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John Q. Noder's worst nightmare -- after hours of work, I fear I might've made a bunch of redundant writeups.

I recently noded books 1 and 2 of Machabees -- a major undertaking, with something like a million hardlinks between the two (see 2 Machabees 5 as an example).

I just learned that they were noded last month by ephealy, entirely hardlink free, under a different name (see 2 Maccabees 5). ephealy's and my versions are also different translations with a fair amount of disagreement between verse numbers.

Two things to keep in mind: Rook points out that 'Maccabees' is probably the preferred form, since their sources transliterate the Hebrew root as 'maqqabyahu'. On the other hand, the Catholic Church has been referring to the books for several hundred years as 'Machabees' (short form, 'Mach') -- see the Catholic Encyclopedia article, The Books of Machabees.

My friend Michelle sent me a cd in the mail for her band Bedford Drive. I haven't listened to it yet, because the lead singer of the band is my ex-boyfriend Scott. He's on the verge of marriage now, and is expecting a son any second. I haven't been able to listen to the cd because I'm still agitated by the idea of Scott getting on with everything in large stomping leaps. A new relationship, a new place to live, a creative burst, a new role in life. It seems like it should have taken longer, for both of us maybe. I left and became involved in a new relationship, leaving behind bitter shreds for him to play house with in the company of his new girlfriend. My old bed, all kinds of our knick-knacks, things that neither of us knew what to do with. He picked it all up and turned it into songs, he apologized for the cheating and the lies, and he got on with his life.

So I'm a little jealous. He was the bad guy in the relationship, and he admitted it. So why do I still care at all about what he gets or doesn't get? Why do I care at all? I want his life to be better in general. I don't want to be any part of it. I just have a morbid interest I guess in finding out why my life with Scott didn't work out the way that her life with Scott is working out. If I could see what happened in gory detail, I could avoid it in the future.

I'm moving in with my current boyfriend in a couple of weeks. We are tentatively planning on moving to Boston after spending another year or so here in Phoenix. And then what? Scott and I lasted 3 years. John and I are pushing 2, and I don't want what happened before to happen again. How do you make things work, when you're not sure what went wrong or when? Can you fix hurtful immaturity? Does it manifest itself in different ways after a while? Blah.
Since my taxes were not as high as I had feared, now I have some savings to spend (big grin). It is kinda fun to think about what to get. I'm leaning towards a Handspring Visor and maybe a new computer system.

It was really nice weather-wise in Boston today...I took advantage of this and walked around some downtown. I went and bought some fried dough (I got a Canadian quarter in my change).

I can't wait until summer. I want to find some hiking trails in the area, and explore some. I hope I can find some as fun as the ones I enjoyed when I was in Maryland, such as Billy Goat Trail. A few rocks to climb over but nothing vertical, that is my speed.

Tommy Maddox is talking on TV about winning the XFL championship. I'm glad its over because this means SNL will soon be on....

Due to my alcohol level yesterday, I didn't node. Sort of weird. I actually woke up this morning, remembering that I didn't node. I've become an e2 freak. Once again, I sit here, in the dark. This time, Jagged Edge is on my winamp, with their smooth R&B voices tantilizing the air. It has been an interesting two days, one full of both happiness and sadness. I take my glasses off, and place them on top of the printer. Nostalgia is a dangerous thing as it can drive you insane. I lower the volume on the speaker and let my mind wander and speak.

As I just finished writing the other daynode, I walked outside for a while. It has been a tiring day, taxing on my body and my mind. The events of the night before still hasn't left my body yet and don't think will help heal open wounds. Even at this point, my mind still isn't clear as the alcohol still has to completely leave my body and the feeling on my left wrist and cheek has to still come back. At least I had fun.

The night is beautiful, as the sky is clear and the stars are out in full force. Its not a warm evening but not a cool evening as well. I could detect the freshness of the west wind as I stared out at the sky. Sometimes I look up and wonder whether the person I was meant to be with was looking at the same star at the same time. Sort of cheesy I guess. With my luck, it will wind up being another man. I put on my glasses and head back onto the computer.

I woke up earlier than I expected this morning. I guess I set the alarm clock an hour earlier by accident so instead of going back to sleep, I showered. It's nice to shower in the morning, especially if you still smell like alcohol in the morning. I scrub hard, and brush my teeth even harder. My skin rubbed raw and my gums almost bleeding, I ate my breakfast and saw the day grow progressively brighter. I'm never awake this early so I never knew how the day really looked for the longest time. I access my ability to drive and I was cool, even though it seemed like my body was fighting indigestion the whole day.

I reach Ikea only to find there is no staff parking. They make us walk to the farther parking lots simply because they think that more customers will come. I didn't mind, at least for today. I'll send my complaints to the union tomorrow.

For the first time in about 5 months, I opened. The day seemed progressively longer and seemed like forever until I got off work. My heel was hurting from my steel toe shoes. But as soon as I thought about the pain, I was off work and heading home.

Me and my sister head over to a nearby Vietnamese restaurants to eat some pork chops and spring rolls. Damn good stuff.

Finally, I finish making my new cd filled with SES, Baby VOX and FinKL. Haha. I've sunk to a brand new low. I head over to the gym. MrFurious meets me there and we work out. Then again, back to the arcade. He says that some girl was looking at me play DDR. Seems simple enough but enough to inflate my ego. She was sort of cute but young thats all. Now I'm home.

I go back outside and close my eyes. I let my senses touch the world, let it feel the change in temperature in the surroundings. Let nature be my guide. Slowly, I fall into a meditative state. I hear the wind chime tinkling with the wind, while being able to see the curtain wrinkle with the slight touch of the breeze. I reach out and touch the window, and could almost feel the misty image of my hand come out onto the glass. I open my eyes, only to fit the image with the reality. I get up, and walk back inside.

Now I'm heading over to play some Brood War. Yet, my mind is with yesterday. How much things have changed. How much people have moved on. How much they have grown into adults. How some people then are still the same now. I believe the correct term would be to say that the more things change, the more they stay the same. I think back to Sandy, my ex-girlfriend and my lady friend's best friend (the one I got drinks with the night before). I think back to everything we've been through and know that I haven't thought about her with this much depth for the longest time. I resist the urge to cry, and once again, I close my eyes and let my fingers do the talking. With Dreams Come True playing in my winamp, I clench my hand into a fist. Its time for me to comtemplate once again on why I can't grow up.

Carry me away to a far away land, where dreams exist to please you and your dreams are reality. Let me drift with the most wonderful breeze while drifting in the deepest blue sea. I am a sakura petal. I drift from the trees into the middle of the ocean with the northern wind. Slowly, like a feather, I drop onto the water's surface. I feel the coldness of the water and eventually, feel the water overtaking me. I fall deeper into the water. Finally, I'm in the darkness once again...where I belong..

Today was something of a special day: my girlfriend's 19th birthday. I deliver pizzas for a living, so I don't exactly have copious amounts of money to throw around, but I felt that I should at least do something for her. Jewelry was right out and so were clothes- too expensive. The only thing that came to mind, on short notice, was the one thing that almost anyone can appreciate: food. And not just any food, either, Japanese food, her favorite. There's a little hole-in-the-wall place just a block from Cafe Coco, where we usually hang out, and their California Rolls are pretty damn good (though, we both agreed that putting wasabi in the rolls themselves might have been a bit much, but they did taste damn good!). It wasn't much, but it was all I could do with such meager means- it was both good and bad fortune that I was able to get off work so early, so that I could share her special day with her. If I'd stayed at work longer, I could have made more money from deliveries, but I would have had less time to spend with her and the day would have turned out far less interesting, I believe.

We adjourned back to Coco for a while, to read, write and relax for a bit and collect our thoughts about what we could do with no money and no motivation. We both wanted to do something, but what that something proved fairly elusive. Instead, we resigned ourselves to yet another same-ol' night of CocoNut life. She's leaving to go to college quite some distance away soon, which is ultimately good for her, I think, but since she's leaving, our time together grows shorter with every passing day. We've gotten into a habit, kinda, of loaning books to each other. She's the one who turned me on to Neal Stephenson and William Gibson and I'm trying to turn her on to Robert Heinlein. Today, when I picked her up, she handed me Gibson's "Neuromancer", which I've just started reading and already find thoroughly enjoyable just three chapters into it. She's still reading Heinlein's "To Sail Beyond the Sunset", going on the third week now (fourth?)- college life/work has whittled her personal life down to nearly nothing these days, so reading for pure personal enjoyment is something of a feat for her.

About an hour or so after dinner, some friends stopped at our table and one of them, Ben, announced that his violin had finally been repaired. He invited us into the parking lot and listen to him play it some, which we gladly did. My girlfriend plays the flute with some degree of accomplishment and got to talking with Ben about music when, all of a sudden, Ben suggested going to Dragon Park and the two of them playing their instruments under the lights, in the dark of night, which sounded like a fun way to finish her birthday out. Another friend of ours, Bethany, joined us and we all four of us took up a small plot of land at the park in preparation for an evening with classical music. Mozart, Berliose, Bach... minor snippets of each of those composers and other stuff that I couldn't place while I read the book that had been loaned to me, reclining against one of the spines on the ceramic dragon, which Dragon Park is known for. I burned through those chapters like I was a match and the pages had been doused with gasoline- flip, flip, flip. The stuff is damn good.

A short while later, we tired of doing our own things and settled into conversation. Topics ranged from sweetly romantic to absurdly vulgar, but all of it was fun and lighthearted.

That big day, the day she finally checks out of Nashville for the last time, still hangs over both our heads. What will we do? What will become of our relationship? What will we decide? I know that I love her- maybe not in love, but I do love her. I know that I really enjoy being in her company, more so than many other people in my life. I know that I will miss her and that even now, when I'm thinking about her, I wish she was close by to talk with or simply share the still of night in solitude. More than a mere friend, she's fast becoming a companion to me, which is a station that I reserve for very special people, people I can stand for more than ten minutes. What will tomorrow bring?


The last night was horrible.

What I did? Well, I converted the last remaining part of YiffCam to be mod_perl-efficient: The "graffiti area" now not only uses mod_perl more efficiently (eliminates awkward SSI-based configuration), but it also uses RDBMS to store the graffiti lines! Complete rewrite.

Also, I moved YiffCam to my CVS tree.

A word of advice:

Kids, if you're going to move something from RCS to CVS, please make sure the following things:

  1. Make sure latest revision of every file is checked in.
  2. Make sure every file is not locked.
  3. Make sure you have backups of the tree before you enter it.
  4. Make sure it's not 3 o'clock in the morning.

Fortunately I had the third thing checked. =)

Other stuff that happened yesterday: Nothing Much, I met a fox briefly, headache, and stuff like that.



Head hurts... Well, I did some modifications to the YiffCam web page. Now it has a background too...

Should boot to windoze and play some game. I'll do that as soon as I get properly motivated.

Or maybe I should play U7/Exult.

Or maybe I should try to become a M-noder without NFN.


Fixed code stuff. Misunderstood The Idea Of NFN (Oh, I thought it meant *long* writeups, not "lots of small writeups". =) Communicated with a fox.


I ran out of votes.

With 105 daily votes, that's pretty damn hard. First time I've done that for a looooong time. It didn't even happen in That Day.

(/me hates votedumping. Kids, there's still zillions of GTKYNs to throw your downvotes into...)

Oo, less than 10 wus 'til M-Noderhood... Time for Purification from Drivel?

Then again, I don't have much in Below Zero Rep that would be total crap. In fact, I'm amazed that some got downvoted...

Other day logs o' mine...

(...To be continued...)

Noded recently & today by y.t.: Information Society GOST fork overhead DeCSS Jori Olkkinen Uuno Turhapuro Uuno Turhapuro Muuttaa Maalle

Updated: DayMetaNoder Zed

0628 EST

It's my second sunrise in one very long waking day. This time yesterday found me on the phone with knarphie planning out naughty good things to come, sprinkled with a few much needed moments of talking recent issues out calmly. The past few weeks have found us both to be emotional messes of sorts at incompatible times. Well, that and I haven't allowed myself to reach out to many people and ask for help if I've needed it. I haven't even allowed myself to help myself. The usual self-destructive patterns emerge: hole myself up in my apartment, minor discussions with acquaintances I've barely allowed friendships to form with, and mostly avoidance of the beacons I know I can reach out to in my life. But they're just gonna tell me the things I don't want to hear. They're gonna tell me that I'm capable. They're gonna tell me that I'm unique, and passionate, and lucky, and wonderful, and that they'll do anything they can to help, I just have to be proactive in getting my ass in gear. They're gonna tell me the good things that are supposed to boost my ego, and give me self-confidence, and remind me that I've been surviving away from the nest (which doesn't exist anymore, mind you) for over 2 years now and that I'm fortunate to be so self-aware and that I have a lot cut out for me.

Well folks, it's been a really really long time since I've believed this all about me. It's been a really really long time since I've trusted myself and been amazingly productive and successful and worked at even 75% of my potential. I put on a good face, yes. I'm a horrible optimist. I'm even looking at being homeless as being an adventure, of sorts. Keep myself on the go, won't be able to trap myself anywhere. Juices flowing, life is supposed to be invigorating. I'm so fucking scared. I don't even have a job yet, and that's my fault too.

I've had safety nets the past 5 years: The emotional caretaker of an ex-boyfriend/best friend, who thankfully can put aside our "healing from breakup" issues and listen to me if I really need him to. But it's really hard learning how to heal myself again. The job that wouldn't quit -- I was one of their top brains. They fired me with 2 months severance last January because only because I was late every day for 2.5 years, hired me back in March as a temp for more money and I got to set my own hours. They wanted to rehire me for a different position, but the CEO said it was against company policy. January found me out the door again, and this time I know it was for real. So, to anybody or anywhere I go after these, I'm going to have to work hard.

I hate to admit it, though. I guess I've tried to work hard on the relationship front. I guess that means I can probably work hard on the job front, too, eh? And I guess that means there's still that potential for success, eh?


Sleepiness returning to my eyes, but, an item of importance. Part of what kept me awake was watching 28 Days. There's a history of alcohol, drug, and gambling addiction in my family. I've had my share of sexual abuse. Seen emotional and physical abuse. I don't deny I'm prone, and that movie had me on the defensive all the way through. Crying, crying so hard because I know how important it is to ask for help. Crying because I never feel like it is okay to ask for help. I've dug this hole myself I can get myself out of it. I pack my bags, I carry them. And I sure as hell pack them heavy, anyone who's ever picked em up can tell you.

Fine. They're my bags. I know I'm not to be expecting a porter to come by and whisk them away for me. But I guess it wouldn't hurt to hand you one of the straps on my duffel bag, eh? It's the hardest thing in the world for a fiercely independent broken girl to admit she doesn't have to do it all alone.

I'm no 12-stepper, but I'm admitting I'm powerless and that my immediate life feels incredibly unmanagable. Now how the hell do I actually *ask* for help?

Time to attempt sleep again. Though, at this point, I wish I knew exactly where my 48 hour waking mark was. :)

I include below some things that part of my brain wants to build nodes for. I have decided that the nodegel doesn't need such rude intrusions, and so I write them here.

So I realized today that I don't despise Brad Pitt.
This came as something of a shock to me. I'd really disliked him for quite some time, since Thelma and Louise, in fact. I didn't dislike him nearly as intensely as I dislike Richard Gere, for example, but it was the same general form of dislike, the kind that men often have for male, "hunky" film actors whom women tend to fawn over and tend to accept film roles that accentuate their hunkiness.

I should note here that I am not an unmanly man. I'm a reasonably large guy, I enjoy violent sports, I can grow a great beard when the need arises (I am goateed at the moment), and I've managed to father a child while within the bonds of a happy and monogamous marriage.

But I was having a conversation with my brother about Fight Club, which I'd recently caught on cable. "I was surprised," I said, "it was pretty good for a Brad Pitt vehicle."
----Keith replied, "I know what you mean. But he was good in Seven."
----I thought about this, and said, "Yeah, that's true. And he was really good in 12 Monkeys. And did you ever see A River Runs Through It?"

Things continued on that way. I came to the inevitable conclusion that 'ol Brad has not really taken lots of roles in lame movies in order to become adored, in the manner of shameless Richard Gere (what IS the deal with that guy anyway?). He has taken some, of course, but he hasn't made a career out of them. He seems to take riskier parts that, presumably, he enjoys. I can groove to that.

BTW, A River Runs Through It is both a tremendous movie
and short story. I recommend the film highly if you are, as I am,
a major fan of Tom Skerrit's work (look for him in the film version of M*A*S*H). It pained me
deeply to see that man hawking Aleve on TV, but I guess you have to
pay the bills. People will miss him when he's gone.

KFC Requiem and Sundry
I drove past a KFC yesterday and noticed a sign fluttering in the breeze which appeared to say "Join Our Death." It actually said, "Join Our Team," but you have to wonder which neurons of my brain decided to misfire at that moment.

Later in the afternoon, I was walking with my daughter in a supermarket parking lot, her in the carriage (or "buggy" for you in parts of the western US) and I strolling behind. The sky was clouding over what had been a warm spring day, but the gentle, cool breeze was compensation enough. As the wind rose, I began to sense a slight saltiness, a sea-tang that those raised near the ocean can sometimes smell even when they live far inland. I smiled, and then a fat, ugly woman with a cigarette unattractively suspended in her mouth walked by and belched a cloud of tobacco smoke. Frankly, I might not have marked either her obesity or her fundamental ugliness had she not been smoking in this horrid way.

As a fine wine may help to bring out the better qualities of a sumptuous meal, so too did this cigarette serve to enhance the unpleasant qualities of this woman. Perhaps this is insensitive of me, but there you have it.

On the plus side, the store had RC Cola
on sale for $0.69 for a two liter bottle. They also chose to
double my coupons, good for $0.55 on the purchase of two two liter bottles. This means I was able to buy
copious amounts of Royal Crown Cola for the low, low price of only $0.14 per bottle.
So life is good after all.

And so ends the flotsam and jetsam of my mind…for today.

My node yesterday was so successful, that I will pen down what happens in my life today.

Not much. I'm at work, trying to fit in an interview with Camilla from Wallflower webcam, but it's just not time enough.

I think I'm going into a depression. Exam pressure, the ex-factor, and work pressure is hard. But I'll survive. Any good advice on surviving would be greatly appreciated!

Update: The interview has taken place, ms. Wallflower is happy with it and has approved of it. She is a really nice girl. Charming as hell. The interview is here:

Sorry, Norwegian text only...

I think day logs for me will be a rarity as most of my days are void of anything exciting right now! I'm working on this though and hope to offer much in the future.

Today, I was supposed to take my mum out to this demolition thing on the housing estate where I work. They were knocking down four tower blocks which are no longer fit for folk to reside in. (This is a case for many, many tower blocks in the UK now - poor 1960s architecture, but for another write up)

We would do the mother/daughter thing and mum would get to meet my colleagues. We set off in my car and arrived shortly after 12pm. I rang my friend to see where she was standing for the 'big' event. The conversation went thus:

Me: "I'm here, where are you?"
Donna: "In the car on my way home. Why?"
Me: "Have they done it?!"
Donna: "Don't tell me you've only just arrived and you missed it?!!"
Me & Donna - fits of giggles.

We were 9 minutes late. It's been on the tv, which was probably the best view for it. Mum and I sought solace in the fact that it was raining anyway and being wet doesn't suit us. Instead we went shopping.

Purchases: Thank You For Having Me - a book by Maureen Lipman. I need a cheer and feel this will do it.
Buena Vista Social Club cd. Just because I felt I was missing out by not having it. It's excellent.
Frank Sinatra 'best of' cd. Having watched the Top Ten Easy Listening crooners on Channel 4 last night, I remembered how much I like him. It's also admitting that I shouldn't be embarrassed about the music I like. It's my choice, fuck what anyone thinks!

Today has been a good day so far, I hope it stays like that. :)

Ahh the weekend, how sweet it is, unfortunatly mine was wasted with college orientation and finishing my senior project.

Due tommorow and I only have the rough draft done, oh well I can see it now "Teach, I didn't get my paper done because I noded all weekend. Wait, your not writing down an F are you... NOOOO." Well better get crackin...

I'm probaly going to update this later, so please dont downvote because its so short.

Stayed at home the entire day. Further excavation on the earthworks for my retaining wall. Shipment arrived from performancebike.com. Pulled old 1.4 inch Tom Slick's off Shadowfax (commuter bike) and replaced with german-manufactured 1.0in Michelin Grand Prix. These will take a running pressure of 125psi. The result is terrifying. Bike appears to be mounted on circular blades of rapier-thickness black steel. Took long walk with friend's dog and saw amazing part of the neighborhood that I've never seen before. It was so clear that I could see the container ship cranes at the Port of Los Angeles. The Hollywood sign and Griffith Observatory looked like bad scale models, the clarity was so great. Low pressure system (rising air) combined with Santa Ana aridity created unlimited visibility. No moisture to condense out of convective updraft. Made dog fetch uphill for an hour to exhaust him. Snow on Mt. Wilson.

The question has to be asked....guys, if you could suck your own cock..would you? Would you swallow? Women, if you could lick your own pussy...would you?

Strange thoughts for such a beautiful Sunday, but there they are. I guess they all came from my thinking about an old friend I once had named Steve. He had a dick so long that he could suck on it himself. Steve was also a crank addict, and his family life was about as dysfunctional as they come. He was raised by an alcoholic drug addict mom who had a succession of biker boyfriend/husbands, most of whom beat her and her kids, at the very least. There was sexual abuse, incest and lots and lots of violence and drug abuse. Steve grew up and created a home like the one he grew up in. He married a woman from a background much like his. They created their own little haven of domestic violence, sexual abuse, and drug and alcohol abuse. His kids grew up to have their own kids at 14, marry abusive men, and get arrested for small time crimes.

Steve was my friend. Steve had a heart so big that it made me cry sometimes. Steve was a major fuck-up, in part because he didn't know any better, and partly because Steve just plain had bad luck. Steve worked harder than anyone I'd ever met, yet he couldnt keep food on the table or pay the bills. I'd go to Steve's house in the winter, and the house would be cold because Steve didnt get enough wood to heat the house all winter. The kids would be eating ketchup on noodles because Steve forgot to work that week. Steve did terrible things to his family, but somehow, he was always forgiven, because of his background, and because of his utterly charming ways, when he wanted to be charming. Steve was a survivor.

But Steve didn't survive. One night, after a fight with his wife, Steve jumped in his car and said he was going to the bar to get cigarettes. Anyone who's ever lived in an alcoholic family knows that going to the bar to get cigarettes is code for going to go get drunk out of my mind. He got about a half mile from his house and was going too fast for a turn. He smashed into a tree, and as my friend who broke the news to me the next day said "Ol shuffle didn't make it". His funeral was an incredible spectacle of dysfunction, uncontrolled emotional outbursts and raw grief. Steve is dead, but his legacy lives on, and that thought makes me want to cry.

Steve could suck his own dick, and he did. In the end, it didnt make a damn bit of difference.

Gonna lay low today....

I think it's time to go into my yearly social cocoon, I'm fucking around with my current movie script. Need to be done in the next month, but I've already started a adaptation of the Canterbury Tales. The cast is willing, but I can't coordinate with the co-writer for shit. We never see eye to eye, and he's got problems thinking outside of the box. We'll see, studio time today top around 10, a little music should help me. The outlets always do. Spurs won yesterday, that's a good thing. B-ball on the agenda today, it's going to whip my ass.

It's April 22, and I still haven't done my taxes. I started them a few nights ago, but became totally confused trying to deal with deducting the interest on my student loans while living below the poverty line. I hate dealing with the tax system; at my income, it's a waste of my time, and the time of everyone who has to deal with my return, which means that the government is spending taxpayer money on acknowledging the fact that they owe me money and getting it back to me. I thought about not filing, but I need the money enough to jump through the hoop.

Hell mutha-fuckin' yeah!

Things are GOOD! Last night, yours truly got deflowered! Probably not in the usual sense, I mean c'mon people, I've been married. I'm talkin' about the fact that I finally got to see Rocky Horror Picture Show. Everytime I've wanted to see that damn thing live, something has come up. And that doesn't seem possible seeing as how many people I know have been cast members. Hell, Eileen was Magenta for how long and she was my roommate for over a year. But anyway, I owe this experience to Lord Bear. Thanks, darlin. Psst! My hair smells like your shampoo....and I'm a puma...ROAR!

Also, I have VERY GOOD seats to the Depeche Mode concert (we got them three days ahead of time....hehehehehehee) July 5th, and two adorable escorts. Satyr being one, and his 19 year old hottie STRAIGHT brother Gary......beautiful Italian men.

I have this Saturday coming up, off, so I guess I need to corral some camping gear together. FAST. Digging through my Book of Shadows for just the right ceremonies......did I mention my five year handfast will be up next week?....talk about taking a load off.

Talked to my mom, and I'm going to see her and my dad the end of May. MY COUSIN"S PREGANANT!....first born of the fourth generation of Chapman women...I feel very strange about this. I'm also going to help Griffin move as well as get my bed......he did call me the other day. Shit, I think we go about five days and then we have to exchange notes. WEIRD! Sounds like someone's getting attached....but that can't be allowed to happen. You see, I am a liability. That's why I'm sticking close to my friends. They know where I'm coming from and what I'm made of, and there is less chance of my hurting them if I'm just straight forward. But the conversation went something like this:

"So, you seeing anybody? Scared any lesbians lately?"
"No, I haven't scared any lesbians."
"But are you seeing anybody?"
"ANYWAY. You seein' anyone? How are your little girls?"
"They're girls. They don't put out. Same old, same old. I ran into Marcus and told him I was going to try to stay with you for a few weeks. He acted really weird about that."
"So that explains why he stopped emailing so suddenly. Great. I swear, you two...."
"No. I think he understands.....You know, I miss you."
"Yeah right. Getting lonely, Ry?"

That's a whole bag of worms that is just weird. When Cammie met him, she said, "My God, he even moves his head like you do." See and there's the problem. Plus we never started on a romantic note. We started on something born of confusion, need and pain. And just the novelty of having the same birthday. And confusion. Did I mention confusion? He keeps mentioning how he thinks we'll end up together over the long haul. I think he's crackers! Really, I know him too well. I told him on the drive to meet my parents, "This is all well and good, but when it comes down to it, WHEN and IF I ever settle down, that boy'd better think I hung the goddamn sun and moon. I don't think you'd ever be capable of feeling that way."

What else is really good? Satyr and I are getting on very well. He is my housewife, and I bring home the bacon. I told you I was capable of that. And there's little competition, because I like 'em with long hair, and he likes 'em with short. Kismet, I'm telling you.

People keep giving me dates and times to configure. Astrology Charts. I outta charge for this, but I don't yet.

After what I wrote yesterday, I kind of want to make it a point to soften it. I don't feel like a liar. I know I'm not one. I guess it's nice that everyone's doing their own thing, I just hate being colored the bad guy, when I've tried so hard to be good. I'm just trying to do the right thing, even if it looks all juxtaposed at the moment. Have a little faith in my trying to calm the storm. I'm good like that.

Written shit tons over the last week, and I'm proud of some of it. Maybe I'll post it tomorrow.......who knows? Anyway...got a cook-out to go to.

Woke today to overcast skies and an ache in my body that didn’t seem to have any focus. I'm no longer that ill, and wondered why exactly I felt the way I did. Of course, this weekend hasn't been that kind to me.

Things have gotten a bit better since my last daylog. This is not to say that things are hunky dory, but I suppose my mood has improved, as has my relationship with Beautiful Girl. Sincerest thanks to matilda and witchiepoo for their thoughtful /msgs; they really did help. /me loves messages.

I slept late again, having breakfast after lunch had passed me by. The work I was to get done this weekend has rendered itself impossible to complete due to my own ineptitude, so I am left to wring my hands and pace and wait for the weekend to end so I can grovel at the feet of several for forgiveness. Can't wait...

The sun did try a bit today. I watched an eagle's head form in the clouds as they passed my window, only to fold back and curl in on itself again. The smell of rain was a welcome change, and I can say that the beast with the great white stomach has finally left the North Country.

It's dark now, and I should be writing or reading or fulfilling obligations, etc. etc. Instead I have been staring out the window and thinking about what's been happening to me. I'm not gonna go into it, as there's no real point in discussing it here. Things fall apart, things get better. I'm channeling all the Zen detachment I posses to keep it together.

This weekend was cool. CR, my brother, and I went to an astronomy stargazing thing on saturday night, but it was getting cold so we only stayed until around 10-11pm. I heard there was some meteor shower, but I only saw one, so I didn't want to stick around for it if it was going to be that slow. I found out later that it was going to peak around 2-5am. Ann couldn't make it because she had a research paper to finish, and Sara was in the keys for the weekend with some honors students doing some community service activities.

Today Ann and CR came over and we went rollerblading for an hour. I haven't gone for that long before, and while my feet hurt a little bit, it wasn't all that bad. I was actually doing better than they were as far as getting tired. I guess I've been exercising more lately than they have though. It was cool though. After that, we rested for a while then went and blew all of our exercise on eating at Wendys :) Oh well, it all balances out...

I have been ignoring my E2 noding responsibilities lately, for a couple of reasons:
  • I got in a car wreck, and have been working with the insurance people, wrecker services, rental car people, and body shops for the past week.
  • The last few times I got on E2 the lags were terrible. Granted, I only have a 56K connection, but it was terrible. I'm glad to see that nate has put something up in News For Noders, hopefully this will help alleviate the problem.
  • I've been spending alot of time with Bethany (YAAAY!!)
  • I guess since there really isn't anything all that positive going on (and I doubt that you want to hear me bitch alot), I'll write about Bethany.
    Basically, I've been friends with her for almost a year and a half, and she just recently broke up with her boyfriend (who she had been with as along as I've known her). I also have grown rather fond of her (not because of her breakup, just because she's... special).
    All in all, I have about a 0% chance of getting together with her, I just know.
    Is it a bad sign when the girl you like tells you about the only guy she's kissed since she broke up with her boyfriend, and she said "He's got a huge dick.... huge... just... wow... giant."
    Hell yes, it's a bad thing, and an even worse feeling.

    It's OK, though, I know it's just a silly little crush I've gotten myself into, the problem is getting out of it.

    I've really been getting into Last Night a DJ Saved My Life, it's an anthology of the DJ, all about it's beginnings, and all the musical genres that have led to the scenes now (rave, jungle, drum and bass).
    I'm learning alot, which means that as soon as I can resume a semi-normal noding schedule I'll start a long string of DJ related informative nodes that will (by my standards, probably) kick ass, so be on the lookout.
    I have also added a little special something to my homenode, something I like to call "The Great Nodeshell C! Give-Away". The basis of this little contest is that there are too many empty nodeshells out there in the E2 wilderness, and that someone should collectively do something about it (I have a list myself that I'm working on), and I want to give people some incentive to fill in the nodeshells.
    To read all about The Great Nodeshell C! Give-Away" go to my homenode.
I needed to get away this weekend...

Ignoring all the sound advice that my inner voice spewed out to me, I packed my bags Friday morning, and on a spur-of-the-moment decision, hopped on a bus to Richmond to surprise my best friend at school. Four hours later, I found myself sitting at a strange bus station waiting for a person that I'd never met before to come pick me up, and talking to some old crazy guy. Just as I was about to give up hope, Brian showed up with his friend Nick, and we proceeded to drive an hour or so to Longwood, located in good ol' Farmville, Virginia.

I think the best part of the whole weekend was seeing my friend Cheli's face when I got there. Honestly, I've never seen someone's face light up so quickly. She showed me around the campus, I got to check in with my really good friend Billy, who also goes there, and then we went to her friend's room to drink.

Woke up pretty late on Saturday to go to brunch, and then went on an adventure. Billy, Cheli, and I trooped down to "the tower", an old run-down warehouse that everyone goes to smoke in. After climbing through broken windows and piles of rubble, we finally settled in a small opening covered over in vines, and proceeded to smoke a few joints and attempt to drag our asses back out the way we came. After we successfully untangled ourselves from the ruins, we walked to an old industrial area that had huge concrete blocks semi-spaced out on the ground, forming a kind-of maze. I managed to get really lost, and it didn't help that the acoustics of the place made their voices seem as if they were coming from all directions (or maybe it was just all the pot I smoked)... for a few minutes, I truly felt as if I were in The Labyrinth or something.

After that, we managed to walk back to the dorms, and spaced out for the rest of the afternoon... when night fell, we all piled into a bunch of cars, and drove out to a nearby lake to look at the stars... I think I've seriously forgotten just how bright they can be when there's no city lights around for miles and miles to distract one's view of them. Really peaceful and really beautiful...

This morning I spent brooding... for reasons that probably shouldn't even bother me, but do anyway. I'm too fucking sensitive sometimes. Brian offered to drive me back to Richmond to catch my bus this afternoon, and on arrival, we found out that I had about 3 hours to kill-- so Cheli, Brian, and I walked around a cute little area of Richmond to pass the time. It wasn't so bad, and I even managed to cheer up a little. After awhile, we drove back to the bus station, I bid them goodbye, and started my frustratingly long trip back to Baltimore (seriously, I could have made that in... 2, 3 hours if I had my car, instead of the 5 I had to sit through). Not a bad weekend, but not the greatest either. Next time, they're coming here so I don't feel so out of place.

A memory was returned to me recently. I remembered being in my old bedroom that I shared with my sister in my grandmother's house. I can see the entire room, how it looked, my stuffed toys arranged about me in the bed, my sister's side with her one doll (and later nothing) and giggling and whispering with her at night. My mother would call up to us to settle down, go to sleep and finally she would come upstairs to get us calmed down.

The most interesting part of this memory is how different it is from my later memories. There's no outright terror attached. The memory feels attached to my life, it doesn't have any real emotional pull to it. My later memories of my mother, heavily climbing the stairs feel as though evil itself was coming for my soul. My heart would pound in trepidation as she got closer and closer to me.

These later memories were held by one or more of my alters; the early memory - by my core self.

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