Most efficient way to make a boring, pointless meeting you had no real need nor desire to attend even MORE pointless: have it run long, so that you don’t even get to make the brief presentation you were scheduled to make at the end…
I want this week to be over so very badly…
Well said. I keep thinking of all the yupsters who were, a couple of years back, moving into “live/work lofts” in San Francisco neighborhoods largely populated by PRE-EXISTING warehouses and nightspots. Imagine their horror at discovering that, hey, warehouses and nightspots (like airports) tend to be noisy neighbors…
It rather makes one wonder where they found the intelligence required even to save up a down payment for their luxury homes and condos. What’s that old saying about fools and their money? The way I see it, any individual too stupid to find out what an area is like before buying a home there is thoroughly deserving of whatever problems and discomforts he experiences. It’s a shame that it’s probably illegal to require an IQ test of mortgage applicants…
The scary thing is that, in Chapel Hill (and arguably in San Francisco), the fools pretty much won. Where’s Darwin when you need him?
Kudos to whoever did the search last month on “I am a plant and David is my master”. That one gave me a chuckle. I don’t quite understand why someone searched for “spaghetti warehouse recipes”, though…
Posted the exciting finale of the Northwest Tour Journal tonight. I now realize I definitely should have made my customary notes; the narrative is not stellar, but the pictures are fun. As always, you can start with the new stuff or at the beginning…
Eleven days until I see Mark again. It’s not going to be pretty…
AT&T Broadband, let me count the ways that you suck. Could it be your antiquated cable system and your limited channel capacity? Your frequent outages? The fact that I could get a more watchable signal on my local stations using rabbit ears? Or maybe it’s just the very fact that you’re a part of AT&T at all, which by default means that customer service and a quality product are foreign concepts to you?
Anyway, you’re history at my house as of next Friday. And when your telemarketers call, begging me to come back, be assured that I will not treat them gently…
Sorry to be so out of touch this week. I’m using the fact that Mark will be doing the Mother’s Day thing this weekend as an excuse to do some long-delayed work on Bottles, and I’ve been getting an early start all week long. It’s rare for me to feel this industrious; I have to use it while I have it. Look for the updates by Monday, if you care…
Now it’s back to Cops (assuming the cable doesn’t go out for the next half hour) and promoting sweeps month on The WB…
So my high school reunion is tentatively scheduled for the first week in November in Greensboro. I used to have dreams of going to it with a drag queen in a sequined nightgown as my date, to show my contempt for the people I graduated with. Now I just don’t care anymore. I never cared much for my high school classmates. And I prefer to think the feeling was mutual…
I overslept this morning, and now I fell all fuzzy-headed and dehydrated. The latter probably has to do with the fact that my dinner last night was so garlic-soaked that I can still taste it, even after brushing my teeth twice. Gotta love Rocco’s on Folsom…
For the record, I already hate this idea…
And I’m lukewarm about this one too, but you sort of have to respect this guy for having enough geek in him to do the job right. Even CalTrans seems a little impressed…
Big updates at Bottles (with more to come). I also ran all the assorted Norton Utilities, rebuilt my desktop, killed off hundreds of megabytes of old and useless files, and then taught myself a few new things about Apache configuration files…
Miss you too, baby. Frankly, transferring all this pent-up energy is a little exhausting, both for me and for the G4. But tomorrow, I’m going to Stockton to give my camera a workout instead. Mmmm. Abandoned supermarkets…
For those of you who have waited too long, be advised that most of the major online florists can still get flowers to your mom if you get in touch with them before noon (in her time zone) on Saturday. This is a public service message from your friends at The Other Stream…
So I’m driving around downtown Oakland this afternoon (never quite made it to Stockton) and happen to pass the Paramout Theatre, and see that Vertigo is playing there on Friday 31 May. I get a little stiffy right then and there and I almost plow into the old I. Magnin store…
That’s just not to be missed. I could almost spooge myself thinking about seeing the CREDITS in that place…
Nearly six years ago, I wrote my original essay on sex, love, and relationships. For many years it was a freestanding page on Planet SOMA before I merged it in with the journal entries on this site. I think it stands up rather well, but I also think it’s time I revisited and reexamined some of my premises. Things have changed in my life in the past six years, and very significantly in the past six months.
I’m now in love with someone and in the midst of the most serious and most satisfying relationship of my life. It was not something I planned or was even really seeking. It was just one of those random events which happens in one’s life: I answered a bit of email from a reader, started a bit of correspondence with him, eventually met him, and realized pretty quickly that he was someone special. Someone unlike anyone I’d ever known. And someone with whom, from the very beginning, I wanted to spend a lot more time. Things progressed pretty quickly from that point on.
For years and years, I clung to the notion that sex and love were not necessarily related, and very often were best kept separate. Imagine my surprise at meeting someone for whom I felt both an intellectual and an emotional attachment. And imagine my even greater surprise when (a) it was mutual and (b) it endured.
No more longing for the “wrong boy” who was unavailable or a bad choice for whatever reason. No more wanting to spend my time with one person while preferring to have sex with anyone else interesting who came along. To be honest, it took me a while to get used to the idea. But the really surprising thing is that it didn’t take me nearly as long as I might have expected.
A couple of big barriers in my past relationships have been the twin curses of my difficulty in trusting people and my inability to communicate what I was feeling in a direct manner. These two weaknesses have often resulted in relationships which caused me more pain and heartache than actual happiness. And I’m pretty sure my anxiety was readily apparent to its targets, especially when I bottled up my frustrations and only communicated through passive-aggressive outbursts.
My past relationships have also seemed a bit one-sided. In other words, one partner seemed more involved than the other. Note that this partner was not always me. But the imbalance (and the lack of any real communication about it) always caused a certain level of anxiety for both parties and ultimately strained things to the breaking point.
It’s so much different this time. Perhaps because we’d discussed our premises to some extent even before we met the first time, if only in hypothetical terms (since I for one was not sure what I was getting into, although I had an idea). We’ve been pretty honest from day one, and it’s eliminated the need for me always to be “on guard” and to agonize over every word and every expression of affection. I feel like I can talk to him about anything.
Maybe it’s because I trust him completely in the way that I trust my other closest friends. Which doesn’t mean that I trust him not to “screw around on me” or whatever. It means that I trust him not to do anything intentionally which would cause me pain or damage. And to recognize (or at least to discuss with me) the difference between the things which really would and the things which are trivial. And I trust myself to do the same for him.
Maybe it’s also because our views are not completely at odds. And because we haven’t had unrealistic expectations of each other. We took each other at face value, and continue to do so. I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not. And any changes I’ve made in my life have been completely consistent with my own values and ethics. We have grown together in many ways, but we’ve managed to retain our individuality and our own lives, which is perhaps the most important thing to me.
And lastly, maybe it’s just because he’s such an amazing person, and possesses his own strong sense of self and of life.
An admission which will surprise many of my friends and readers: I haven’t seriously considered a sexual fling with another person since the night I met the current object of my affection. It’s not because we decided that “we must be monogamous or it won’t work” or any other such nonsense. In fact, we’ve never said as much and probably never would.
It’s been no effort nor sacrifice to me. In fact, it was never even a conscious decision per se; it’s just that no one else quite seems to measure up to the level of emotional, physical, and intellectual stimulation I’ve found. It’s sort of the way that I know one certain restaurant in San Francisco has the best collard greens: I may very well eat them somewhere else at some point, but I’d prefer to have them at this one place, because I know they’re better there.
From 1996:
I have really high standards for the people I call my “friends”; very few manage to make it for the long haul. But what happens when someone meets these standards and there’s also a “romantic” connection? Is it time to reevaluate the concept that the people I really like and the people I have sex with should be completely separate? Is it not possible that I’m not always after “the wrong boy”?
In short, I guess it is. It seems to have happened through the exceedingly rare combination of trust, intellectual stimulation, respect for each other’s individuality and need for occasional solitude, and, yes, sexual attraction. With this foundation firmly in place, I think the subsequent levels will fall into place quite nicely.
I hope so, at least. The next level is cohabitation. I’ve never even seriously considered it before. Not once. Now I really want it, and I think I’m ready for it. It’s most likely one of the most significant steps I’ve ever taken, and it’s amazing that I’m not particularly apprehensive about it. It seems like the most natural thing in the world.
Look for another update in 2008…
Hope everyone called Mom today. I tried, and found out she’d gone to the beach for the next week. I love my mom. My dad doesn’t like to travel much, but she does, so she just goes off and does her thing. I like to think she’ll still be going off to the beach with her sisters or her friends when she’s in her 90s…
I could never quite understand why my grandmother (who died eleven years ago) never learned to drive. Otherwise she was a very independent person too; she worked all her life and supplemented her income by renting rooms. She was a lady who was married three times and divorced twice, and this was back when Southern ladies just didn’t do that sort of thing. But after he last husband died, she had to sell his car and count on friends and relatives anytime she wanted to go someplace. Greensboro is not the kind of place where you can walk or rely on transit. Not driving was fairly common among women of her generation, and I guess it ultimately spared her children the decision about whether she was too old to drive, but still…
On today’s agenda: I may start my “ultimate spring cleaning” where I start going through the closet of doom, throwing things away with reckless abandon. I’ve accumulated a lot of crap in ten years. The goal for today is to be able to fit the vacuum cleaner back in the closet. And to find T-shirts I’ve forgotten I own. I’ll advise you of my progress…
Status update: vacuum cleaner is snugly inside closet, and many heaping garbage bags of things I can’t figure out how to get rid of are sitting on my kitchen floor. Anybody need a fried 15″ apple monitor or a dead HP scanner? How about a 13″ color TV without a functional tuner?
I missed you, luv. I don’t think my constitution could take another weekend at this one’s pace…
Lastly, a note to Fox: if you guys thought that Brady Bunch episode might make people who don’t otherwise watch The X-Files tune in tonight, you were, ummm, absolutely right…
A remake of Family Affair with Tim Curry as Mr. French? That almost can’t help being interesting. And being cancelled before Mrs. Beasley is even good and broken in…
Damn. A 5.2 earthquake. Just a few minutes ago. Something glass crashed in my apartment, but I can’t find what it was. A little rumbling and then it got bigger. Not really big, but it lasted a long time, and just as I was getting concerned, it stopped…
A few minutes later: I won. I got my story up minutes before the AP or SF Gate. So there. Now if the TV news would just shut the hell up about it…
I have an idea for a business which might only work in San Francisco. I propose to start a protest consulting service…
Need to make a suitably indignant statement about some grave corporate evil, but finding yourself without the time nor energy to spend on it? Call me. I’ll arrange the inflammatory banners, print the vague handbills which basically give no information about the issue, and hire the homeless guys to annoy passers-by with them in front of whichever downtown office you choose…
For an extra fee, I might even come up with a theme protest. With costumes and balloons…
On any given day, there are probably at least five to ten protests being staged (and largely being ignored) in San Francisco. I figure I could make a fortune as long as I could pretend to give a crap about “the cause” long enough to get the contracts signed. Could be even more lucrative if I could score some counter-protests too, as long as I were organizing both sides…
Whaddaya think?
I’ve had the hardest time dragging my ass out of bed this week. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I’ve been staying up a little later or the fact that my part-time job seems more soul-sucking and mind-numbing than usual this week. Or both…
But it’s only two days now until life gets much better, at least for the weekend. I can’t remember ever having such a compelling reason to look forward to the weekend. And those of you who are getting sick of this whole romance thing might want to skip this new essay where I revisit several assupmtions from an older one and contemplate the next step, as it were…
And no, I shan’t be waiting in line to see the new Star Wars movie at 12:01 AM. Here’s an admission: I haven’t experienced a single Star Wars movie since I saw the original at the now-demolished Janus Theatre in Greensboro way back in 1977. Not on TV, not on video, not at all. Wow. It felt good saying that…
Awww. A pride rant after my very own heart. Don’t worry, pumpkin. I’ll offer you safe haven…
The satellite guy’s here. He’s not particiularly appealing, so there will be no pornographic fantasy stories. I just hope he gets the set-up right at this point…
Fucking Pacific Bell. I’ve now had problems with my voicemail for the third time. The alert tone goes out so I don’t know I have new messages. I don’t even realize it’s going on until I just happen to call in to check messages from someplace else and I’m surprised to find I have about 12 of them backed up from the past three or four days, some of them semi-urgent…
Sometimes I hate technology…
There’s something kind of wonderful about catching a 35-year-old episode of “Hollywood Squares” right before bed. And something a little sad about realizing that the vast majority of the assorted squares are dead. The world would be a better place if Wally Cox were still around. I know it would…
My evening would be much better if a certain someone were around too…
Have I ever mentioned my theory about how Steely Dan may be the greatest American musical phenomenon ever?
Had a rare phone conversation with Becky tonight, and also talked to Duncan. Which means I’ve spent longer chatting on the phone in the past two hours than in the past two weeks. Despite my phone phobia, this is a good thing. Sometimes, text-only format leaves something to be desired…
And now I’m going to bed. Sleep seems more exciting even than Wally Cox tonight…
It was a long, annoying, shitty, rotten day. A happy surprise was needed, and it came in the form of Viva Rock Vegas, which was considerably better than I thought it would be when I didn’t see it in the theatre a year or two back…
I’ll stop talking about my satellite soon, I promise, but I have to have some sort of entertainment now that summer’s coming and the nights are starting to get colder…
Note to those unfamiliar with San Francisco weather: that last statement was NOT meant to be ironic…
Damn Yahoo Mail indeed. My second technological breakdown of the week. And that’s not counting all the ones at work…
If it’s only 67 outside, why does it feel hotter than the fires of hell in my apartment?
The above via Ultramundane, which is populated by a fellow New Schooler, although neither of us bears much resemblance to the one in the photo…
Things I hate tonight:
Stupid soccer moms at Target who don’t quite grasp the concept of “six items or less” and don’t even take out their checkbooks to beging writing a check (who writes checks anymore anyway?) until the last possible second.
Things I love tonight:
Some rhetorical questions must be asked in a semi-public forum, and this is one of them: is there anyone who really thinks Sally Forth is funny?
Is it just my imagination or is this stale comic strip (about the boring soccer mom and her gadget-happy husband and their annoying daughter) no more than half a step above The Family Circus for sheer belly laughs? Does anyone really give a flying fuck about mom’s office politics, or about daughter’s fascination with this month’s (or more likely LAST month’s) pop culture phenomenon, or about whatever the hell dad does all day?
it’s not that they’re a white suburban middle class family. It’s that they’re a BORING, UNFUNNY white suburban middle class family. I would not go to dinner at their house. I might not even brake if I was about to run into their minivan…
There. It needed to be said, I’ve said it, and now I can move on to Foxtrot. I love Foxtrot…
Thanks for listening…
Random thoughts for a Tuesday afternoon:
Bad day. Bad, bad day. It’s time to get serious about job-hunting. But enough said on that subject.
The weekend was much better, which, of course, made today look even worse by contrast. I do love my boy, and I’m anxious for the time when seeing him stops being a weekend-only thing.
Is it just me or does it seem there might have been a better way to memorialize the victims of the World Trade Center attack than to have (very) low-flying planes circling around San Francisco and scaring hell out of the unaware on Memorial Day? Jeez, it sounded like they were going to take out the Bay Bridge and graze my roof in the process.
Hehehe (link via Rae, who lived through the very same hell as me)…
It’s no secret to anyone who knows me well that my many years dealing with the public shaped my personality in a very meaningful way. Believe it or not, there was a time when I actually liked people and had faith in humanity…
OK, maybe I’m overstating that a little, but I really was much less cynical before I started interacting with the public for pay. Even now, when I haven’t really waited on a customer in a retail business in about five years, I still can’t shake the notion that a high proportion of the people I’ll encounter in the course of an average day will be blathering idiots…
It’s depressing sometimes, especially since I’m usuallly right…
So baseball players are using steroids and there’s currently no rule saying they can’t. Is there any real reason I should care?
I’m a strong advocate of ethics, but I prefer to fight battles about things which actually MATTER in the overall scheme of things. Frankly, this is no more of an ethical crisis than the fact that certain musicians are stoned out of their gourds when they walk onstage. Get some perspective: professional baseball players are nothing more than somewhat overpaid entertainers. Earth will continue to orbit the sun no matter what drugs they take and whether or not their performance is enhanced by taking them…
I’m no more appalled by this than by learning that Milli Vanilli lip-synched their musical drivel, or that Bart Simpson’s voice is provided by a woman, or that certain game shows in the 1950s were rigged in order to make them more entertaining. Really, who cares? It’s show biz. It’s all about illusion and entertainment. We’re not talking foreign policy here…
One benefit, though, is that a 50% drug-abuse rate might save us from any number of tedious TV guest appearances by ex-jocks in coming decades, since many of them will be dead and all…
So I guess I’ll be spending the weekend with my mistress rather than with number one. Not my preferred state of affairs, but at least there’s Vertigo with Sarah at the Paramount tomorrow night (or tonight, depending on when you tuned in)…
But for now, sleep has an almost magical allure. I won’t say exactly why I lost so much sleep Wednesday night, but I will state for the record that I won’t be visiting Quizno’s again anytime soon…
Once again, if you happen to be in Kansas City tonight, this is where you should be. Good luck, Señor Drub…