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a while ago i had a strange thought regarding onomatopoeia.
along the lines of "why does it differ in different languages?"
my own private research lead me to references on linguistics,
where it was claimed that language is comprised of components.

those being:
phonology - a sound/sign system; what noises are used.
morphology - rules for sound sequencing; ngifxupj --how do you pronounce that?
semantics - but what does it mean?
lexicon - a dictionary of the words you know
syntax - you all use computers, you know what this is

...and my question was answered thus:

each language has its own set of sounds (phonology), some have more some have less, some are just different.
not all sounds occur in every language.
picture the german general dude from all those old ww2 movies,
"ve vill crush your pitiful army!"
or the japanese business man,
"he-ro, ee i rike your jacketto"
these are examples of languages other than english which dont include all the english sounds.
before you start feeling superior, for your superior language, try saying oeuf (egg in french), ryuuu (dragon in japanese) or pretty much anything in russian.
each language has different rules for combining sounds (morphology) also,
no doubt you tried to say the above examples, may have even uttered some noise.
if you dont speak french or japanese, chances are, you where wrong.
you dont know each languages morphology.
its nothing personal, i dont speak french, and can barely get by in japanese.
and so....
apply this to what you know about onomatopoeia,
and you get different words for different languages.

case closed.

why is the phonology different?
how did it evolve through the ages to produce such marked diferences
consider the differences between tonal & non-tonal languages......

research continues.

The story that must be told.

"Where does the nickname 'Grum', come from?" I get asked this question a lot, especially since my email, license plate and phone number contain the word. In fact, when I was still living with my parents (until I went to university), any time anyone would call my house for me, it was for "Grum", not "Graham". My parents and sister don't call me "Grum", my fiancee won't have anything to do with the nickname, and my co-workers don't know about it, but anyone from Toronto that knows me, calls me by that name. And here is why...

I like to tell people that it is just a shortened version of "Graham", that if you say my name fast enough, it sounds like "Grum". But that's not the truth. When I was in grade 9, the big movie at the time was "Rambo: First Blood Part II". So everyone was talking about Rambo. Rambo this, Rambo that. Eventually someone said, "Hey, let's call you 'Grambo'."

Cool. I've got a rather masculine nickname (which was also ironic as I was a 5'something, 100lbs, 14 year-old geek at the time).

Then fate stepped in. My friend (who goes by the handle Shylock) said "Grambo doesn't sound right. Rambo's really tough, and Graham's a wimp. He's more like Gumby than Rambo." And so everyone started to call my "Grumby" instead.

This was definitely going to hurt my image with the ladies. Or at least, fortify the image I already had.

Thankfully, the nickname was eventually shortened to "Grum" (but not before being sidetracked to "Grumbachev", "Grumbatollah", and "Grumacalifragilisticexpialidocious")

And so I am still called Grum to this very day.

Okay, so it wasn't a story that had to be told. But at least I didn't make it a whole node of its own...

I'm undecided as to whether I'll be at Fanime Con (north of the San Jose airport in Santa Clara). But I might be. I wonder if any other E2ers are going? The dirt is all at www.fanime.com ... we'll see. It's not that much fun to go to an anime con without like-minded friends. Oh, I saw In the Mood for Love tonight. It was strange. (Yeah, duh, I know.) Maggie Cheung was luminous--people always say that about certain stars, and now I know what they mean.

Every day that passes, I wonder more and more how everything will never be the same. I guess, like anything else, I start with what happened at midnight. Hmm. Ring. The phone rings again. Like many other nights, I lose sleep on the phone. Many might think that I should just hang up, but my life has gotten to the point that I almost depend on this source of female company, even though its just my auditory sense that hears them here. I never knew why something so simple made my heart not jump, not beat faster, but almost seem lifeless, as it stood in time. How sad.

I try to hang up, but I can't. I'm too tired to take my headset off my cell phone, nor am I strong enough to let go of the pathetic pleasure that I get from this endeavor. I didn't know how it was all going down but I knew that this addiction was stronger than drugs, even stronger than my urge to slug the next person who irritated me.

Morning glimmers through the window once again. MrFurious asks me what I want. I say, I want an ending. Everybody wants that. An ending, opposed to a beginning. I never was much for change, but I knew it was necessary or life would be boring. I always changed, and so did everything around me. But for once, I felt like a kid again. I didn't want to conform to the rules of the world. I want the world to rotate around me. I wanted to sleep. To descend into darkness, and never see the light. While the darkness was cold, it never made me blind.

I close my eyes. I see the back of my eyelids and fall into a deep slumber. Instinctively, I clutched my blanket and placed it around me tightly, like how I would hold someone I loved close to me. I knew that it either would be a cold night, or I needed something to hold onto while I slept.

Ring. My alarm rings. I lunge over and reset my alarm to ring in half an hour. I'm sweating profusely. I reek. Excellent way to start the day. Then I realize that someone is using my computer. I hear typing, breathing, the very squeaking of the black computer chair. I try to curse but by the time I bring the necessary words to my mouth, my sister has left and my alarm is going off already. I roll off. I iron my shirt. Then I realize that I'm ironing on the carpet and I just burned a piece of it onto my work uniform. I'll be walking around as the major source of static today.

I drive over to work. I see a very attractive young asian woman in the car beside me. She winks. I wink back. She turns right. I go straight. I feel happy. Then I feel stupid. I just want to cry now.

Work is work. Broken glass. A woman had a seizure. I didn't know what to do. I've had a seizure myself but it's different when someone else is having it. I want to help, but I can't. Then my pretty lady friend came. She clasps her arms around mine. I smell her scent, and I'm lost in oblivion. Limbo. Then I realize that I'm almost drooling. Then I'm off work. I give my co-worker a ride home. But she seemed like she was more interested in work than me. Strike two. How lovely.

Home. If home is where the heart is, I rather be heartless. It doesnt' feel like home. At least not now. Nag nag. Thats all it is. Even the take out food doesn't take good. MrFurious comes over with our friend Pils. Like any other weekend, we hang out at the arcade, then on to slurpees then bring Pils home. On the way, my female friend calls me.

She asks to talk to me about something urgent. I never understood the fact that when someone is asking to talk to you and you can't talk to them right then and there, they'll get mad. Like you have to conform to their will. Nonchalantly, I brush her off. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do. Until she called the second time. Lovely. Home I go. Then I'm here.

Again, I'm here seeking answers for questions asked by trillions before me. I seek an ending, an ending to my pain and my loneliness. I wonder whether a new beginning is really what I seek. As MrFurious said, a beginning is another beginning's end. While true, I rather see it as an ending being an opportunity for a new beginning. Maybe I'm right. Maybe he's right. Maybe we're both right. But I wonder whether I can handle any more beginnings. If I seek an ending, I don't want it replaced with another one. My brain hurts already. And I did that this time without sticking a cue tip in it.
Wassabi. In attempt to capture the mood of this fine(?) morning I shall abuse another portion of the node-gel.

Firstly, the achievements(if i may call them that).

I finished the seventh book of the wheel of time series. I bow down to Robert Jordan and then bow down to him again (in adition to the 60 bucks i already paid for his books). A crown of swords (the book) was pretty captivating (just like the other six) in it's own way. Jordan is being somewhat cheap in his handling of the series. Somewhere I read that he's going to milk it till the audience gives up. I can apreciate that. After all it's what puts food on his table. On the other hand, as a reader it's sorta frustruating to know that we might never know what happens to Rand al'Thor et al. Also i gained a new found respect (well respect is really a strong word. understanding perhaps) for the people that watch soaps. 'Cause really. The wheel of time is nothing more then a giant fantasy soap opera - and Jordan is treating it that way. Same thing with Star Trek, Earth: The Final Conflict. And Dark Angel is just T&A. Jehehe. Anyhow I tried to stay away from the eighth book (Path of Daggers). But I just couldn't stay away. My Life is Empty. So I went to Chapters and purchased it today, for $10.66 cdn. I'm addicted. But like we all know, the Wheel weaves, and the wheel wills. (I almost used it once in place of C'est la vie or shit happens. But i caught myself in time, thank goodness).

My other underachievements. The weird i-m-pissing-every-10-minutes thing went away. The doc didn't know what it was. He performed some unpleasant tests. Shrugged, and gave me antibiotics to eat for two weeks. Been 5 days and it's gone. I dont know what it was or how it got there but it's gone and I'm happy.
My wrists are starting to sorta hurt. I wonder whether it's the RSI and arthritis kicking in, or it's the improper handling of the dumbells in the gym. Shrug. Interestingly my good friend Ilia (wait let me laugh - hahaha) saw me at the gym last friday. He was all "ooh" and "ahh" about how much muscle I gained. I don't know whether it's true (coz he bullshits way to much) but i'll file it under "achievement" anyway.

The fun part. Failures. I'm officially beyond burned out now. I haven't had more then 3 days off for about 3 years now. All I can think about now is sitting somewhere sippin' tea and spitting at the ceiling (that's a russian idiom meaning "slackin off" basically..). Work used to be a fun place. Now i'm sorta demoralized, sick and tired. I wanna go home thought crosses my mind at 9:10am. Ugh. What can I say. Today's study session was less then satisfactory - i should've done twice what i did.

Day by day im getting more afraid of people. There are two ways a conversation with a new person begins. No, three. 1) I feel an equal to this person (rarely). Normal conversation between adults ensues. 2) I feel inferior to the person. Slow carefully guarded conversation of limited scope. 3) A girl. Completely withdrawn and stonefaced MrFurious mumbles something incoherently while trying not to make a fool out of himself, failing miserably. It's sick. It's wrong. It's disgusting. And what do i do? I hide. I don't think I am a coward. I mean people are scared of things right? Being scared is what made my ancestors run from the big bad wolf, and ultimately through the natural selection my parents were born, and then me. Therefore logic dictates that my genes after so many generations contain somewhat successfull amount of fear. But dammit, why among other things (like seafood! are you sure it's dead?...) I'm afraid of women? Ok afraid is too strong. Warry. I tried couple of times, and both plunged me into months of madness and despair.
Hello, I love you, want you tell me your name

Some of my friends (you know who you are !!) are sliding into the depth of depression. Of course some have been there for a while. I try to do something, but it's hard to act happy when I myself i somewhat in distress. Of course, on the other hand all this misery is sorta funny. I dont know why, but it is. I'll even chuckle - heheh. I found an ultimate cure for all of our problems. It's my birthday in a couple of weeks so we are going to have a pre birthday bash type thing. Everyone gets drunk, and spits out their problems with a bits of digested food. This friday. I'll tell you how it goes.

Whoa this has been sorta long. Why did you read it anyhow? :) I gotta say thanks though. Domo arigato gozaimasu.
This morning I took my boyfriend to the airport. I don't know when I will see him again, and it was so sad watching him go. I was brave and I made myself not cry. Brave girls don't cry you know.

As I was walking back towards my car in the parking lot of the airport, I was staring at the dark red "no parking" curb, and the realization that he will most likely be the one I marry and have kids with brought a smile to my face.

You see, we're one of those internet couples, and we live 2000 miles away from each other. What I have grown to feel for him however, transcends the distance that seperates us. He makes me smile. He brings out the best in me. One day, I know we will be together again.

To use the old cliche, "This is just one of those days."
I have had an infatuation with this girl for some time. This past weekend, I went to see her perform in the play Godspell. The idea was that maybe we could go out after the play. Unfortunately for me, she went out with her family and her fellow cast members. I talked to her again today. The first words out of her mouth are about some other guy. She starts asking me if I saw him, do I know him, what do I think of him. Basically, this day has been one swift kick in the balls.
“Mommy, I haffa shek my emu.” In other words, “My turn to wiggle my fingers at the keyboard”. I laugh every time she tells me that. She repeats all the things I say. I must be saying asshole a lot lately because today she called me one. I wanted to laugh and cry and each feeling vied for elbowroom. It is strange how something can be so hilarious with out being funny at all. How can a small beautiful child be so hateful one second then suddenly curl up and bat her long lashes and say, “I am sowwy you don’t feel good well Mommy.” Then she will dance, kicking her legs out in graceful arches, leading with her left hip, swooping her arms like a reed in the wind. She flashes me her teeth, purses her lips and turns into a monster chasing the cat, “Come here butter cat!”

Miles toddles in, face all red and round, squinting his blue eyes, wet diamonds leaking from his eye. Soon enough he is chasing rainbows, finding bits of paper to stick in his mouth, turning on the television and then turning it up loud, getting scared by the noises and crying again. I see him lurch about, his cheeks jiggling at each step, pants straining around his zipper busting pudge, a child so round and stocky strangers make comments – “He is all cheeks!” they tell me, like I have never seen him before. He looks like a parade float when I play airplane with him, which is not as often as I did with his sister because he is so heavy.

Sometimes my lower back feels like it has come unhinged. I imagine that it will swing out like a coffee maker in the place where the grounds go. I could swing it out, reattach the hinge, tweak a few things, maybe sweep, then flip it back in place and be back in business. Perhaps then laundry will get really fun and the Zen of dishwashing will become apparent to me.

It is beginning to snow a blanket of white flakes that fill the air and disappear in the grass. They seem suicidal almost, bent on their own destruction, like they can’t float down fast enough. The sky is dark. I am seeing through milk-bleak, monotone clouds with gravel and tears and needles. Me, feeling like its throat might rip open and ghastly sounds spill out. Small sharp things everywhere will need to be picked up.

I am on my period. There is a red-hot-red churning at the center of all things. It affects the other people in my household. My husband says he gets sympathy cramps. Then we rag together. Lucky me. Means I can not just sit around introspective like and not think of others for a second a minute an hour a whole day even. Means I get stretched thinner and pulled further than I would enjoy even on good day.

I only wish that my children were easier to deal with lately - less insistent, less messy, more inclined to nap.

I wish the sun to shine. I feel like I need a shower, a nap or a glass of water. Which will it be? Don’t want to overwhelm anything (or myself). Yay! A sliver of sunshine! Maybe I will get all three. Wait, here comes the milk again. Maybe I get none.

I wish I had my lavender patch back – it was so glorious and purple, a heaven scented hedge with lazy bees and lounging cats. Now the new owners use that space to park one of their many rusty vehicles. There is an old camper right on top of my herb garden. I imagine the cilantro straining up through an axle, lavender spiking through spokes, an old tire snaked with nasturtium, and a toothless hag sees bee balm fireworks against the bumper, “Hey! That’s purty!”

But chances are they do not see any beauty there at all. They are keeping goats on the lawn. Giant burdock plants block the front entrance. They have yellow brown zigzag afghans hanging in the windows and one horizontal blind that has been pulled into a murderous “V” shape, like someone tried to look out but was pulled back in.

We have toyed with the idea of taking Katie there some day to show her where she was born. At this point I am thinking the murderous “V” might make the wrong impression.

I looked up today to realize it has been over a month since the night we kissed.

I have been waiting. I have been quiet, withdrawn, uncertain. I have been pining for over a month.

You were my wonder. You were my wonder in so many ways.

I spent my first night last night, my first night out without real thoughts of you, focusing on the actual people I was with and the things we were doing.

I’m on my way out, I guess. I think.

I’d forgotten how hard it is to see the one you love casually. In classes, in the hallway. What I deemed a school girl crush from the start has regressed to the point where it really is one in both circumstance and mood.

I had forgotten the dark quiet places of the heart, where we go from time to time to recover and be reborn.

I’ve found ways to paint your face without even remembering what you look like.

My housemate grimaced at me the other day when I was still talking about you. “It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just that ...“ She avoided my glance as she said it “... I don’t think he’s interested. So he sucks.”

I’d never contemplated that possibility. You were so genuine. I still can’t believe you lied. I still can’t be mad, because no matter how many times I do try to tell myself that you lied I don’t believe it. But it’d almost be easier at this point.

It’s much much much easier to pretend all this pining is for nothing, because it gives my life back to me instead of letting me wait the two weeks more until goodbye.

I’m not a mess, I tell myself sometimes.

I’m just starting to live again.

If I wrote you
you would know me
you would not write me again. *

Today is a bizarre day.

Yes, one of those.

I'll better start in chronological order. It'll be easier.

Yesterday (technically today at sometime about 01:30) we went with some friends to that disco. You know, that one we've been zillions of times and never scored a nickel. First, we've had to cope with the daylight savings and all those girlies paying us the slightest attention. Well, we were about to leave when a trio of those little female demons actually sidestepped to let us pass unhindered, sure sympthom that they had in fact seen us as autonomous living beings, opposed to mere moving automatons not deserving of them. That caused unprecedented joy and managed to steal a smile from my face. That seemed to get to those girlies, because as I passed by one of them, she managed to squarely pat me in the butt, supposedly to get my attention or perhaps to reward me with their valuable friendship. Naturally and stupidly, I didn't take unfair advantage of the situation, as usual when girls blissfully ignore useless social conventions and dive straight at me. I'll try to improve on this severe shortcoming of mine someday. What is a self-righteous man supposed to do when some unknown woman pats him in the butt? I'll write a node on this particular subject soon.
Ah, flirting, thou art unknown.

In ten days time I am starting as a professor at a Computer Science college near you(tm). It'll be my first experience of this kind. I still haven't written any teaching material yet. Don't worry, it's all in my head. This is kinda scary, as I've just left college myself (just two months ago). I was the one always bitching about the boring professors and their ilk, about their awful teaching and stuff. Now I'll be facing 30 of those so-called students, ready to spring into berserk at the simplest slip of my mind.
My mom has a saying: "Didn't you want soup? Here you have two bowls!"

To get ready for my CS classes I've compiled and installed on my MacOS X box the following software: the latest httpd version of Apache and the latest version of MySQL. MySql bitched at me and had to modify the source code directly to get rid of a compilation error, nothing serious really, just a runaway misaligned cast.
Ah, the soft pleasures of coding and system administration...

And last but not least, today's the first day I write something in Everything.
This is in fact a most bizarre day, indeed.

So, I wake up around noon today, after having being thouroughly impressed by yet another great Granola Funk Express concert.
Today has been a pretty basic Sunday, very run-of-the-mill today, nothing too interesting. I drove my mom to work, went shopping for a bike today.
Bike shopping his harder than I thought it would be. I really want a bike, to ride around and get in shape and all that, but it's tough to buy one for some reason.
I really like this Schwinn Karate, but I was kind of hoping to get a used bike, to save some money, but I really like this bike, and there aren't many decent commuter bikes that are used for sale right now.

Oh well, life slides by until the weekend is over, then it stumbles and trips over it's shoelaces.
I usually don't update daylogs, even if something cosiderably exciting happens after I've finished a log, but tonight.... tonight is different.

This evening I went to visit a certain ex-girlfriend, who I hadn't seen or spoken to in a while (we've had our share of bumps in the road). During the course of the conversation I'd be telling her something and she would say "I know."
I didn't know what to think, I didn't know how she would know, since we hadn't spoken in so long.
After being confused and writing it off as something she must have heard "through the grapevine", I said "How do you know?".

Her reply shocked me.
She said "Oh, I read about it on everything".
I'd told her about E2 a while ago, when she asked where I got some really sick jokes and I said something to the extent of "This fucking awesome site, Everything2.com".

So, someone out there has been reading my daylogs.

Someone I care about has been reading my daylogs.

Yhea, I know people read them, they get voted up, they've been read.
What really touches me is that someone is out there reading my daylogs, just mine for the sole reason that they are mine.

I know what you're thinking: "Jesus, man, don't get a big head about it, you're still pathetic."

We'll if that's what you're thinking, don't you dare try to rain on my mini-parade.

I've found that often times, I'm touched the most by the smallest things, while dynamic events fail to move me.
I think this is a good example of this, I mean, it isn't really a big deal, it's just a nice thought... someone out there reading what I write, because I wrote it and they care.

Leacey, if you read this, THANK YOU .

Note: This w/u was originally an independent node, but it has been determined to be a GTKY node and, therefore, better suited for the daylog.


There's this fantasy I have wherein I'm loved by a wonderful woman, happy, successful, alive and capable of reproducing when the time is right. It's just a dream, though, and as with all dreams, it's about time I wake up.

As much as I would like to think that getting my every wish or having my dreams come true will happen eventually, the truth of the matter is that some people never realize their dreams and I'm probably one of 'em. Sure, I'm a nice guy and relatively harmless, but it ain't gonna happen to me- if it hasn't happened by now, it probably never will. I'm about to turn 28, single, well-adjusted, wise... I always thought people like me would be married at 23 and wildly successful. Hell, when I meet new people who know nothing about me, they intimate surprise at my self-description of "terminally single." My friends all tell me that "it'll happen, Jay... when it's time." Ya know what? Fuck a bunch o' that. They're trying to allay their own fears. It's not me they're trying to soothe (I'm pretty used to this fact- no, I'm not happy about it, but I'm used to it); they look at me and see what they are to become (it's invariably people in their late teens or early twenties who keep telling me the lie that I'm not going to die alone).

Do I like being single? Hell, no. I miss having someone in my bed when I wake up in the morning like you wouldn't believe! I miss feeling soft skin next to mine as I drift off to sleep. I miss warm breath on the back of my neck as my dreams take me away to far-off places. I miss kind smiles as the morning sun caresses my eyelids. I miss gentle laughter that stirs my soul to mirth. I miss a soft, lilting voice that echoes in my ears when we're apart... GOD do I miss it. Most of all, I miss love. I miss being able to express it to another person, I miss receiving it when my heart desperately needs it, I miss feeling it when the rest of my life is in turmoil, so that I can use love as my anchor.

Being single is shit compared to being in love. Spring can lick my lily-white nutsack, for all I care. I'm single and available- ask me how long it's been since I've been laid. Ask me how long it's been since I've felt loved. You'd think it would change, somehow, right? Going out, staying relatively warm-hearted to nearly everyone that crosses my path, being friendly... zip. All the women I've met that're worth having are either already with someone else or they're so damn far away that I can't get to them without robbing a bank or two.

When I see happy, young couples kissing with all their hearts at the Cafe Coco or in the park, I won't try to stop them- oh, no. I'll even smile at them warmly, as I always do. But deep, deep inside, where people don't know it can happen within me, I'm going to be hating their guts and wishing their lips would fall off. I'm going to secretly hate every lovey-dovey schmuck in existence until Spring is good and fucking gone.

I'm staring at your smile. Head lifted back, with teeth bared.... I see your joy and your purity, and feel myself falling.

I'm scared leetle one. I hardly know you. There are aspects of you I don't understand. You are in love with a man I've never met. We only met in person nine days ago, but the attraction was electric. I'm not supposed to fall like this. I'm not supposed to get so wrapped up in you so fast. I'm not supposed to ... to.... I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I only know what's in my heart. My head is twisted in knots but my heart... my heart knows what it wants.

Have you ever been told that being with you was wrong?

Morally and ethically wrong.

I was told this last night to my face after weeks of vague lies and uncomfortable silences.
I was so stunned by the statement that I was left numb.

"So what do you mean wrong?" I croak out.
"It's kinda' like the two little voices in your head, the angel and the devil...I dunno', it's just wrong."

What the fuck kind of answer is that? What exactly is that supposed to mean? Am I just supposed to nod and smile and say okay, you warped and demented sack of heartless shit, you couldn't tell me this before? You couldn't have opened your mouth and said, "Oh, and by the way, I have no interest in you, I never did, I never will, you're wasting your time, I'm an empty shell emitting a non-stop, coast to coast broadcast of bullshit twenty four hours a day 7 days a week. Can't we just be friends?"

NO! Sorry slick, you fucked up.

You pride yourself on your honesty and maturity, but I find myself having to pry the truth out of you with one foot planted on your chest and my arms up to the elbows down your throat. Fuck that. Whatever made me think that there was anything worth knowing inside you. If everything that's happened so far is any indication it's all bullshit anyway. You make everything so complicated, because deep down, you don't actually feel anything, you don't have anything of worth to say. So fuck you. Fuck your bullshit interest in my work, fuck that strong silent type crap, that gentle ear that listens to everything I have to say...
Where were you when I needed you? You shut down and shut me out. How can I trust your motives for anything after the things that I've heard from people. Your friends tried to warn me.
"We know how he treats women..." they said, ominous, but not very illuminating.
I had no delusions that you cared about me, I thought that you at least thought enough of me to let me know whatever vague semblence relationship we had was over. That you respected me enough to tell me instead of making excuses. I feel hurt, betrayed, but not completely suprised.

And another thing buddy, I am NOT in love with you. I liked you and apparently you took that to mean that I would follow your ass to the ends of the earth. At least that's what I've been told.

You may take my venom as a sign that I truly am in love with you. Let me explain it so that there is no confusion. I liked you. You interested and entertained me. You turned out to be using the same ol' "game" you've used on other girls. This pisses me off. The fact that I was dumb enough to think that we could have had anything together, pisses me off. The fact that you're so very "honest", but you were just giving me excuses, pisses me off. I got the wool pulled over my eyes yet again by some asshole guy who can't just say what's on his mind and be done with it. It has to be a game. Too bad you're not that good at playing it. I hope you're happy alone. I hope that you stay that way for a while. I would have treated you like a prince, I could've fallen for you. (dodged a bullet there!)

I will probably regret saying all of this after I've posted it. I'm gonna' go for it. Eternal damnation, here I come.

I apologize to those who read this disjointed pile of crap. I needed to get some things off of my chest.

Sometimes you go to fencing competitions.  Other times, you just survive them.

My first mistake was not going to sleep the night before the event.  We had to leave at 5:15 AM to get to Purdue on time, so I just decided to stay up through the night.  Novice mistake, and I feel like an idiot for doing it.

As a result, by the time we got there I was already dead tired.

I completely fumbled through the pool round, doing well worse than I should have and winning a few of my bouts by sheer luck.  I ended up 3-2.  One guy completely outclassed me, but I had absolutely no reason to lose my other bout.

So, I was seeded way worse than I should have.  I won my first direct elimination bout easily, but because of my shitty seeding I ended up fencing the best guy in the competition in the second round.  My body decided to (finally) wake up and I gave him a good match, but in the end I lost 15-10.  Way better than I expected to do against him, but I should have lasted at least two more rounds.

I ended up finishing 13th out of 30, when I probably should have ended up between 3rd and 8th.

But, there's another tournament next weekend, so I will be able to avenge my poor showing.

He's being so stoic about my leaving. He doesn't care, he doesn't want me, he doesn't need me. That's why he hasn't left my side in two days and he keeps ghosting around my house like he's lost.....

After I got my scarab tattoo last night, (I'll write that story later, I want to write this now that he's dozing off.), Thor, Onya, and Griffin followed me home for some sake and tarot. Yeah, I really dig my crew, I'm going to miss 'em. Thor eventually went home, and Onya snagged my couch. Griffin and I needed to sit up for a bit and talk, so we sat in my room on top of the mess I just got packed.

So for two weeks, er sumthin', he's been telling me to go "get yourself a girl", and all of this perverted stuff that I need to do when I move. And he says he won't miss me, he's coming up in two weeks. He says he'll be busy with trying to get up North himself. He says these things like I need reassuring or something.

I am not the one who needs reassurance....obviously.

Griffin then proceeds to tell me Thor is really disappointed that we never decided to make this official. That Thor is almost upset at us for not pulling it together. I don't get it. And then he tells me "Well, it's probably a good thing we never did end up calling this anything but friendship. I mean, it would never work. Even with your coming up and my coming down. One of us would end up getting really hurt, and I don't want to hurt you."
I had to break in at this point, "I know that, honey, this was not meant to go in that direction. I mean, c'mon, I'm leaving in teo days. I'm leaving. Not you."
"I just don't want you to be upset. Any kind of long distance relationship wouldn't work."
"Um. It's never really been called a relationship. I mean, if it hasn't been by now, it never will be, you know? C'mon, person mentions the word girlfriend or boyfriend and one of us blushes while the other one finds something else interesting to talk about really quickly. It's stupid, this has never bothered me, and will you quit worrying that you're gonna hurt me? You can't hurt me."

So we were agreed, we're damn good friends. We have a lot of other things on our minds...but I know he's just waiting for me to burst into tears.

"Kir, are you crying?", he asked so softly after he jerked awake from sleep.
"No, I just sniffed. It's dusty in here."
"Oh, I thought I heard you....you okay?",
"Yep"....and he falls asleep again with his beak tucked into my neck.

Yeah, I love him. Of course I do. I just don't know what kind it is and really I don't have the time to figure that out right now. And he's not going to hurt me. He says I've got balls 'cause I'm a "Hot-stuff-eatin'-tattooed-woman", and again I tell him flattery will get him everywhere. We're tight, but romantically, I haven't let him in much. I mean, I'm not anywhere near a position to be hurt by anyone. I can't be hurt. I JUST WON"T LET THEM.

It's been nice, this being smothered and paid attention to my last few days in town. And I'm giving him the 'puter....shhhh...don't tell him! I've decided it'll be a good idea in the long run. Scott picked it out, Rob set it up, K. crashed it a few times after putting Linux on it, now Griffin can bury it when he's done with it. I thinks that's pure hardware poetry, myself.

But I ain't going to cry....at least not until I'm on the road and he can't see the tears. I'm brave, goddamnit...... <

And he may have found a way to get My Dad's Bed up to Baltimore! Yah! My hero!

Strange memories of this weekend on this Sunday night. I haven’t been on e2 since Thursday afternoon; for posterity I will attempt to record everything that happened this weekend, regardless of the current tapioca-like state of my brain.

Thurday evening Beautiful Girl makes the drive north to come and see me. As soon as I see her face I know something is wrong. She spun the car on the way up; not too bad—no damage to the car—but she is a little shook up and her back and neck have nearly seized with tension. I kiss her face and realize how much I missed her.

Friday morning came and went as the two of us slept soundly wrapped around each other and under a huge mound of blankets. After we woke to face the day it was decided that we should drive to Lake Placid for the hell of it as we should really be doing things of this sort while we are still young and stupid. The drive there is plagued by unplowed roads and sketchy directions, but we get there okay and have a fine afternoon running in and out of shops without buying anything more expensive than a hot chocolate. After a cheap dinner—not an easy thing to find in Lake Placid‚ we enjoy a round of bowling. I bowl a respectable 145, Beautiful Girl does poorly on account of the ball being too heavy.

The weather had been steadily getting worse as the day wore on, and we seriously toyed with the idea of getting a room for the night; partially due to the weather and partially due to the thrill of a different roof over our heads and cable TV. After learning what a motel room goes for these days (fsucking seventy-eight dollars!), we decide to try for home. The roads are awful, and an hour trip takes over twice as long. We get return home very late and exhausted. I make love to Beautiful Girl in the early morning as Mir ever-so-gently smashes into Earth's atmosphere and burns.

Saturday was a sleepy day. After taking care of a few errands in the morning, I returned home to find my love watching MST3k in my robe. Finished the program, and then crawled back into bed to sleep away the afternoon. Such a wonderful feeling to disregard everything and snooze instead.

It is a horrible thing to wake beside a pretty woman to the sound of an alarm and realize that you'll soon be sleeping alone again. Beautiful girl rose—naked and sleepy-eyed—to dress and kiss me goodbye before leaving to go home. I fell back into bed and dreamed exceedingly odd snatches of dreams that I cannot recall anymore. Today I ran thought more errands, including four hours of interviewing applicants for employment. The cold slap of reality stings as I run through my day, and I find myself now with little more than my autonomic functions active and no pretty woman to curl up with.

This daylog is a debacle. I should know better than to write when I'm like this.

Wow.. I created this node just for fun last night. Little did I know then that today would become one of the pinnacle days of my life.

I took my brother to the mall this afternoon so he could pick up some gifts for some schoolmates at Spencers. I got back and was starting to clean my apartment, but instead just sort of lied in bed and thought about Sara.

I got up and then spent a bunch of time reading my old daylogs, recalling my adventures with Sara. I read about how we met, I annotated some of my daylogs for special things about those days that I remember now which I didn't write then. I read through some of my old emails to her, some of the files that I wrote about her, and the letter I wrote her on the gift I sent her on valentine's day.

Then around 5:30pm today, she logs on AIM and I start talking with her. We talked for quite a while about random stuff, nothing too personal other than some complements. Somewhere around 9:30, some other friends all got in a chat room together, including Sara. Just to be funny, I wrote her a little personal instant message saying "Hiya", even though I'd been talking to her since 5:30 and we were both in the chat room. I asked her how she was doing, almost as if I hadn't already been talking to her for 4 hours :) I was just kidding around.

Then she asked me THE question. You can see I tried to dodge it, but she was insistent, and the pressure on my soul was building like a dam about to burst.

Sara: whatcha thinking about?
Me: nothing in particular, just wanted to say hi :-)
Sara: :-)
Sara: sure you dont want to tell me?
So I told her.

I tested the waters to make sure she was ready to hear all I had to say, then when I knew the coast was clear, I let it all loose. She cried. I cried. She laughed. I laughed. Then in the middle of it all, AOL's AIM service decided to go offline.

I tried to reconnect for about 3 minutes. The longest 3 minutes of my life. I finally gave up and got the courage to call her on the phone. We talked for about an hour on the phone. It was tense. When I first answered, I could hear her crying a bit. It was too awkward to talk about those things while on the phone, so we got talking about other things. Then when AIM came back, we talked for a little while longer and finally decided to get back to typing because we were both more comfortable with that for what we were talking about before.

We continued talking until almost 12:50am. We talked for over 7 hours! I reassured her my feelings, and she reassured me hers. I feel SO great having finally releived all of my thoughts about her and having her accept them so well. I can't even begin to imagine how I'm going to feel this week. We talked about so many things which I thought would always be off-limits due to the conditions of our relationship. She assured all of my doubts were mistaken and all of my fears were unfounded.

I have been liberated. I am free and happy; I have poured out my entire soul to have it taken up and put back together by a very special lady who now keeps it safe from dispair.

I am now only one step away from liberating the last three little words which will make it all complete. And I have plans for how to break those words to her. And I'm not telling you! :P

Goodnight everyone. Rest well. Dream well.

Sat. afternoon, evening, whatever, M. called. Ugh. This whole day has felt like a nightmare.

He ranted about my wu about Tom. His jealousy drove him to rage and frustration. I was glad, delighted to hear him so angry at me. I raged right back at him. Then I hung up on him at some point. I soon realized that I had been crying and he might come over, so I called him back in order to prevent that. He answered the phone, and he didn't sound irrational, so I decided he hadn't been planning on doing that, so I hung up on him again.

I was wrong. He showed up, just in time for me to rage at him again, which I did.

My basic point was, first, after I broke up with him the first time, and he refused to take me back, all this time he has never taken any responsibility for even looking at what was going on with me at that point in time. I have always taken all (100%) of the responsibility for the breakup. This past week, he finally acknowledged his part in the breakup, how many years later? It doesn't really matter, I couldn't handle a relationship at the time. But it unleashed my anger and rage at him for giving up, for leaving me and my children alone at a time when I/we really needed him in my/our life. What if he had kept trying? What if I had had him with me a few more months? What if I am wrong, what if I could have dealt with it?

I had another point too, point two, point to, his next girlfriend after me. He started dating her and moved in with her very quickly after we broke up. She was wrong wrong wrong wrong for him, but he pretended she was fine. And then he proceeded to stay with her for tenyears. I had crappy boyfriends too, but I gave them up. The longest was the last one, 2 1/2 years, and he had more M. qualities than any of the other ones. I kept looking for another M. in my life. I never stopped loving M. and knowing he was truly the one. But M. gave up on me, and never looked back.

I can't even begin to express my rage and anger and hatred for the level of betrayal I feel for this third person in my life.

I have now developed a new philosophy of life. 1. There is no such thing as real "romantic" love. 2. There is no such thing as "real" friendship.
I went out with a friend whom spent the night at my house. We drove around for hours just talking. We ended up going to Hastings (a book/music/software/EVERYTHING) store and looked around at certain items.

We decided upon visiting different churches and finding out what each one was about. There are many churches around where I live and it would be interesting to see the differences among them all.

Went to a friends house and hung outside her house talking about many things from school to bands. She had a dog named Wizard that no one wanted to pet because of his eye. I pet him and vowed to come to her house one day with a pair of gloves on (because he smells) and pet him for a long time. My friends laughed at me for showing such compassion.

Upon discussion with her she did not remember things that we had talked about before. As did another friend of mine in which a game was played where a point system was devised per question. She received a score of -15 and I received a score of 90. I realized that few people even listen to what I say, whom I call friends hardly even pay attention to me. And it is understandable only because I can be hard to follow at times. I tend to jump days and timelines with what I say and I ramble and mumble at times. I decided I don't really care to talk to people who don't listen.

I am waiting for him to call as well. He hasn't called since Friday and I should not be on the internet because then I won't get his call. I thought to myself, "Who cares?"

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