I'm finally thinking seriously about it and not thinking it strange of me to be thinking about it at all.
Addendum at 8:05 a.m. on November 9: No dreams about girlfriends last night. The most prominent dream I remember was some group of re-enactors performing on a mountain at dusk while the Santa Ana winds blew terribly, and the sparks some of their special effects produced made me worry that they might set the whole mountain aflame.
I'm not disappointed. I'm just glad to know for sure that I want this.
No, that's not all.
She wouldn't even look at me.
I didn't know what I had done to have unfortunately achieved that tortuous degree of being ignored. I'm sure I rewound through my mind the moments we had spent together and wondered if anything within those moments had caused this.
Then I saw an old crush, Sara Mangan. 9th grade. We got to know each other a bit, and I wanted to date her, but she had a long-distance relationship going and didn't want to give that up. I asked her if she could think of any reason, out of everything she knew about me, why this girl would be so angry (I assume) to completely shut me out.
I finally get a girlfriend after not dating since 7th grade and somehow I screwed it up.
But yet, I didn't.
What you read was part of a dream I had, the second after the night before, in which I was with a girl who seemed very, very formal and mannerly. I was fascinated by her, wondering why she was the way she was, and also how she got to that personality quirk.
Two dreams in a row about girlfriends. The last time this happened was up to February 14, 1998, the day of the Valentine's Day Dance at Silver Trail Middle, which I couldn't go to since I had gotten into trouble for inadvertently giving the girl I was going with the password to something that was not meant to be given out. I don't remember what it was for, I didn't have any ulterior motives; I just gave it because I knew it. Not to a whole host of people, just her.
The day of the dance, I wasn't there, but she was there, moping around because I wasn't there. Irene became my girlfriend on that day, and it lasted for 6 months, until she and her family moved across the state of Florida to Naples, and we broke up amicably because a long-distance relationship seemed like a lot of work.
Up to that day, I had had many dreams about girlfriends and it led to this. There might be a third dream tonight about a girlfriend, maybe a fourth the next night, but I don't think it will lead to girlfriend #2. For one, I haven't made any effort in this valley to find anyone, though I do admire some of what I see in the stores in the area. My gold standard is the woman who retrieved my Site to Store order at Wal-Mart near Copper Hill Drive, who matched Julianne Nicholson in her glances and wore dark eyeshadow that I loved. But it wasn't only the eyshadow, it was the smoky personality she had. She was also probably 20 years older than me, but hey, I have great taste.
I see these dreams as helping me sort out exactly what I want. I've never thought of it beyond being a staunch leg man, helped along by Monica Haynick and her pantyhose in my 8th grade math class. Personality? I've got some idea now. I want a partner-in-crime in life, kind of like Myrna Loy was to William Powell in the first "Thin Man" movie in 1934. I want that kind of rapport, so yes, I require a woman with a sizable brain. But that's all I know so far.
Or who knows? If we end up going to Ventura Harbor Village this Thursday or Friday, my dream girl might be there. Maybe that's what these dreams are hinting at. But even if not, at least I'm finally thinking seriously about it and not thinking it strange of me to be thinking about it at all.
Addendum at 8:05 a.m. on November 9: No dreams about girlfriends last night. The most prominent dream I remember was some group of re-enactors performing on a mountain at dusk while the Santa Ana winds blew terribly, and the sparks some of their special effects produced made me worry that they might set the whole mountain aflame.
I'm not disappointed. I'm just glad to know for sure that I want this.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Many Changes
New agenda for my life ahead:
1) Figure out what I want to do in life. Really figure it out. Even though I love aviation, I decided not to pursue a bachelor's degree in professional aeronautics online from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University. I don't want to be locked into homework again, plus, with the well over $6,500 tutition (with room and board, it would have been a whole lot more), I could probably find, and apply for, the scholarships necessary, but it's still a hefty fee. Plus, after filling out the FAFSA application, consulting with the university's financial aid office, and looking over the course load, I don't think I'm so much in love with the idea anymore. I'll still see if there's some kind of airport-based career available (initially, I really wanted to work on the ramp at McCarran International, with the planes parked at the gate, but I'm not sure yet what that requires), but I think I have more opportunities I can pursue based on my skills, a lot more than I thought before. For example, tomorrow I'm going back to my dad's middle school as a substitute campus supervisor, and though I wish I could be paid the same hourly salary as the person I'm subbing for, I like it. The campus gets deathly quiet after the kids have filed into the classrooms before each period, and I'm inspired by my surroundings, which I know will obviously change after my family and I have moved to Boulder City, Nevada. But I become really inspired when I'm just walking around the campus, doing my three laps before brunch, after lunch, and before it's time for my shift to end. I even came up with an idea for a play that involves a worker's plight in trying to find some space for himself, away from a windy day, and not finding any, including where would be most obvious, such as the usually empty teacher's lounge. Something like that. Tomorrow I'm bringing my mp3 player since one of the other campus supervisors sits in the golf cart, either listening to a radio, or some kind of player with video capabilities. A lot of right-wing radio emanates from the cart when he's in it (I'm not judging, just observing), so I figure I should have some music with me. I even downloaded off of Amazon "Something About You" by Level 42 and "Karma Chameleon" by Culture Club, two songs I've wanted in my mp3 player for a long time. Now was the right time to download them.
2) My parents have not had an entirely stable marriage over 28 years. I've witnessed more fights, possibly thousands, than I ever thought would be possible, even over the most trivial things. I was with my mom the one time she truly threatened to walk out on my dad and had suitcases for herself, me, and my sister. I don't know how that fight managed to end with us having dinner as if nothing had happened, but I swear that one had to have ended because of some divine intervention. I used to reject the idea of dating and relationships, probably partly because of my parents, but also because there have always been tons of books I've wanted to read and tons of movies I've wanted to see. Plus, being a writer, a lot I've considered writing, but I'll get to that in a minute. After the anxiety I had, and after changing my diet and my sleeping habits (still a bit dicey at times, since I wake up in the middle of the night at least twice, but make sure that I don't panic about it and try to get back to sleep, which is successful), I've decided that I want to date. Sure I'm broke and I don't drive because I'm not on my dad's auto insurance (I have my license, but I don't have my own car, because I can't afford the car or the insurance), and sure the only job I have right now is as a campus supervisor, but I'm curious. I want to meet someone. I've got my mom, my dad, and my dear, wonderfully extroverted sister, but I want to see who might be out there for me. I used to overthink it, such as the responsibility involved in any relationship, the this and the that of the whole thing, such as phone calls, and the time you need to take each day to make it work, but I'm done overthinking things. I will still think about this as necessary, but I want to see if I could be really happy with someone. So far, my record remains at one girlfriend, Irene Diaz, in 7th grade. We broke up amicably when she moved across the state of Florida to Naples, and that's been it. I think it's time to explore. However, it'd probably be best to wait until after we move to Nevada since there's no point here in Santa Clarita. I've seen possibilities here. They're not my kind of possibilities.
3) I'm going to write again. Moreso, I'm going to write what I want. I'm not blaming all the movie reviews I wrote for preventing me from writing what I wanted, because they got me into the habit of writing regularly. But I remember the hours and hours I spent watching movies for Screen It, just to get the exact scene down when it involved violence, smoking, alcohol and drug use, sex, etc. The money was good, but that's all I did. Hours watching one movie, and even more hours spent writing my reviews. I truly believe they're the best reviews on the site, but it's not all I want to do with my days. When I began recovering from this bad bout of anxiety (it lasted 5 and 1/2 months, so I lost an entire summer, which, outside of the heat, I regret a little bit, but you sometimes have to go through hell to find out what's truly meaningful to you), I read the bits of plays I wrote and then abandoned, and some of them read pretty well. There are some concepts I know could work with more massaging, and some that most likely need complete do-overs, but I want to do this. I read part of a play of mine that takes place at Grad Nite at Disneyland, and I actually laughed at some of the lines I had written. This is where I want to be. I want to spend time with what are truly my words. The reviews I wrote, the hundreds of reviews, my words were there, but they were geared toward promoting someone else's work, good or bad. All that I've found in various folders on this computer, it's all mine. The most important thing I learned through this ordeal was that I need to do more for myself. I need to take care of me more than I had before, more than when I had spent more time emptying the ice cream tubs from the freezer and likely sending my nervous system into major shock, which I'll bet led to this. But here I am, new diet, new outlook, new everything. I want this. And with my first book coming out in January, it's time to do this already.
But first, Raising Hope. Two episodes tonight and it's already 9:31 p.m. (I Tivo'd them.) I have to be in bed by 11, because I'm expected up at 6 a.m., so it's time to start.
1) Figure out what I want to do in life. Really figure it out. Even though I love aviation, I decided not to pursue a bachelor's degree in professional aeronautics online from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University. I don't want to be locked into homework again, plus, with the well over $6,500 tutition (with room and board, it would have been a whole lot more), I could probably find, and apply for, the scholarships necessary, but it's still a hefty fee. Plus, after filling out the FAFSA application, consulting with the university's financial aid office, and looking over the course load, I don't think I'm so much in love with the idea anymore. I'll still see if there's some kind of airport-based career available (initially, I really wanted to work on the ramp at McCarran International, with the planes parked at the gate, but I'm not sure yet what that requires), but I think I have more opportunities I can pursue based on my skills, a lot more than I thought before. For example, tomorrow I'm going back to my dad's middle school as a substitute campus supervisor, and though I wish I could be paid the same hourly salary as the person I'm subbing for, I like it. The campus gets deathly quiet after the kids have filed into the classrooms before each period, and I'm inspired by my surroundings, which I know will obviously change after my family and I have moved to Boulder City, Nevada. But I become really inspired when I'm just walking around the campus, doing my three laps before brunch, after lunch, and before it's time for my shift to end. I even came up with an idea for a play that involves a worker's plight in trying to find some space for himself, away from a windy day, and not finding any, including where would be most obvious, such as the usually empty teacher's lounge. Something like that. Tomorrow I'm bringing my mp3 player since one of the other campus supervisors sits in the golf cart, either listening to a radio, or some kind of player with video capabilities. A lot of right-wing radio emanates from the cart when he's in it (I'm not judging, just observing), so I figure I should have some music with me. I even downloaded off of Amazon "Something About You" by Level 42 and "Karma Chameleon" by Culture Club, two songs I've wanted in my mp3 player for a long time. Now was the right time to download them.
2) My parents have not had an entirely stable marriage over 28 years. I've witnessed more fights, possibly thousands, than I ever thought would be possible, even over the most trivial things. I was with my mom the one time she truly threatened to walk out on my dad and had suitcases for herself, me, and my sister. I don't know how that fight managed to end with us having dinner as if nothing had happened, but I swear that one had to have ended because of some divine intervention. I used to reject the idea of dating and relationships, probably partly because of my parents, but also because there have always been tons of books I've wanted to read and tons of movies I've wanted to see. Plus, being a writer, a lot I've considered writing, but I'll get to that in a minute. After the anxiety I had, and after changing my diet and my sleeping habits (still a bit dicey at times, since I wake up in the middle of the night at least twice, but make sure that I don't panic about it and try to get back to sleep, which is successful), I've decided that I want to date. Sure I'm broke and I don't drive because I'm not on my dad's auto insurance (I have my license, but I don't have my own car, because I can't afford the car or the insurance), and sure the only job I have right now is as a campus supervisor, but I'm curious. I want to meet someone. I've got my mom, my dad, and my dear, wonderfully extroverted sister, but I want to see who might be out there for me. I used to overthink it, such as the responsibility involved in any relationship, the this and the that of the whole thing, such as phone calls, and the time you need to take each day to make it work, but I'm done overthinking things. I will still think about this as necessary, but I want to see if I could be really happy with someone. So far, my record remains at one girlfriend, Irene Diaz, in 7th grade. We broke up amicably when she moved across the state of Florida to Naples, and that's been it. I think it's time to explore. However, it'd probably be best to wait until after we move to Nevada since there's no point here in Santa Clarita. I've seen possibilities here. They're not my kind of possibilities.
3) I'm going to write again. Moreso, I'm going to write what I want. I'm not blaming all the movie reviews I wrote for preventing me from writing what I wanted, because they got me into the habit of writing regularly. But I remember the hours and hours I spent watching movies for Screen It, just to get the exact scene down when it involved violence, smoking, alcohol and drug use, sex, etc. The money was good, but that's all I did. Hours watching one movie, and even more hours spent writing my reviews. I truly believe they're the best reviews on the site, but it's not all I want to do with my days. When I began recovering from this bad bout of anxiety (it lasted 5 and 1/2 months, so I lost an entire summer, which, outside of the heat, I regret a little bit, but you sometimes have to go through hell to find out what's truly meaningful to you), I read the bits of plays I wrote and then abandoned, and some of them read pretty well. There are some concepts I know could work with more massaging, and some that most likely need complete do-overs, but I want to do this. I read part of a play of mine that takes place at Grad Nite at Disneyland, and I actually laughed at some of the lines I had written. This is where I want to be. I want to spend time with what are truly my words. The reviews I wrote, the hundreds of reviews, my words were there, but they were geared toward promoting someone else's work, good or bad. All that I've found in various folders on this computer, it's all mine. The most important thing I learned through this ordeal was that I need to do more for myself. I need to take care of me more than I had before, more than when I had spent more time emptying the ice cream tubs from the freezer and likely sending my nervous system into major shock, which I'll bet led to this. But here I am, new diet, new outlook, new everything. I want this. And with my first book coming out in January, it's time to do this already.
But first, Raising Hope. Two episodes tonight and it's already 9:31 p.m. (I Tivo'd them.) I have to be in bed by 11, because I'm expected up at 6 a.m., so it's time to start.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Still Here
It's definitely been a long time since May, but I'm still here. Life reorganization, figuring out who I am and all that after having co-written a book and deciding that film criticism probably won't sustain me for the rest of my life. It's a lot to take in when that's pretty much all I've done since I was a teenager, but I'm working on improving myself and figuring out where to go next.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Heading for Las Vegas
Tomorrow morning, early, most likely between 7:30 and 8, we're leaving for Las Vegas. We're stopping to drop the dogs off in Canyon Country at a kennel that boards them, and then to McDonald's, and then out, stopping in Baker and the gas station/rest stop food court there before we charge into the real stretch of the Mojave Desert. We'll probably arrive in Vegas by a little before or after 3, because we're not going to eat at Richie's Real American Diner in Victorville, being that it sunk fast when we were there in March. Not as good as in 2008. The plummeting economy clearly hit it.
The purpose of this trip is a job interview my dad has on Thursday morning at a private school. It's the call we all were waiting for, the one that can get us to where we truly want to live. We're going to keep an open mind toward all the areas we visit, but the consensus seems to be Boulder City, near Hoover Dam. It feels comfortable, it's a genuine small town, and we determined that that's what we've been missing all this time, why Mom moved with Dad 12 times, and my sister and I about two or three times less.
On this evening before, my sister and I still have to pack, I have to put extra food into the birds' cages, and decide finally on what books I want to bring with me. I thought it would be two, knowing last time that I didn't even touch most of the books I brought, but being a voracious, obsessive reader, I'm not going to follow that. So far, it's five books, two issues of The New Yorker, and the "Fiction Issue" of the Atlantic from late last year. There is a difference now, in that the books are lighter, therefore my tote bag is lighter, and it'll be easier to lug it from the car to the hotel room (America's Best Value Inn again, off the Strip, adjacent to Hooters Casino Hotel, and surrounded on both sides by a Motel 6), and back to the car on Friday morning. The big question in my mind right now is whether to bring along Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt, too. I'm also thinking about whether to bring Saturday Night by Susan Orlean, so I can finish it, but I'm not sure. It might make good travel reading, being that Orlean traveled to different locales in the United States to study different Saturday nights. Maybe.
I'm also thinking about souls I've met in the past who I know I won't see again. It was 2008 when we saw Mamma Mia! at Mandalay Bay, and on the way to Vegas, we stopped in Baker at the same gas station/rest stop that's one of our reliable beacons. This was when construction had been completed on the gas station, and so the property was wider, with a lot more to look at, more snacks, drinks, and generally useless items you wouldn't buy in your normal daily life. That's the fun of it.
I remember this huge truck driver who was hanging around, talking to someone at the Pizza Hut counter for a few minutes. He had a bulk around him that seemed like it would spill over his seat in his truck. I liked him, though. He had resolve. He also had this huge 72 oz. travel mug, and he walked over to the soda dispenser, and drained whatever was his choice. I wasn't looking closely, but I was impressed by him. He seemed to be truly of the road. This was his home. He stopped here to replenish himself, and any number of motels on the way were what he found comfort in, what was always reliable to him. I have no desire to travel that extensively, but I enjoy watching people like that, who truly know that they belong here and they have no second thoughts about it. It would be something if I saw him again tomorrow in Baker, but I doubt it. It's going to be Wednesday afternoon by the time we get there, and I'm sure he'll be out on the road, guiding his rig, thinking, listening to the radio, the CB too, with another travel mug wedged in with him. Tomorrow doesn't feel like the day I'd see him. Thursday maybe. Hey, maybe Friday. We'll be on our way home then. But even if not, the fascinating personalities encountered while traveling are endless.
The purpose of this trip is a job interview my dad has on Thursday morning at a private school. It's the call we all were waiting for, the one that can get us to where we truly want to live. We're going to keep an open mind toward all the areas we visit, but the consensus seems to be Boulder City, near Hoover Dam. It feels comfortable, it's a genuine small town, and we determined that that's what we've been missing all this time, why Mom moved with Dad 12 times, and my sister and I about two or three times less.
On this evening before, my sister and I still have to pack, I have to put extra food into the birds' cages, and decide finally on what books I want to bring with me. I thought it would be two, knowing last time that I didn't even touch most of the books I brought, but being a voracious, obsessive reader, I'm not going to follow that. So far, it's five books, two issues of The New Yorker, and the "Fiction Issue" of the Atlantic from late last year. There is a difference now, in that the books are lighter, therefore my tote bag is lighter, and it'll be easier to lug it from the car to the hotel room (America's Best Value Inn again, off the Strip, adjacent to Hooters Casino Hotel, and surrounded on both sides by a Motel 6), and back to the car on Friday morning. The big question in my mind right now is whether to bring along Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt, too. I'm also thinking about whether to bring Saturday Night by Susan Orlean, so I can finish it, but I'm not sure. It might make good travel reading, being that Orlean traveled to different locales in the United States to study different Saturday nights. Maybe.
I'm also thinking about souls I've met in the past who I know I won't see again. It was 2008 when we saw Mamma Mia! at Mandalay Bay, and on the way to Vegas, we stopped in Baker at the same gas station/rest stop that's one of our reliable beacons. This was when construction had been completed on the gas station, and so the property was wider, with a lot more to look at, more snacks, drinks, and generally useless items you wouldn't buy in your normal daily life. That's the fun of it.
I remember this huge truck driver who was hanging around, talking to someone at the Pizza Hut counter for a few minutes. He had a bulk around him that seemed like it would spill over his seat in his truck. I liked him, though. He had resolve. He also had this huge 72 oz. travel mug, and he walked over to the soda dispenser, and drained whatever was his choice. I wasn't looking closely, but I was impressed by him. He seemed to be truly of the road. This was his home. He stopped here to replenish himself, and any number of motels on the way were what he found comfort in, what was always reliable to him. I have no desire to travel that extensively, but I enjoy watching people like that, who truly know that they belong here and they have no second thoughts about it. It would be something if I saw him again tomorrow in Baker, but I doubt it. It's going to be Wednesday afternoon by the time we get there, and I'm sure he'll be out on the road, guiding his rig, thinking, listening to the radio, the CB too, with another travel mug wedged in with him. Tomorrow doesn't feel like the day I'd see him. Thursday maybe. Hey, maybe Friday. We'll be on our way home then. But even if not, the fascinating personalities encountered while traveling are endless.
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