I'm just not with it today. Don't know if I'm tired, bored, fed up, or what it is, but I just don't feel like working, and certainly don't feel like having to talk to other people around the office. Which is a shame, because I've somehow got sucked into going to a farewell dinner for one of our contractors. I really don't want to go.

It'd be a lot easier if communicating with other people came easily to me, but it really doesn't, so I have to have some sort of motivation to actually speak, and it's not often there. I'm the quiet one. I'm also the one who procrastinates if he has work to do that involves speaking to anybody else, in any form other than email. This is not a good thing.

Bah, enough work talk. I've only got two hours to go, and then I'll hopefully be able to get out of this dinner early enough to meet Anna on time.

We've finally got band practise again this weekend, with one, perhaps two new drummers coming along. I'm not sure how I feel about this, my enthusiasm in Askew has waned lately, due to the fact that the type of music I really want to do doesn't quite match up to the ideas of the rest of the band.

Grr, my brain isn't working. I don't even know how I feel about most of this stuff. It's just frustrating, things are moving too slowly lately... I want to get singing lessons, but I need to save for a car first so I can actually get to them, and that'll probably take at least 6 months. I want to get my damn uni degree over and done with, but I haven't even started my final year yet, and I don't know how well I'm going to be able to juggle uni and work. I really really want to move out with Anna, get out of my parents place, be together every day, but that's not going to happen for 2 years at the earliest. So until any of these things happen, it's a case of Same Shit, Different Day. (Yes, I did just read Dreamcatcher, if you're wondering)

The problem with my job, actually, is that it's a really good one, and I actually enjoy it some of the time. Huh? Yeh, but then there's all the expectations of taking my job seriously enough to do overtime, be on call, and go out for drinks with the rest of the team. TEAM. I'm not good in a team, I like to work alone. Communication is not my strong point.

OK, I'm rambling again. I hope Anna will be able to hypnotise me sometime this year, and help my habitual procrastination and my lack of motivation. I don't know if it works like that, but I'd like it to.

Meh.
Subtitle: The Waiting Game I'm currently in a state of limbo for three reasons.

1.) Having turned up at the cinema last night to see Monsters. Inc, the queue was so long I could've had a birthday whilst waiting. So I'm now waiting until the crowds thin out so that I can go see it without queuing with hormonal teenagers.

2.) Work. There's nothing going on. I come in, sit, wait for something to happen. They tell me it will. It hasn't. Incidentally, I don't hate my job. When it's busy, it's great.

3.) My girlfriend is trying to decide whether she wants to be with me anymore. There is a letter at home waiting for me. Waiting to tell me if her being a Christian and me not being one (yet) is the deciding factor on whether we can continue. She loves you yeah, yeah, yeah. She loves God more. I can understand this, and I don't feel sad. But what does make me sad, is that I'm trying to understand her life, her thoughts and why she thinks things. She's funny, intelligent, smart and sensitive and she fascinates me. But right now, she's putting me through purgatory by not answering the one question.

But I'll get through it. The waiting will end; I'll see the film, work will pick up and the girl will let me know. The only way, ever, is up.

Later that day: I have the letter. We've split. It's for the right reason, but not one I believe in. If you love someone, you have to let them go right? The best bit is that she won't leave my life and that's good because it's a much brighter place with her in it.

I do daylog, and I'm daylogging.

It's my birthday. Check the homenode for the exact number. Let's just say I'm getting to the age where my parents were when I started to consider them old when I was a child. And I was right, they were old then, and I'm old now.

My wonderful, wonderful wife managed to have a suprise party for me last friday. I've got to start keeping a closer eye on her. She managed to arrange a party with 20 people at a restuarant without me having a clue. I really had no idea anything was planned. Maybe I'm losing my edge with my old age. :). Anywho, it was very much a good time, and there was a fair amount of Killians imbibed. I'd like to say I drank my age in pints, but it was more like ounces. I tell ya, I'm gettin' old.

Forgive me Nate, for I have sinned. It's been several months since my last node, and even then, it was a daylog. I've got a few ideas for nodes, but until they really firm up in the graymatter, I'd rather not add them just yet.

But, on the other hand, I've been having a great time with Everything the community. I spend a great deal of time on IRC in #everything. I've made friends, lost friends and dealt with some shitty emotions. The ops have even managed to deal with my typing tourette's and I haven't been banned yet. It's a great place to hang out, and there's always somebody there willing to talk. We've laughed, cried and survived another year together.

On the home front, life is great. No major problems this year, and two graduations to attend this year. I'm healthy, the wife is healthy, and the kids are healthy. We've had no major personal shocks this year, so that's a good thing.

Noders, thank you for being yourselves. I treasure each and every one of you.

I just smashed my head off a corner in my overly angle-filled bedroom while trying to make up my bed. It was right on the back of my head, down in the lower right part of my skull. I have a pretty queasy feeling right now ... hopefully, this isn't a concussion. On the bright side, if it is a concussion, I can enjoy feeling endorphins flood my brain and get me high as a kitemake me feel quite a bit better!.

This September past, I was walking down Spring Garden Road in Halifax (where I live- duh), and a tree limb cracked off, hitting me full on in the head, making me bleed like crazy and giving me a concussion - I must have had semi/quasi temporary amnesia, because I simply cannot remember talking to some of the people that I talked to between that time and the next day.

The strangest things happen when you

least

expect them.

My parents just got into town for a few hours on a stopover flight, so I'll be going out for a real meal ... how's that for a change?

My bed is still unmade; I'd forgotten about it while I was writing this.

no endorphins yet...

lollipoptrollop: ...I hope you will be doing better now... As far as my sense of telempathy goes, it feels to me like you've had a nasty infected cut that had scabbed over... And now the scab has been ripped off and the damn thing's finally been cleaned out. All ouchy, but cleaner.

And it's true. I finally gave her my engagement ring back. For the second time; after we became friends again I asked for it back. It seemed pretty likely that we would be together again, at some point in the future. Now it doesn't. That ring was a promise, first; she broke it. Then it was a hope; she crushed it. All it is now is a memory of happiness that could've been, but will never be.
I feel the way Frodo must have, throwing the One Ring into the fires of Mt. Doom; except without the fate of the world resting on my shoulders.

So we talked about all the things we miss about each other and how we feel in general. It hurts me so much to hear about her new boyfriend; but she loves to hear about ana. Blah blah blah. We talked about upcoming shows (Domiana and Tragic Black in two days at Sanctuary, and then Awaiting Treatment and Little Sap Dungeon the next night, along with X96's Queen Of The Damned party, and then Assemblage 23 on April 13th, and we wish we had more details than that!) and new cds and things we like and dislike about the scene. We talked about how much I changed when we were together, and how now I'm much more like who I was before we met then I was while we were together; how it is more appropriate that she calls me chesh now, as that's who I am and was before, rather than Ian, which is who I was for the first 15 years of my life and then again while with her.
Ian is dead, now.

Anyway, that chapter of my life is closed now. We're friends, and always will be.

I do not regret the choices that I have made, I know you feel the same.
VNV Nation, Beloved.

I need to stop daylogging and write actual nodes now! Time to get to work!

I got a letter from UCAS this morning, Sheffield university rejected my application for their Japanese Studies course. I spent 6 months building up to this but I'm still shocked.

I decided last year to apply to University, to try and improve my situation. I didn't bother even trying to apply to Uni when I was doing my A-levels (pretty badly). Now most of my friends from school are finishing their degrees and I can't even get accepted. I only applied to two places because the course can vary wildly depending where you go, and they were the most highly reccommended. London are yet to come back to me, but when I visited them they were fairly negative towards me.

I'm so shocked because I really bought into all the talk that mature students are given a fair chance (Mature Student is defined as 21 or over at the start of the course). After returning from Sheffield on an open day I was left with a happy buzz. They were trying to convince me to choose them. I had explained my low A-Level grades and was told that determination and enthusiasm were just as important factors.

I didn't even get an interview, something (I have read) that most mature students get. 6 months of research and planning and forms and (excited) tension, all to be dismissed at the first hurdle.

There's still clearing, or an access course. I am only 21 after all. Reading things like 'I was supposed to be somebody by the age of 23' helps me to put things in perspective, and realise that I'm not the only one. Sometimes it's so easy to believe that you're the only person who can possibly feel the way you do, this place helps keep me grounded.

I think I need to spend some time thinking about where I go from here and what directions I want to take. What makes me happy?

My first node that sent to Node Heaven, and I want to add to it, so it's just become a daylog, instead:

I'm not even going to touch the "women prefer assholes" question, except indirectly - but I do want to go off on the tangent of "what do women really want if they don't want assholes" except, not being enough of an egotist to speak for my entire gender/race/species/class, I'd have to define it as "what this woman prefers....." (And that really divides into two categories as well -what this woman wants (in general) and what this woman wants (in bed), but the two do, strangely enough have commonalities. Strange.) Background logic - I've been surfing match.com for about a year, and have yet to meet someone through that medium who has all the ingredients of "I can hardly wait to jump him." So I've tried to understand what intrigues me. Also, I spent my adolescence in the south - this turns out to be a fairly important contributing factor.

1. fuckability is much more complicated as you age. I miss college, where the equation -"he's kinda cute, I think I'll jump him" leads to boyfriend, leads to eventual realization that even tho he makes your panties wet, you can't stand his company. (See following.)

2. Language is the Root of All Sexiness, or Women are Turned on Verbally, Men are Turned on Visually. A female type my age (37) did not have anything even vaguely resembling pornography or dirty pictures to look at during adolescence, so most girls got their first thrills not from looking at nekkid pictures, but from reading smut. (The only pictures of nekkid men that appeared during my adolescence were clearly intended for other nekkid men - the playgirl variety.) (Altho I will confess to having read various documents beginning with "I never thought it would happen to me but...." at various times in my life. The same rule still applies. Language, not appearance....) The "He pressed his burning kisses down her bosom" and "his throbbing manhood" kind of smut - I remember one where the babe must not have had any intact dresses left, he ripped her bodice open so many times.

Corrolary: I am turned on by language. The best foreplay is a good, vivid description of what someone is planning to do to me later in bodice ripper language, full of euphemisms or the I never thought it would happen to me but.... kind - in person at dinner, via e-mail, on the phone....I don't care. (Don't you remember the scene in the novel Jaws where the heroine goes to the bathroom at the beginning of the affair to take her panties off? This was a formative moment for me...) Sex with no imagination, well, I could do just as well by myself. (See Every Woman's Fantasy, by Iseult. If I could cool it, I would.) It's true, but it'll work better if I know what to expect....conversely, if I've had a hellish day at work and all I really want is a martini and to be Left Alone, an unexpected attempt to bend me over the table may result in a quick left uppercut. Not conducive to an imaginative sex life.) Delta of Venus was also pretty eye-opening.

3. Stupidity is Sexy. Not run-of-the mill stupidity, but goofiness-type stupidity. Invite me to pick raspberries and then start a raspberry fight. Preferably on a really hot, sweaty, muggy, day, with a skinny dippin' hole nearby, when all I really want to wear is raggedy old shorts and a bikini top anyway. Think of the possibilities....

4. Laughter is Sexy. Make me laugh. Tickle me. Make me snort milk out my nose. Laugh at my stupid, crass jokes, bitter sarcasm, clever one-liners and I will follow you home, panting.

5. Flirting is Sexy. See the comment about growing up in the south - southerners are pucilanimous, suspicious, dangerous, loyal, hospitable, charming, mean, and they hold grudges, but man, can they flirt. Watch a seventeen-year-old batting eyes at his great-aunt, and you'll get the idea. Make me think you think I'm pretty sexy, and chances are I'll start feeling it. Which leads to -

6. Sublety is Sexy. The kind of flirting in number 5 is not the "cute titties" type of flirting, but the focusing of an incredibly tight beam of attention on me and then load on the hyperbole.

7. Sensuality is Sexy. (See #6.) Back to the raspberries. How much of a really I-can-hardly-walk-now, rub me with peanut butter lovemaking session would be actual intercourse? Throw in a shower, a roll in the raspberries, a chance to dress and undress each other, a massage, a meal of disgustingly sexy food not only used for nourishment... (see lesbian love scene in The Lyre of Orpheus, Robertson Davies) and now you're starting to engage all senses. And all available body parts.

8. Slow Down. Slow down. Make out. Watch the Submarine Races. Slow down. Slow it godamm down.

9. Imagination is Sexy. See corrolary of 2, above. We may not be actually doing those things, but a little imagination goes a long way. Fucking is just fucking, sex is a cornocopeia.

10. Everybody Wants Me. Not a statement of egotism, but a point of view. If I start thinking everybody wants me before I go to the grocery store, I'm a lot more likely to make eyes at the hot gal checking out the cantaloupes, or flirt with the bag boy. And who knows, maybe it's true?

My step dad is an asshole. My back is killing me now. I can barely walk it hurts so bad. part of it is from spending so much time laying on the floor yesterday but i do that all the time. I brought my chair in here because the one that stays in here is uncomfortable but they say this one is "ugly" so it can't stay in the living room. Well the chair that does stay in here I just moved over, where it was in front of the couch. My step-dad decided it was in his way and slammed it into the back of my chair as hard as he could and it pushed me into the desk and pushed the desk forward a bit. Now my tummy hurts where it hit the desk and my back hurts alot. That's the first time he's ever done anything like that. I was in tears from the pain after he did it and then he gave me that look. The look that says "I'll take the computer away." I hate that look. If I say anything about it though he'll say I'm "playing games" and come up with a reason to take the computer away for a long time.

He's at work now so I'm home alone. Ok well I was but my mom just walked in. I'm trying to get my essays done for school but can't keep my mind on just one task. I'm shaking so bad again.

I'm really urgy to cut but if he or my mom finds out I hurt myslef I'll lose the computer. I'm so lost I just dont know what to do anymore. I'm sorry. I should just shut up but I can't. I always come crawling back.

I'm almost positive that I'm going to get kicked out of this lab, and before I can manage to log out I will leave, and some Economics student will wander along, find me still logged on, logged in, whatever it is I am when my name is in the top right-hand corner, and they will say, "What m├Ądness is this? and why is it all one big clumpy paragraph? where are the cool fonts? where is the concreteness of this non-poetry?"

I love it when I can pretend to be cooler than I really am.

Today was like being in a movie. It was not between classes, it was when everyone had a class, even me, but I wasn't there. I was walking across the....courtyard? no, not a courtyard, but a big wide open concrete space between the two libraries. The bell tower, in front of my favourite library, was chiming/ringing/singing a happy little song, and the area was weirdly devoid of people. I'm not sure if devoid is a word. Too Bad.

And so the wind was blowing my hair slightly, and I walked purpose-fully across the non-courtyard, the bells singing an unhappy song in the background. There was no sun, but it was bright; eye-squintingly bright. And it felt like a movie, it felt like somewhere was a camera with a director behind it and somewhere someone would yell "Cut! Get that girl out of the shot!"

But no one yelled cut, and so I felt like an unknown movie star, walking across with the wind in my face, blowing back the edges of my very dirty jacket, the one I'd wash if I wasn't so busy wearing it, showing off my fat and my borrowed tshirt and my stolen pants, the ones that used to be much to large but then I fattened into them. And it was a good day.

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