So the ride is officially over. It was fun while it lasted I guess. Kind of an interesting metaphor really, a reationship like a rollercoaster. Hmmm, that sounds bad. It wasn't bad, just heart-crushingly up and down in a major way. But it's over now, and I am stepping out of the seat and walking away from that ride for a while.

Perhaps I am phrasing that wrong, I don't know. I mean, we'll still be friends, even though it will tear me apart inside at first. I think this is far worse than the last time.


It was bound to happen though. It wouldn't be my life after all if something were to actually work out for once.

Nothing ever does ya see, and I know how incredibly selfish that statement is, and trust me it hurts me to say, but it is how I feel.

It makes me wonder though, because everything made sense between us, everything worked almost perfectly....it just happened to not be the right time I guess.

We met at the wrong junction baby and I know that there is nothing wrong with you wanting to focus on yourself and what makes you happy, and with not wanting to worry about how someone else is going to feel. I understand that, and I accept that, but I am not going to sit here and let you tell me to not be sad, because I am.

I am going to be sad for a long time.

What's worse is that I think this will make me feel how you do now. That it will make me feel like I don't want anybody in my life because I don't want to have to care. And that scares me because I love caring.

Just like I loved laying there with you, a light breeze blowing through the window, and you holding me close to keep me warm.


I don't know what else to say right now. I am tired and am still at work cuz he txt me to say "SORRY" right when I finished.

Course there is that fear that if I keep writing I will read this tommorow and want to puke from all the mellow drama that I just "ralphed" all over the wup.


Get away from me, get away from, this isn't going to be easy, but I don't need you believe me.

Yeah you got a piece of me, but it's just a little piece, I don't need anyone these days to feel like I'm fading away.

Counting Crows


Update: So it seems like things were not what they seemed at all...the whole time we were together...how different it all would have been if you had told me about dre from the beginning. It all makes sense now...perfect sense, and it is horrible for me to have to think about all that you said to me and wonder if any of it was real or if it was all hollow and empty.....

I fucking hate you for this and it will stay with me forever. I wish I had never heard your voice.


The subject is: Human Understanding

If only she could've understood me, there would've been a chance. Seven months without her has been bliss.

Doing things by myself, for myself.

Paris was lovely. I had fallen in love with Paris, and the girl who lives there. There is HOPE!

My brooding demeanor drained the life out of me today. The fault of a dream I had last night. It could have been worse - it could have been real. A hotel and her with a guy much like me. I need not say more. It was fancy and they fancied each other. Too bad I was around. It became nightmarish.

But of course, these things in my head tell me other things. Hidden messages for me to decipher. My decoder ring is broken.

I wished so hard that it could've been the other dream - of the Champs d'Elysees.

But then again, the latter dream is in my heart, the former was in my head.

I love you, Virginia!

I allways decide to upvote or downvote daylogs based on their first line.

So this last week I´ve been trying out a new money making scheme: namely to see my Grateful Dead bootlegs on German ebay. The experiment has been a shocking success. Yesterday I sold 4 CDs for 112€ to one bidder.

Wow.

In other news I am about to buy medical insurance here... I need to get some in order to get my visa to live here in Deuteschland legally. This is a must. I´m still freelancing for the Deutsche Telekom somewhat illegally considering I entered the country as a tourist. But they don´t seem to mind so either do I.

Went to see American Beauty last night and tonight I have tickets to the midnight show of Attack of the Clones! This weekend I am going to the Rock Am Ring rock festival near Koblenz to see:

Lenny Kravitz
Santana
Gomez
Neil Young
Wilco
Natalie Merchant
Counting Crows

What else? I´m just blown away by this ebay thing!

One of my co-workers brought me a pot seed chocolate bar today and 9 of my 10 Maui Waui and Afgani seeds have sprouted and are now in pots waiting to germinate.

We went to Venlo, Holland over the weekend to get some seeds and smoke for the concert and beyond. allmost 8 grams was only 30€. I find pot so incredibly cheap when it´s legal. Back in Oregon that same stash would have cost me $90.

Sitting here with a sprained ankle...

I read this in some random write-up:

"By sheer luck, we have been afforded some of the greatest opportunities in history. By being born in America, we possess more liberties and rights than any other population since time began"

You USAians really need some help, you need to get out of your tiny boxes and roam the land a bit, your own land and your neighbors lands and then maybe get a flight ticket and see some other lands.

You live in the most influential country on this planet at this time, yet you don’t have a FUCK of a clue what is going on around you.

More liberties? You live in a state that is almost fascist compared to some European nations.

More rights? The right to remain silent? Or maybe the right to be randomly stopped by police, searched on the spot and taken into custody with no explanation.

Hell you abolished slavery and had proper equal rights after the rest of the world (modern world atleast) had already moved on.

You live in a country were you can’t smoke marijuana, You can’t drink alcohol until you are 21, You can’t create a monopoly, You can’t even buy cigarettes or certain types of knives if you are underage! You can’t kill yourself if you are terminally ill. Most places you can’t gamble or get paid for sex….

You use a 2 party electoral system while most of the rest of the pseudo-democratic world (Including France) are parliamentary democratic republics!

The USA is not a democracy

But this isn’t about the USA, it’s about USAians, no not Americans… Not Canadians or Mexicans or Central Americans or South Americans… this is about a group of people who are USAmericans (Excluding New Yorkers who are different)

USAians who live their lives in their little closed areas knowing nothing much about the world outside their borders aside from what the media throws at them.

The United States is a great country, it has spread its wonderful democratic views all over the world! Countries like Panama, Guatemala, Afghanistan, Iran, The Philippines, Colombia, Peru, Korea and Vietnam will never be the same. (Can you count the ones I forgot?)

Now, the US Government did what was right for them. The thing that is so damn insane is how the US people think they were doing a wonderful service

YES THIS IS A BLOODY RANT!


A couple days ago… I was watching two cats stalk an injured bird, it was amazing, just like watching the National Geographic channel. I watched until the bird was out of sight. The whole time the cats were moving like the perfect hunting machines God or Evolution created them to be (I hate cats, I’m allergic)

Yesterday I saw that bird again. It’s amazing, a bird that can’t fly was being stalked by 2 predators and either got away or they gave up for some reason.

Point being, there is always hope (How cliché) or Point being, cats look fucking cool when they are hunting but I guess looking cool isn’t always enough

Or, no point at all.

I’ve sprained my ankle, I can’t walk, I order in food and I can’t even go get good DVDs, I was supposed to go on a trip tomorrow I doubt I’ll be going.

Life goes on.

Today I Packed Up My Girlfriend and Sent Her Home for the Summer. This is occurs every year at this time as college winds down for the year. Its weird being a college graduate, in the fact that your year is no longer focused around classes. Spring Break doesn't mean much to me, just the two weeks of vacation time that I get each year. I no longer think in regards to Christams Break or anything like that.

So, I packed him up and shipped her home today. Twenty-four hours after her last exam and home she went. It changes everything, now that she's on summer break.... Time together is now limited, time talking is now limited, over all our whole lifestyle has changed. It always takes a couple of days to get into this new routine, not a routine I enjoy, but only one more year left doing this as she graduates.

Life goes on....

I found Chango (a blue-purple Beta) belly up this morning at 11:00 am.

He was acting oddly last night around 4 am, racing wildly around the bowl, not wanting to eat, and when I stuck my (clean) finger in the bowl, he nudged it instead of backing away. I went to bed amused but not worried-he was always a fiesty fishy.

And now he's snuffed it. I wrapped him in a paper towel like a little chango burrito and buried him outside the window in a shallow grave dug with a table spoon. I had planned on bringing him out to Colorado on my impending roadtrip, in a tall glass stuck in the cupholder. Chango was good company-he always listened and never interupted.

R.I.P. King Chango 11/01-5/15/02
A Good Fish He Was

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
My body is there, but I do not sleep.
(it's hard to do so, when buried one inch deep)

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
my good days have all gone by
(he was a fish, all days were good, right?)

I now dream of a watery other side-
My body is there, but my spirits alive.
(poor lil Chango, he missed a hell of a ride)


instead of flowers, please go to the nearest Petco and rescue as many betas from their corporate hell as possible in Changos memory. Thank you.

I'm going out of my fucking skull here. So much so that I decided that I needed to come back to E2 just so I could write again. A few people may remember where that ended up. Still it's a good place to let off steam.

So, I got my own office today. A bit of a surprise to everyone really, I didn't think I needed the office as much as one of my co-workers, and was saying that she should get it all along, and then things just changed. A BIG job had been sitting on the back-burner for a very long time because of a lot of little things that had to be done days before they were even handed to me. Thing is though, the contact for the big job didn't know this until today, and wasn't very pleased to find it out. Suffice to say that my boss, when faced with an unhappy client, is willing to make some changes even if those changes make things run in a very unpleasant way.

The nastiest part of this story was that I knew this was coming for a very long time, I just didn't think it would work out this strangely. I've now got an office, and I'm devoted to a single project until it's done (of course the due date is ridiculously close, but that's far less stressful than what I was dealing with). Not that this is all good. The co-worker I spoke of was kind of treating me like a giant traitor this morning. I think that's calmed down a bit, but I know she isn't pleased. I want to tell her exactly what happened, because I respect her quite a bit, but I don't think now is the right time to do that.

Anyway, yeah. Stuff. I guess I really haven't been around here for a while. I got demoted to level 2, and that's kind of crummy. I guess there's just a lot of changes going on. I might try to node more things but things have changed quite a bit. I don't know if I can get into the right groove.

So, little Carl's trial was yesterday afternoon. More of a formality than anything else, or it was supposed to be, so that DCFS would have full rights to turn him over to us for foster parenting.

I wasn't there, but my wife was. So this is technically all hearsay, but it still makes the mind reel.

From what we've been told, Carl was born two months premature with marijuana in his system. The two events aren't necessarily causal, from what I've read so far--although marijuana is linked to reduced growth in the baby if smoked regularly during pregnancy.

No, Carl's problems were entirely related to being born preemie at all, namely respiratory problems and a heart valve problem that required surgery and is now fixed. But he's on a portable monitor to watch his breathing and heart, and make sure neither stops working. (My wife and I got a review of infant CPR before we were allowed to take him, but we still need to be certified.) He was also having trouble with his salt/water balance, so he's been put on two prescriptions for that.

According to testimony at his trial, Carl was taken because he wasn't being cared for regarding any of these things. An investigator said he was seen at the apartment on the floor, bottle propped up in his mouth, apnea monitor being completely ignored, cockroaches running around the place. Nic found out later on in the day that his prescriptions from the hospital were never picked up last month at all.

Now, there's no good excuse for this because the mom is on welfare, and the reason she's on welfare is because she's about 24 years old herself and unmarried, plus she has two more kids. They are 1 and 6 years old; you do the math on when they were conceived. They're all by different fathers. Carl is the only one with health problems (big ones, anyways, the kind hospitals would know about), so the older kids didn't suffer from their mother's negligence the way Carl did.

Once I made the connection between welfare income, marijuana use, and criminal neglect, I was reeling. My wife said his mother was basically accepting of the situation when she had to hand Carl back over to us, but started crying when she learned the other two kids were being taken as well. (Apparently, the government reps had some disagreement about whether this was necessary, since the older kids were still physically healthy.)

But what could she have been thinking? How can someone get pregnant three times, get financial aid from the state to raise them and care for herself, and just ignore common sense? She put three kids in danger, probably for years, so she could get more dope and shut it all out.

I have no idea why she didn't try to find family or friends to help her, and I really don't care. One unwanted baby to a teenage mom is a tragedy; three is more like stupidity. ("Free state-sponsored abortions?" the radical liberal who lives in my forebrain offers up. Please. She couldn't even be bothered to pick up the free state-sponsored prescriptions or free state-sponsored condoms.)

I hope she uses this time to get her act together, but somehow I doubt she will. Maybe she will be able to get her older two kids back, but probably not Carl, at least not as long as he needs medicine and monitors.

There's a long list of people in this world I want to smack upside the head and demand, "What were you thinking?" Not this one. I can't even imagine what the answer could be. You can't just pretend for six years that the problem will go away if you ignore it. Her sense of responsibility should have kicked in a long time ago, but she wasn't interested.

Thank God Carl's too young to know what he's missing. The other two will be missing their mom once they're moved, guaranteed. It's a bizarre quirk of the human species: kids will always bond to their parents no matter how much they may hate what they've done to them. But Carl has probably gotten more attention from our family in the past three days than his mother gave him in three months. For his sake, I hope he stays with us.

I want to keep the name "Carl" if and when we adopt him. He looks like a Carl to me. My wife says it'll probably grow on her.

Today was my twins, Tolkien and Indigo, three month check up. Everybodys doing quite well and gaining weight nicely.

Tolkien (the second one born and the one who was having some trouble at first) is now 22 1/2 inches long and weighs a whopping 11 pounds, 4 ounces. He's gained about three pounds in one month. The doctor pinched his fat little cheek and told him that he was doing great. He's now getting his first tooth. He's also started rolling from his back to his side and makes adorable little cooing sounds. His favorite things are the ceiling fan (on OR off), his hands, the Buzz LightYear that hangs from the ceiling vent in our bedroom, his daddy's face and pooping the second I've put a clean diaper on him.

Indigo, my sweet little Michelin Man, is now almost 24 inches long and weighs in at 13 pounds 4 ounces. He's also gained three pounds in a month. He's average length statistically and just over average weight. The doctor pinched his fat little cheek and told him that he was looking great also. He hasn't started getting any teeth yet. But, he has mastered holding his head up. He, too, coos all the time. His favorite things are throwing his head backward to see what's behind him (and when I position him to face the direction he was throwing his head toward, he throws his head back the other way), the ceiling fan (on OR off), the Buzz LightYear hanging from the ceiling - particularly at sunrise, laying on his belly and lifting his head, and his daddy's face.

And as for me, I am now 5 foot, 5 1/2 inches long and weigh in at a staggering 162 pounds. And, not to be beat by my babies, I've gained FIVE pounds in the last month. The doctor slapped the doughnut out of my hand and told me to stay away from the carbohydrates and sugars. So, I decided to start using the 7 workout videos that we have. When I got home I taped them to my legs and walked from the couch to the fridge and back again each time my favorite talk shows went to commercial. It doesn't appear to be helping yet, but I'm optimistic.

I'm so frustrated and upset that I've started crying.

This is not good because I'm at work right now and I am in an exposed area of the front office, so practically anyone can see me if they wander by, and there's just no way most of them could wrap their minds around why I'm so upset, and for a couple of them, I wouldn't even want to try.

Obviously, sometime during one of my non-E2 periods, there must have been some huge debate and/or brouhaha regarding the whole concept of furries. I will have to assume that yossarian, on the other hand, was present and has had more than enough of the whole thing.

There are a lot of people out there who hear the word "furry" and get a very strange mental image of what someone who calls themselves a furry is and does. This isn't helped by the media, who, for mostly sensationalist reasons, prefer to focus their attention on the more extreme of the group. This is the same thing that happens when a report of a gay pride parade keeps their cameras pointed at the flamboyant transvestites making all the noise, but who usually make up less than 5% of the whole.

People who can't look beyond the most obvious but non-representative members of any community really, really, really piss me off. And there was one of those in the Chatterbox today.

The subject of furries came up. This noder reacted in the usual knee-jerk way of closed-minded individuals by declaiming that "furres are fucked up in the head." When I asked why this person thought that, the response was "you're not supposed to find animals attractive." I'm assuming that this is supposed to be in some sort of sexual context, as any person, furry or not, likely has found at least one animal attractive to look at. Unfortunately, by this time yossarian had made it clear that furry debating was not to be done today.

My return to the noder was "wow... I keep forgetting that even E2 has really small-minded people sometimes, too." I was the first to be eaten. Then followed, in quick succession, three others.

My last borging lasted an hour, with no warning. The very thought that I would be stuck, incommunicado, for an hour crushed me. I don't know why, I'm usually more stoic about these things, but this time it just wiped me out.

It's not like I don't have other avenues for chatting. ICQ is usually running. And it's not like I didn't have something to keep me occupied, as I was in the middle of noding something for the Content Rescue Team. But that's all scrapped now.

So now I've stopped crying, vented my frustration, and can't manage to get up the wherewithal to bother with anything. I can't even figure out how the hell I'm supposed to wrap this up, and I'm depressed, too, so I don't really give a fuck, either.

My sense of balance will not let me hit the Submit button until I mention that after a mere five minutes or so, yossarian released us all from the belly of the borg.

On the train home from work today I picked up a copy of 'Ariel', the BBC's in-house magazine. John Nathan-Turner died last week, apparently. His was the name that appeared at very end of 'Doctor Who' when I was a child, and I have a vivid memory of his production credit hovering on the screen at the end of the programme. I'm not a great fan of the show and I know nothing of Nathan-Turner except that he is dead.

I don't know how many names I have seen scrolling by in the credits of television shows and films, but for most of them I can't place a face or a person. Who is Jim Finnerty, Key Grip on 'Platoon'? I have no idea, and as long as I don't know him, he will live forever, at least in my mind. Nathan-Turned died last week, but to me he didn't die until today.

I don't know what it's like to grow old - I'm only 26 - but I suspect that it will involve most of the people I grew up with, on television and in books, dying off. The Apollo astronauts, George Martin, Frank Oz, Rolf Harris, I'll wake up one morning to find a short obituary of them on Teletext. And then I won't be able to remember the past without remembering also that it's gone forever, and that the edge of the world is slowly creeping towards me.

I'm not a people person. I like machines and books, designs and ideas. They don't let you down, or grow infirm, they don't betray your trust, and they don't leave. A car might break down now and again, but only through poor maintenance or random misfortune; never maliciously or through spite or hatred.

The people I mention above, they're all ideas, at least as far as I am concerned. I didn't know Frankie Howerd or George Harrison as people, I knew them as faces and voices, I had an impression of a person. I had an idea of what they were like, and although the people are gone the idea remains, in my head, where it will remain until I too am gone and all my ideas are consigned to the eternity of post-mortal annihilation.

The following is not my story. But it's a true one that just might make you laugh as hard as I did! The man involved is a white guy named Gary. I must add that he's a flamboyant homosexual I mean, seriously, the man should carry a fire extinguisher. (He refers to himself as "Mother", to clear up any misunderstanding. And a "Red Snapper" is a drink.) I found this story so entertaining that I have kept it stored in my computer for almost two years. It simply needed to be set free into the world...

Kay, so Mother was at Taco Bell in the drive-thru, and I had had three Red Snappers, very strong that day, on an empty stomach.

I was flying high.

Now, I know you know that Taco Bell isn't known for hiring the snappiest peas in the pod, but I prefer if they are stupid rather than bitchy.

Bitchy is MY job.

Girl, I mean to tell you, I waited for a good half hour behind three people. I could see the hands coming out of cars and shaking fists... slightly modified, for sure. I heard one guy say something about how unbelievable this was.

I knew he must have been talking about his wait. I generally don't jump to conclusions.

For all I could suppose, they were very understaffed, the person was new, the Meximelt steamer misfired and castrated all the males in the room. It could happen.

Oh no. None of this was true.

I got up to the window and saw a sneering Hussy walking around with one 78-inch-long fingernail dangling from what I presumed to be my bag of 7-Layer Burritos. There were five other people on the line standing around listening to the Hus-monster, whose other hand was extended in the way that only a true ghetto girl can find to express herself.

It was making the bitch-ass gesture. You know the one, gets your head goin' all crazy, so much you gots to say, even your ass starts to go? Mmmmhmm, that one.

No one seemed to be getting work done very quickly at this Taco Bell. Huss-head was saying something about, "Uh-uh, I had to call my girlfriend and tell her about that Tyrone, he wo' out he welcome up in my crib, stank ass motha fucka. Nigga's like that get old!......"

I listened to her talk for a couple of minutes until she came to the window and told me how much to pay her, she then handed me my food coldeffectively freeing up my power to be really ugly.

She asked me, "SAUCE!", not really as a question, but sort of an angry query.

I yelled back, "HOT!"

Miss-huss let me know with her face that she did NOT approve of my tone. Then she picked up my sauce and turned to the group on the line who were still doing their Amazing Elvis and the Three-Toed Sloth impersonation, and started to tell more tantalizing tidbits about Tyrone.

Now, I had my food. I could have just driven away. But something about the Red Snappers took over my head. The window didn't shut all the way at this particular drive-thru, a handy fact for me.

I stuck my hand in the window and smacked it back and fourth wildly, while saying, "Bitch, get your fat ass over here, I'm about to tell you what's old. What's old is my old ass sittin up in this line waitin for a mother fuckin half hour for your ass to tell some bullshit about some motherfucker I don't know, waving around my Goddamn cold-ass motherfuckin burritos!"

*ahem, I had to do it, I simply lost control*

I'm here to tell you, you should have seen the look on that trash's face! Not to mention the Heap of Underachiever on the Taco Bell line, they looked like they might fall over from shock. It was priceless, really.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the last word.

As fast as a thing of beauty can be born, Hussy-the-Taco-Bell-Twat says. "Shut yo Mouf, Nigga!"

I was in shock, I don't think I've ever been called "nigger" before, and I started to laugh. Game over, I had to drive away. I don't think I shall go to that drive-thru anymore. I might get shit in my food.

The company I work for was moving to another floor today. As a result of no electricity (important) and no network connectivity (also important, though irrelevant as we were missing the former) we were sent home early.

I took the bus, as usual. It was a bit crowded, and I almost stepped on someone's foot. The person clearly overreacted, almost pushing me away. A troublemaker. Better stay away from them.

About 10 minutes later, some poor kids entered the bus without paying. Nobody really cares, but the kids were small children, 10-11 years old, three boys and one girl, and they were carrying small sacks of mostly dry glue. Children around here use this cheap industrial glue as a drug. The main desired effect, they say, is that it makes you forget about your hunger.

I stayed there, amused at my own lack of action. Nobody seemed to care. Nobody wanted to fix their eyes on the kids, except for the troublemaker, who was visibly annoyed, though not in ways a sensitive person would be. When the bus stopped in the next station, he brutally threw the kids out of the bus as the doors closed.

One of the boys came running with a stone after the slowly moving bus. He'd never throw it, he'd probably not even do any damage if he did (our buses are designed to resist crowds of violent football fans). But the troublemaker couldn't just let it go. He pointed a gun at the kid from inside the moving bus. (note: carrying guns around is not allowed in this country) The kid ran away.

Of course everyone was startled. A gun nut was in the bus. The man claimed to be a policeman, but he was walking around with a gun and without an uniform, clearly off-duty. A nurse nearby started arguing with him, very rightly so: how could he point a gun at a 10 year-old child? The man claimed, correctly, that as a policeman he wasn't in position of conducting the necessary social reforms to provide proper education for the poor. He didn't accept the idea that he overreacted. No words about the emotional impact of having a gun pointed at you when you are 10 or 11.

A few people joined the argument. An old man with gray hair quickly acted to aid the troublemaker. "That was necessary, they were not children, they were small criminals". Yeah, right, a poor 11 years-old girl who never went to school because she was not allowed to is a "criminal" now. This gray-haired man was our Common Man, the enemy, the person who leads the downards spiral.

As for me, members of the jury, I plead guilty. I was among those pretending they were not seeing the children, I was pretending I couldn't do anything to help them, and I allowed the fascist with the gun and the fascist with the gray hair to continue living their poisonous lives as usual.

I was the worst criminal of the bunch.

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