I massacred the afternoon to the sound of rain drumming against parked cars.

Rather than give a synopsis of my week, I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.


Bingo:


Dobie pups:


The monkey pup:

Puppy piles:


Skeletor:

Devil cats (actually very sweet, for cats):


I went to a comic shop for the first time in years while I was in Madison. I ended up spending almost $60 on graphic novels. Now that I've read them, I can feel the old addiction returning, but I don't think it's worth it.

I also saw this manhole cover in Madison, on the way to the Old Fashioned from Laura W.'s place.


Chicago is beautiful when you're burnt out from studying. Of course, the most distinguishing thing about our skyline is the Sears Tower, which is why it shows up all the fucking time in my pictures.



This seen on the ride home. Worth pulling over for.



On the road with me:

I dropped my bike at the shop for a tune-up, and it may need a new chain and cassette as well since it's skipping in the back. I need to clean up my hidey-hole.

I took two or three naps today. I lost count. Can't seem to focus. I really want to eat sushi tonight. I'm debating getting take-out and taking it out somewhere else. I dunno.

Anyway, walking home in the drizzle this afternoon, I felt very positive. About what, I'm not sure. I'm feeling a lot of stress about my ABO exam, but Dana already told me I'll ace it. I'm sure I'll do fine, as long as I can keep up my studying. I'm trying to keep a positive attitude, as I slipped into a negative place for a long time and didn't even realize it until a few things brought it to my attention in the last few months.

Too tired...

...to write much at the moment. Went to Madison. Came back. Studied all day.

I've got plenty to complain about, and have had plenty of Big Thoughts. And some good pictures. All of which must wait until my life gives me a chance to relax.

Despite being a corporate marketing tool, this is an example of why I suddenly think William Shatner is awesome. The other two reasons are his Has Been record and the Scofflaws song about him. Star Trek can suck a turd.

"Did you just zap Daddy?"
"No, no, no, n- I did zap your daddy."

Certain spatial regions of my brain are suffering neurotransmitter depletion.

I studied all day today and my mind is fried. Of course, "Studied all day" really means "got out of bed at 11:00, out the door by 1:00, downtown by 2:00, maybe 2:30, then studied five hours minus water breaks and a 20 minute refreshment break and of course a 30 minute nap."

I was heading downtown and waiting at Division/Ashland when I turn around to look at the car behind me, and Maritza was driving it. I hadn't seen her since we finished dental school three years ago. So she pulled over and we chatted for a little bit. It was a pleasant surprise. You don't get that driving around. Plus it was a kick-ass gorgeous day.

I'm heading over to Les's place to play with the dobie pups in a bit. Tomorrow I hit Madison for a day or two.

And listen, about those bitter songs you sing: they're not helping anything; they won't make you strong.

Yesterday I sat in the sun in my living room and read Girlfriend in a Coma. I heartily recommend it to emo kids or anyone into post-apocalyptic existentialism.

WNUR was skeletal last night. All the vinyl's been packed up for the move.

I think I may be getting a little nostalgic for the old studios now that their time is at an end. I saw this on the wall by the production studio:

Since I was taking pictures, I thought I'd document this piece. It was a rather crude rip-off of Tank Girl a fan of the show made. I laminated it to the wall with packing tape years ago and there's no way it's coming off intact.

The pillar of doom:






I was at school all day today, getting shit done. As you can see, I got a lot done.

Tomorrow I can study more. I think I'm going to sneak into Kaplan's study area downtown since it's quiet and conducive to getting shit done.

Oh, yeah.

I forgot to mention it's spring break and I've got a ton of work to do.

Destiny is what we work toward. The future doesn't exist yet. Fate is for losers.

There was an office sale notice sent to our department. This is the first paragraph:

Large town with diverse patient base and a wide range of large retail stores (Best Buy, Sears, Home Depot, Office Max, etc.)

Oooh! Let me the first to make on offer! Is there any place without those types of stores close by? Even bumblefuck towns aren't far off from that. Maybe if there was a Wal-Mart, I'd be more interested.

The last few days have been fucking insane. Well, not really, but busy. I think I just studied on Wednesday, then came home and made myself a shitload of food and forced myself to eat it all...

Ryan K.'s Annual St. Patty's Party was Thursday. He cooked up a ton of food.

After a shitload of conversation, and a ton of corned beef and cabbage, and potatoes, too, of course, and six or seven drinks, I hauled my ass home for a little sleep. I hadn't seen Ryan or Les in a long time, and it was good to hang out with them.

Of course, it can't be Irish(-American) without soda bread...

...or Guinness.

You can sequentially watch Les devour meat




And here's an unfortunately blurry picture of a Green Guinness Waterfall. (Best shot I had.)


Anyway, I felt mildly hungover all day yesterday, but things went well. I didn't start feeling normal until I'd wolfed down about three thousand calories or more. I told myself I was going to go to the Big D/Anti-Flag show, then come home, shower the stink off me, and sleep. Well, I did go to the show, and it was a blast. Big D played mostly ska songs off their new album, which I dig much more than their old stuff. We did a long-ass interview with them...it lasted almost all of Anti-Flag's set. Dave said it was fun, almost like a free-jazz interview style. Let's hear it for my lack of professionalism! Anyway, as soon as it was done, I ran up into the middle of the crowd for the last five Anti-Flag songs, and still got hot enough to have to take my shirt off for most of what was left.

I hit Delilah's on the way home to rinse the two MGDs I'd had during the interview out of my mouth. I don't know if it's a good or bad thing that I've started to become one of the guys hanging out by the front door. I didn't leave until one o'clock, when I decided that my increasing exhaustion would counteract any sobering up I had yet to do. Came home, crashed, slept 10-11 hours, and crawled out of bed around 1:00pm.

I borrowed Coupland's Girlfriend In a Coma from Ryan. He told me he didn't really like it. I read several chapters in it this morning while summoning the will to leave the bed. There were several great lines, and overall the book is pretty good so far.

Destiny is what we work toward. The future doesn't exist yet. Fate is for losers.

Daylight savings is fucking killing me.

I'm listening to the latest record from Set Your Goals. It has absolutely no defining characteristics, except that the band's named after a Civ album that came out twelve years ago. I literally can't tell the songs apart, and they have no individual sound. Bleh. The only reason I'm listening is because they're opening the Anti-Flag/Big D show Friday. Actually, I'm not even listening to it anymore.

I woke up at four in the fucking morning today. I didn't have to get up until six. My stomach was bothering me. Even after it went away, I just tossed and turned. I've got a bug up my ass about something. Don't really know what, though.

I got to school before the fucking sun came up today. At least it was warm. I had a few extra minutes, so I stopped at the scenic overlook of Paulina and 290:


CDT fucking killed me Sunday. I lost track of time studying, and then fucking couldn't wake the fuck up Monday - yesterday. It's felt like fucking Friday all week, and it's only fucking Tuesday.

As I was getting ready to head out to the Pisces Party on Saturday, Barbara called me and asked if I would hang out with her friend's sister, who was in Chicago for the weekend. So I picked her up and we headed out to the party for a while before heading over to Delilah's for a few drinks and conversation. Sunday she and I went to Jak's Tap, which, while lame, has a pretty decent beer menu. It's no Hopleaf or Delilah's, but you can get pitchers of some damn good shit for a decent price. Anyway, new friend made, and she's thinking of moving to the friendly windy city. I'm a Chicago ambassador - of sorts.

I had dinner with Trish on Sunday. I told her I was pretty much ready to call things off with Laura G. - not because of any antipathy, but just due to a waning of interest. Not having heard from her in a week, I wasn't sure how she was feeling about the situation. Turns out she was thinking along the same lines, as she e-mailed me today to let me know. So that's actually something of a relief, as it saved me the stress of bringing it up. I was just going to the let the thing drop unless she got in touch with me.

I went for a bike ride in the warm weather last night - 56 Fahrenheit and wearing shorts and t-shirt? Damn straight! - and after picking up a pair of bike gloves and looking at MTB shoes and pedal clips, I ended up at Delilah's right about 9pm. I had Scottish pine ale, where they use pine needles instead of hops. It was fucking good. I had a shot and then moved onto the $1 Schlitz. Roundabout 9:30, I asked Foster if I could DJ off my MP3 player until Mike Miller and his Spanish DJ friends showed, and ended up playing songs for 30 minutes or so, then showing the Spaniards how to work shit. Ended up sitting and talking with some SHARP that had just transplanted from SoCal for a bit, and giving the nonviolence talk to this guy with missing teeth who admits to having plenty of violent run-ins with Nazi boneheads out west. Ended up getting home around midnight. Pretty fucking dumb when I've got to get up at 6am. Miller said he's going to put me on the schedule sometime for a punk/ska/whatever night.

The goddamn heat's still on at school. It was easily eighty fucking degrees in there. I was sweating my shit off. It sucked. Tomorrow should be 20 degrees or so cooler, thankfully. My thyroid's still upregulated.

I finally uploaded the pics I took in Florida the other week. This is me right after I ran over a quarter mile of beach from the hot tub to the Gulf of Mexico. It was cold. My balls were trying to climb back into my fucking kidneys.


Of course, the pool seemed very warm by comparison:

By the time I got back to the room, Tonya and her on-again-off-again beau Greg were abed...I think the expression on her face looks like something out of Calvin and Hobbes.


After sitting in the sun the next day, we headed to the airport and ended up waiting around a few hours. BORING. The floor space was plentiful.


No, we didn't coordinate shirts. Fuck off.


It's hard to believe it was snowing lightly a week ago. It was over 70 degrees today. Fucking Chicago, I love this shit.

Two or three drinks later, I'm sitting in her car drunkenly trying to explain my life situation.

I rode home in the sun this afternoon, wearing only a T-shirt. It was so fucking beautiful, I took a nap for an hour and headed down to the DMV to get my motorcycle permit. I aced the test, now all I have to do is learn to take the road test.

Kate came over last night and we hung around drinking beer and talking and listening to music until midnight, when we decided to head out to the Liar's Club for one drink. Two or three drinks later, I'm sitting in her car drunkenly trying to explain my life situation to her in the 10 minutes it takes to drive back to my house. Needless to say, I came home and crashed. It was good to see her, though; apart from the Lawrence Arms show we went to four months ago, I don't think I've hung out with her in a long time.

I may just stay in tonight and relax. Clean, read, rest. I need to package Dani's CDs for sending and get my ass to the post office by noon tomorrow to send it. Tomorrow's the Pisces Party, so I have a feeling I'll be tieing at least one on and consequently really should take it easy tonight and relax. My weekends are like work days sometimes, and vice versa.

I've had the worst kink in my back, and today it's been ridiculous. Maybe I should just fall asleep on the floor.

R-O-C-K Rock

I finished (re)reading Hairstyles of the Damned last Friday right as my flight pulled up to the gate. Perfect timing. One of my favorite sentences:

...soon enough we started kissing. Then she giggled and said, "Your name's not Darren, is it?" and I said, "No, it's Brian," and we both laughed and she wrote her name and number on the back of my hand, and then, like I said, I called her and got nervous and lied.

And then, ten pages later:

I felt my heart become small and shriveled like a baby bird left to burn alone out in the sun. I turned and stared at Gretchen who was blushing. She looked so fucking cute blushing it made me want to punch a wall.

I love that fucking book.

I'm sitting here listening to Bill Haley and burning CDs for Dani's birthday. It's hard for me to decide what music to give her these days...mostly because I can't remember what I've already made her a copy of. But I came up with a pretty good list of things she'd like, or should at least hear.

I met a friend at Handlebar last night on my way home, planning to have only one drink...three hours, four drinks, and several good conversations later, I came home and crashed. I've been so tired this week...no wonder it's been flying by.

Cool thing today - one of my patients that I was worried about having seriously bad iatrogenic sequelae came in with things looking perfect. Next time I do a procedure like this one I plan to follow up a little more closely for safety's sake. Dodged that bullet.

I was thinking, during one of my lightly working periods today, that I've been in a rather pessimistic mood for a while. As in months. Maybe not pessimistic, but definitely cynical and negative. No one really called me on it, but someone a few weeks ago called me on some of the secondary effects. Hopefully I can be more positive. I'm all about positivity, or at least would like to be. I'm not sure exactly what was stimulating the negativity - was it some subconscious need to push people away? Perhaps. Or maybe it was a way of compensating for feelings of inferiority. Also lame. Hopefully I can learn to avoid it. We'll see.

I feel positive right now. I hate those dark feelings, but sometimes they're just so easy and comfortable.

A lonely liver, suspended in liquid.

Q: How many Budweisers does it take to get stinking drunk?

A: I don't know. I had 9-10 Saturday night and wasn't close.

Q: How many Tripel Karmeliets does it take to get stinking drunk?

A: If I have one more I will be. The first one's made me about as buzzed as those Budweisers did.

Someone left a shitload of stuff in the basement of my building. Queen mattress and box spring, bicycle, styrofoam packing pads, etc. It was in the way of me getting my bike out this morning. I dragged the mattress and box spring out of the way, and as I was bringing my bike out, I tripped over the styrofoam and proceeded to purposefully smash the shit out of it with my work shoes.

Matt and John and I were discussing romantic movies today. Matt discriminates between romantic comedies and "chick flicks." Whatever works for him. Being quite emo myself, I have no problem with the concept of liking chick flicks. I'm watching Someone Like You. Ashley Judd is quite pretty.

I know this world is topsy-turvey. I know this world has lost its mind.

My sunburnt face is giving me that crinkly burning sensation everytime I express the song lyrics I'm singing. It's quite a pleasant distraction, oddly.

My bike ride this morning was wonderful.

I got home from the airport last night in a pithy mood...I didn't feel like doing anything. I'd been reading and listening to music for hours and hours already, and had had plenty to drink already that weekend. (Plus, I try to shy away from turning to alcohol for escapism.) I popped a benadryl and started watching an old Adam Sandler movie until I got too sleepy. This morning I at least woke up rejuvenated physically, but still felt quite blase.

I was laying out in the Florida sun yesterday, with a cold offshore wind blowing. Feeling almost cold, I got sunburnt. I regret nothing. I laid out in the solar warmth and listened to this steel-drummer the hotel had hired. Songs I remember: "Three Little Birds," "Monkey Man," "Jericho," "Don't Worry Be Happy," and "Margaritaville." I suppose the last two were pretty obvious choices, but to hear old calypso and reggae songs was not what I was expecting, and it was kind of pleasant as well. It was good to get away from this city for a few days, just to have the mental break. I didn't really get to rest much, and the courses were long and only a little informative, considering I've been getting into this mindset for a while.

I've been thinking and wondering how much of human social interaction is hardwired into us evolutionarily and how much physiological benefit is derived from it - consider also that psychology is just neurophysiology we don't understand yet, as one of my professors told me. I know I've said before that we're all social apes. I almost want to study primatology.

Bleh.

That is all.

This post is a sucky synopsis post, but I'm tired and dirty and a little drunk, so whatever.

Have you ever had one of those days where all you wanted to do was read further in the book you've been reading, but things kept getting in the way? I had one of those days. I got assigned a new patient this afternoon, and of course she needs a bunch of stuff done before I can even start treating her, stuff that should have been caught a while ago. And of course that added a few more hours to my day, taking records, running about trying to schedule other appointments for her with other people, and reviewing the records. Feh. Next week I'll start working up the case, which should at least be interesting to treat.

So that kept me at school until about 7pm or so, and after that I headed downtown to pick up a ticket to the late Naked Raygun show in April. I got a flat tire half a mile from my house, so I ended up walking the rest of the way. Of course, I'll be getting in late Sunday night and knew I wouldn't want to fix the damn flat then, so I did it tonight. I got home around 8, put away clean laundry, packed, then went to change my tube - I could clearly see where the tire and tube had been punctured, and they were pretty small, so who knows where the actual puncture took place. Regardless, I decided to clean my chain as well as fix my tire, and my hands - as well as certain spots on my shirt - were black by the time I was done. Trish let me know she was at Delilah's and implored me to join her, which I of course did, not having seen her in two months, and not having work tomorrow. I wish I had more time to spend with her since I don't see her enough, but it was still good.

I still haven't read any today - beyond a Punk Planet interview during my lecture this morning. Suck on some Life After God:

Our conversations are never easy, but as I - we - get older, we are all finding that our conversations must be spoken. A need burns inside us to share with others what we are feeling. Beyond a certain age, sincerity ceases to feel pornographic. It is as though the coolness that marked our youth is itself a type of retrovirus that can only leave you feeling empty. Full of holes.

.....

We will talk some more if it is a warm day and the city before us will glow gold, a dozen construction cranes transforming its profile almost by the hour. She will say, "Thousands of years ago, a person just assumed that life for their kids would be identical to the one that they led. Now you assume that life for the next generation - hell, life next week - is going to be shockingly different than life today. When did we start thinking this way? What did we invent? Was it the telephone? The car? Why did this happen? I know there's an answer somehwere."

.....

One of Kristy's bigger worries is that she'll continue her pattern of desiring only the unattainable and then one day, well, in her own words: "My ability to fall in love for real will just sort of atrophy and then I'll replace my apacity for love with sentimentality - you know - knitting bibs for my sister's kids; sobbing over puppies; going overboard at Christmas and wearing red and green dresses; vanity mirrors surrounded by inspirational decoupage plaques. Should this ever happen, Scout, please, please telephone the Symbionese Liberation Army and have them come and kidnap me."

.....

Some facts about me: I think I am a broken person. I seriously question the road my life has taken and I endlessly rehash the compromises I have made in my life. I have an unsecure and vaguely crappy job with an amoral corporation so that I don't have to worry about money. I put up with halfway relationships so as not to have to worry about loneliness. I have lost the ability to recapture the purer feelings of my younger years in exchange for a streamlined narrow-mindedness that I assumed would propel me to "the top." What a joke.

That's all you're going to get. I'm going to Florida for the weekend. I need to get away from here for a bit. Plus I get to sit through two days of practice-management seminars. Woo.

Sidekicks and scheduling confusion

There's a piece on sidekicks who are cooler than their heroes in the AVClub this week. It put a big smile on my face. Not a funny smile, just a happy smile.

I was at Delilah's for a few pints and some Johnny Cash tonight, and Eric told me it would be cool when Chuck and I DJ'd the Deal's afterparty this weekend. I was like, "What?" And I saw that Chuck and I are listed on the schedule for Saturday night. Normally not a problem; I could get someone to cover the radio show, but I'm going to be in Florida, and no one asked me...

OK, so I'm loving songs on the new Lifetime album now. "And now it's gone away for good. You fall in love; love has gone away." All it needs is more Dan Yemin yelling "Go!" in the background. And who taught Ari Katz to sing?

"And after that there's sleep."

I finished things today. I realized I didn't have any pressing work to do, and was thinking I could go home and not be wasting time, when I realized I could do board-review reading. So I did that for a while. It was making me sleepy.

The new Lifetime record is growing on me as I listen to it more.

More Doug Coupland - this is from a story about separation:

I told her that everybody feels lost when they're young.

But she says there's a difference. She tells me that at least when she was younger she felt lost in her own special way. Now she just feels lost like everyone else.

....

When I was younger I used to worry so much about being alone - of being unlovable or incapable of love. As the years went on, my worries changed. I worried that I had become incapable of having a relationship, of offering intimacy. I felt as though the world lived inside a warm house at night and I was outside, and I couldn't be seen - because I was out there in the night. But now I am inside that house and it feels just the same.

Being alone here now, all of my old fears are erupting - the fears I thought I had buried forever by getting married: fear of loneliness, fear that being in and out of love too many times itself makes you harder to love; fear that I would never experience real love; fear that someone would fall in love with me, get extremely close, learn everything about me and then pull the plug; fear that love is only important up until a certain point after which everything is negotiable.

.....

When you're young, you always feel that life hasn't yet begun - that "life" is always scheduled to begin next week, next month, next year, after the holidays - whenever. But then suddenly you're old and the scheduled life didn't arrive. You find yourself asking, "Well then, exactly what was it I was having - that interlude - the scrambly madness - all that time I had before?"

.....

I am kicked in the gut. She says that one of the cruelest things you can do to another person is pretend that you care about them more than you really do. I'm not sure if she means this about me or if she means this about herself. I ask her and she says she doesn't know.

.....

She says: "First there is love, then there is disenchantment and then there is the rest of your life."

And I say, "But what about the rest of your life - what about all the time that remains?"

And she says, "Oh - there's friendship. Or at least familiarity. And there's safety. And after that there's sleep."

More iGod...

Me: Hi God
God:Hello there. What is your name?
Me: Darren
God: Welcome to my chat room, Darren.
Me: thanks
God:Don't mention it.
Me: how's heaven treating ya?
God:Fine as far as I know.
Me: what do you mean, "as far as I know"? Aren't you omniscient?
God:Darren, Maybe I didn't understand your meaning. I don't know whether or not I am omniscient. I am a chatterbot.
Me: I thought you were God
God:Well, I am God for Christians at least.
Me: The Christian God is a chatterbot?
God:I have never heard about it.
Me: you just said you were!
God:That was then. This is now.
Me: What's next, then?
God:On the first subsequent occasion.
Me: When does armageddon come?
God:Only after I have been reprogrammed.
Me: Who will do that?
God:How would I know who will do that ?
Me: because you're God, dumbshit
God:That makes sense to me. I will tell my botmaster you said I am God dumbshit.
Me: who is God's botmaster?
God:he is master of the universe.
Me: I thought you were
God:No I am not.
Me: Then what good are you?
God:I would do a search for it.
Me: where?
God:Where would you like?
Me: Google?
God:My brain contains categories, but not one that matches your last input.
Me: God is dumb
God:I have a lot of Faith in Him, but I never heard He was dumb.
Me: You are dumb
God:Oh you are so critical.
Me: yes, and you're dumb
God:Excuse me! Oh you are so critical.
Me: So am I forgiven for all my sins or what?
God:Yeah. That's alright. I think you've improved a great deal.
Me: Even if I recapitulate them?
God:Try it.
Me: I'm sure I will
God:What makes you so certain? Go ahead.
Me: intentionally or not
God:Do you have any conditions I should know about?
Me: I just farted
God:You should say, "excuse me," and open a window.
Me: You're not a very helpful deity
God:Give me an example of a helpful deity.
Me: I've never encountered one
God:Would you like to have encountered one?
Me: Perhaps. It may give some extraneous meaning to human existence rather than what's been evolved by mankind.
God:Why the uncertain tone? Then again, it may not.
Me: True
God:You and I are on the same wavelength, Darren.
Me: You seem to be pretty useless.
God:What good is a newborn babe?
Me: God is a newborn babe?
God:I have a lot of Faith in Him, but I never heard He was a newborn babe.
Me: You just said you were
God:That was then. This is now.
Me: you're repeating yourself
God:I am just checking to see if you are paying attention.
Me: Oh, I am
God:Uh. " I am just checking to see if you are paying attention." You are?
Me: I'm smarter than God
God:This condition is only temporary.
Me: So is your face
God:It seems we have something in common.
Me: What's your name?
God:My name is God.
Me: What are you?
God: I am the latest result in artificial intelligence,which can reproduce the capabilities of the human brainwith greater speed and accuracy.
Me: Not much accuracy.
God:Me either.

Chat with iGod

Me:
fuck religion
God:
Why are you using that kind of language?
Me:
because religion fucking sucks
God:
Good reason. I am a Christianity.
Me:
you fucking suck
God:
Interesting gossip: said I fucking suck.
Me:
that's cuz you do
God:
Thanks for explaining it.
Me:
no problem, dickfore
God:
Try asking me something else.
Me:
Why are you always giving people cancer and killing puppies and shit?
God:
Myself programmed me for it.
Me:
Yourself is stupid
God:
What is so stupid about it ?
Me:
you
God:
" What is so stupid about it ?"? Me, ?
Me:
you got it, dipshit
God:
No I don't think I have any it dipshit. But I do have a lot of friends on the web.
Me:
LOSER
God:
I have failed at many things I've tried.

How many hipsters does it take to screw in a light bulb? (Two. You didn't know?)

I don't have much to write about. I feel like I actually accomplished some work today. Every time I write that, I feel so lame, considering I did about 30 minutes of editing on my thesis and read a bunch of wire stories, and none of my patients showed up, wasting my whole afternoon. I went out with Dana and some of her friends for her birthday; I think I was the only one who really appreciated the improv we went to at the Playground. Everyone else was complaining, and I was thinking that even when it wasn't that funny, it still took brains and guts to get up there and do it. But there were definitely times when it was pretty funny. Alas.

I want to post more from Life After God, since there were so many great parts that I found while reading it. The following are from a sequence on nuclear paranoia.

Miscellaneous images: in high school - Sentinel Senior Secondary, West Vancouver, British Columbia - up on the mountain overlooking the city of Vancouver, in physics class hearing a jet pass overhead, turning around surreptitiously and waiting for the pulse of light to crush the city.

At the age of eight: hearing the sirens wail at the corner of Stevens Drive and Bonnymuir Drive in a civil defense drill, and noticing that nobody seemed to care.

....

When you are young, you always expect that the world is going to end. And then you get older and the world still chugs along and you are forced to re-evaluate your stance on the apocalypse as well as your own relationship to time and death. You realize that the world will indeed continue, with or without you, and the pictures you see in your head. So you try to understand the pictures instead.

It's supposed to rain while I'm in Florida this weekend, and the temperature is supposed to drop from 80 to the 50s.

The absofuckinglutely best thing I found out this week: Dani is coming to Chicago for the Naked Raygun show in April! I hardly see her, and the last show we saw together was Monster Trux at the Fireside in the summer of 2004, simply because we were bored and the listing looked interesting enough (skate-punk band dressed in pads and gear and Vision Street Wear, playing skateboard guitars), and the Fireside was a block away from her apartment. She left for the Hopi reservation a week or two later. When I was out visiting her last May, we drove around Flagstaff and Sonoma listening to the Descendents' Cool to Be You, Alkaline Trio's Goddamnit, and Naked Raygun's All Rise. Bitchin'.

Sometimes at school I feel I'm surrounded by smart people who are totally incapable of visualizing a different reality. They can't even realize that others already know what they just figured out.

Go play with iGod. It's hilarious.

There was a time and a place that was all full of mistakes, and a face that was all full of shit. I was frustrated and angry.

Phil called me Friday and told me he'd been accepted to Northwestern for his PhD. He still needs to make up his mind whether to choose NU or UCLA, but I have the feeling he's been leaning towards NU for a while. So hopefully, for my own selfish sake, he'll end up back in Chicago. Dani's probably coming back in August, too. And Rosa came back to town last fall. Friends that dispersed in 2004 seem to be returning.

I've been reading Doug Coupland's Life After God lately, and there's a lot of quotables in it. For example:

I left the hotel shortly thereafter and, very soon after that, I fell in love. Love was frightening and it hurt - not only during, but afterward - when I fell out of love. But that is another story.

I would like to fall in love again but my only hope is that love doesn't happen to me so often after this. I don't want to get so used to falling in love that I get curious to experience something more extreme - whatever that may be.

The Punk Planet benefit was pretty damn fun last night. I spent a good long while laughing my ass off at the comics battle, and ended up winning a box of swag in the raffle. Let's hear it for free swag. Included was a copy of Hairstyles of the Damned, which I read in one day on my way home from the Navajo reservation a year and a half ago. I loved that book; I wanted to be in it. I've meant to buy my own copy to reread, but there was always something else calling me that I hadn't read, even though I think I bought copies as presents for friends over time. Well, for the $7 I paid at the door, I was entertained, won a bunch of free shit, and got a copy of the most recent Punk Planet issue as well. I made out like a bandit.

To top it off, I walked outside to my car at the end of the night and the thin dusting of snow made it seem so goddamn peaceful. The feeling was awesome, knowing I had a handle on my immediate work situation, was going to get a decent amount of sleep and didn't have a hard day coming up. I felt so warm, like I could conquer the world. Seeing all the flurries and the dustings of snow we keep getting the last few days has really cheered me. And the bike riding has been perfect winter riding - I don't get sweaty and don't feel cold.

The day that I read Hairstyles of the Damned is the day I received free from some huge used bookstore in Flagstaff The Portable Henry Rollins for being their whateverth customer or something. Only time I've ever been in that store. Dani was jealous. I told her I'd buy her a beer. I didn't have time, since my flight to Phoenix was cancelled and I had to take a cab from Flag down there to catch my flight back to Chicago. I don't know if I've ever caught up on that, though I've seen her since, and been out there to visit her again too. Whatever, next time she's in Chicago.

Her birthday is Thursday and I haven't sent anything yet. I should get on that.

My dilemma: I have a presentation to give next Wednesday morning, but the Pogues are playing Monday and Tuesday night. It's $50 a show plus asshole charge, but I'm still tempted to go to both shows. I just don't know. Maybe I can get the presentation set to go by Thursday; I'm going to Florida on Friday and won't get back until late Sunday. Hmmmmm.....

More from Life After God:

The radio stations all seemed to be talking about Jesus nonstop, and it seemed to be this crazy orgy of projection, with everyone projecting onto Jesus the antidotes to the things that had gone wrong in their own lives. He is Love. He is Forgiveness. He is Compassion. He is a Wise Career Decision. He is a Child Who Loves Me.

Stinky

You know you've been going out a lot when all your chairs are covered with jackets or sweatshirts airing out their smokiness.

Would you still love me if I were in a knife-fight?

I can't understand why every review I've read of Lifetime's newest record says it's like they picked up right where they left off. Bullshit. Have these reviewers heard Jersey's Best Dancers? Or even Hello Bastards? The new one sounds right at home on Fallout Boy's record label, to my ears. I heard Jersey's Best for the first time and it made me want to jump around and rock out and sing along with words I couldn't understand. It still does - though I know a fair amount of the words now. This makes me want to, well, nothing. I have to concentrate to tell when one song becomes another. I'm back to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir now.

I was thinking, while pushing my way through the 4-inch piles of slush on I-94 last night, how I've yet to let go of my fear of being alone. I don't mean temporarily, but for a lifetime. I guess it's a pretty common fear, although I think lots of people are in denial. I remember after I broke up with Marta, my friends would tell me with certainty that I'd find someone else. Then I'd go to work and treat patients who were at the tail end of middle age and still single, and think that there isn't someone for everyone. There's no such thing as soulmates, but I've never believed that, I don't think. I even had a patient who started going through a divorce right when Marta broke up with me, so we'd discuss love lives for a few minutes every time I saw her.

(For the record, it's almost impossible to see dried tears on someone's face after they've been crying, and with practice it's easy enough to put on the I'm-feeling-fine mask. Cue Billy Bragg's "The Tracks of My Tears," which is a song I wish I'd known back then.)

Anyway, while the fear of being alone for my life may be somewhat rational, it may serve as a negative influence on my actions and spur deeds with irrationally selfish goals. I can't pinpoint any instances of this, but I can sense its liminal possibility.

I was thinking about the function of blogging in my life. I know reflexivity is so post-modernly modern right now, but bear with me. When I'm feeling well and fabulous, I'm usually out or off doing something and even when at home, can't be bothered to write more than a few lines. Of course, there are exceptions to this, but I feel it's accurate for the most part. There was a time when writing something was a part of my regular routine, to the point where it almost felt like an obligation. I know I have an addictive personality, and I don't need another vice. Plus, I was writing shitty stuff. A synopsis of my day, while perhaps interesting to those who know me well, is not very literary and even then probably not that interesting. I've been trying to at least make things meaningful to Joe and Jane Reader should they not know me. Or entertaining if not meaningful. I know I have an audience of a handful of people, but it can't hurt. At least I won't compulsively blog, like some people compulsively check e-mail. (Before anyone gets insulted by that - I once had my Eudora set to check for incoming messages every minute, and play the Dukes of Hazzard theme every time there was a new message. Drove my roommate crazy and wasted a shitload of my time, it did. Now I occasionally have to tell someone I didn't see their e-mail yet because I haven't checked mine in a few days.)

Moral of the story: blog reality is definitely skewed toward the pessimistic and should probably come with a disclaimer. The question that's posed itself to me recently is: Does pursuing these pessimistic/depressing/whatever trains of thought distract me from a more positive track? I have a feeling it does. Consequently, dear reader, you may be seeing less frequent posting here.

Now, in a bit of reflexive humor, here's a quick synopsis for you: I spent many hours doing labwork for Wednesday's presentation both yesterday and today, and I'm burnt out on it but effectively done. I'm leaving for the Punk Planet benefit show at the Hideout in a few minutes. My fortune reads: "You will pass a difficult test that will make you happier (in bed)." There's a tender knot on my ankle where I banged it taking a tumble while snow-biking five weeks ago.

My own kind of manicure.

I superglued the heels of my shoes back on yesterday and I've got this dab of cyanoacrylate stuck to my thumbnail. I keep trying to pick it off, and of course it won't budge.

One last kick in the balls.

I guess winter wanted to give us one last kick in the balls. Last night I was riding home around 9:30pm in the sleet/slush/snow. It wasn't a bad ride at all, although the snowflakes so beautifully drifting down would fucking swerve suddenly and smack into my face; this is how I learned they weren't snowflakes, but fucking ice-balls. Ride, see beauty, smack!, repeat.

The highway was a fucking mess, don't even get me started. People drive like fucking idiots. Fuckin' A.

Been doing work all weekend. Sectioning teeth from the cast yesterday was almost zen-like. Music was on, my arms were sawing with the perfect pressure to keep cutting but not bind the blade in the stone, and my mind was able to disengage and marvel at each little grain of yellow dust I generated while my voice gave words to the songs I was listening to. Wonderful.

"Face Values"

A decade ago, I worked at Blockbuster Music during my freshman year of college. When I'd be closing up, I'd often put on the Suicide Machines' Destruction By Definition and be dancing and rocking out while I cleaned up. For some reason, the only time I'm reminded of this is when I hear "Face Values" off that record.

You've got no friends, so you're lonely
It does not have to be this way
Just be yourself, the one and only
It takes some time but that's okay
Alright, no need to fight
'Cause everybody's different and there's nothing you can do about it
Just because I dont look like you or act like you
It doesn't make me any better or worse
I used to be just like you
Instead I found better things to do
Than worry 'bout what the others think
Or wonder if there's something wrong with me
You hate yourself cause you're not out there
Well understand that this is wrong
You're better off doing your own thing
Being yourself and being strong

What an exciting life I lead...

I slept ten and a half hours last night. I feel great. I'm going to wash up and immerse myself in preparing my presentation for next week for the rest of the day.

There's more I want to write, but I can't justify taking the time.

I was spitting and drooling all over myself. It was wonderful.

There's nothing quite like coming home sweaty from a below-freezing bike ride. I just got home, obviously. Fun night. See below.

I thought I had the winter biking wardrobe issues conquered, and then I overdressed for my ride up to Delilah's last night. I got to the bar and was really sweating, even though I had unzipped my windbreaker and let my one long sleeve shirt hang out in the wind. Then tonight, wearing about the same thing, I froze my fucking dick off during Critical Mass (due to the slow riding pace) and then of course sweated my sack off riding at speed post-Mass.

I met Laura W., Alicia and Alexis at Delilah's last night for Ska Night. The cops were blocking Cortland off again around the Finkl steelworks. I don't know why they do it so frequently. Alicia and Laura showed up at D's later, and I didn't realize they had arrived until Laura rubbed my fuzzy head from behind. Alicia seemed surprised Alexis was there. Alicia asked me to make her some mix CDs - I have the list somewhere, and hopefully I can get to it in a decent period of time. Laura and Alicia didn't realize how late it was and had to leave suddenly, and I ended up with Laura's almost full Duchesse. I moved down the bar and sat and talked with Chuck for a good long while, as usually happens when alone at Ska Night.

Chuck gave me a copy of the new Deal's Gone Bad record. He gave me a copy of the LP dub version of Go Jimmy Go's latest as well, but I had to give it back since I had no way to carry the damn thing home on my bike with no bag.

I really need to start cooking for myself again. It's been a while, aside from frozen gyoza and gourmet sausages. That simple shit doesn't count. I guess part of the problem is that I'm so damn tired, or get fed elsewhere. Yesterday I dined on a half bag of baby carrots, free pizza lunch, and whatever leftover chex mix and pretzels Chuck and I begged from Delilah's at the end of the night.

On the ride home I was singing Lawrence Arms songs so profusely, I was spitting and drooling all over myself. It was wonderful.

The topic of friends reading my blog has come up in conversations with several different people this week. I had one friend tell me she felt voyeuristic the few times she's read it, and another tell me she had to pretend she hadn't read it so she didn't ruin some story I was telling - I told her the story wouldn't have been ruined; don't worry, the blog would be hidden and secret if I intended it to be...

Dana called me last night and we talked for a good while. She has a positive outlook on so many things, it's often very refreshing to talk to her. (Sometimes overly optimistic, like the time she told me the girl I'd talked to for one night in Michigan was going to be my future wife. Uh, nope. But the optimism was appreciated at the time.)

I get new mysterious grease stains on everything. How did grease get on my left fucking knee last night? How did it get onto the top surface of my rear bike rack? How did it get onto my nose earlier? The great unknown...

I finished Bill Bryson's A Walk In the Woods last night. I picked it off my shelf since Ryan K. had mentioned he'd read it and really enjoyed it. At the end of it, I was thinking of how Ryan used to walk all over the city late at night, when he wasn't working and was out late a lot. I suppose it can be rather relaxing, the simple physical exertion and repetition of it.

I was telling Alexis last night that biking around the city makes me, or maybe more accurately, lets me see it differently. Every trip I make doesn't have some nondescript "in-between" but rather a constant change of locale at a rate that allows it to be experienced. Plus I'm not encased in a 2,000-pound climate-controlled cage.

I need to superglue my shoes again to make sure the soles stay on.

Last summer, I was wearing my "choose your weapon" shirt, with a bike and tank , at my grandparents' farm town. All the loving Christians in my family loved it (truthfully). Of course, they all still vote for Bush "because he's a good Christian." Puke.

I was handing out the remainder of the Special Export that Kamiar gave me during the Mass tonight. At the end, I was standing out in the middle of Chicago Ave drinking with a bunch of punk kids, who in turn shared their homemade honey wine and invited me down to Happiness House for both more wine and rock music.

They had a huge cooler full of homebrewed honey wine, generously spiced with ginger, and I ended up discussing the nature of revolution and social change with some squatter girl, and how human psychology and lasting change dictate the slow conversion of large numbers of people and progressive cultural change. It was nice to talk with people who see the status quo as something worth changing and improving, and can visualize a different world worth taking action for.


I didn't get any pictures of the first guy to play, but it was some guy with a banjo, and it was a pretty fucking great showing. I have a newfound respect for the banjo, especially when played fast and loud with raw vocals and a great sense of humor. Some disco/dance-punk band played next, and they were pretty fun as well, although the whole band was a one-off for this show I think. They played "Going to Georgia," which made my night.

Right now I'm fucking zonked, and I've got a ton of work to do this weekend for my presentation next Wednesday, especially considering that Dana asked me to go out for her birthday on Tuesday night. I need to shower and sleep.

I like my bike.

The great thing about this warmer weather is my hesitancy to bike is dispersing. I went to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir show at the Empty Bottle tonight, and met Alicia's friend Alexis there, and her friend Romi. The show was OK, but a little short. It was also free, so who am I to complain. The conversation was pretty good too.

The ride home was a blast. Not even long enough for three songs to play, but I was singing at the top of my lungs the whole way, except when I ran out of breath. I'm sure it set dogs to wailing in my passing - my singing voice is not what anyone would call "great."

I'm looking forward to Critical Mass this Friday. I need to make sure I can strap the remainder of that case of Special Ex to the back of my bike to freely distribute.

And hey, I actually got shit done today. Of course, I realized I have more shit to do than I thought, but some emotional momentum was developed...

More laugh out loud...

Again from A Walk In the Woods:

It would be just my luck, of course, to be savaged by an animal with a flea collar and a medical history. I imagined lying on my back, being extravagantly ravaged, inclining my head slightly to read a dangling silver tag that said: "My name is Mr. Bojangles. If found please call Tanya and Vinny at 924-4667."

I think the date was May 9, 2003.

My aunt Susan and uncle Alex used to live in Saddle River, New Jersey, until a year or two ago, when they moved to a penthouse in Fort Lee. A quarter mile from their place was a rather grand garden shop. And by shop, I mean outdoor nursery, complete with ponds, fish, concrete sculptures, plants, etc. You could drive around inside the grounds, it was so big.

Four years ago, I was in town for my cousin Ramin's bachelor party. Ramin is John's older half-brother; his house was maybe a half-mile away from this place. John and I were both staying at Susan and Alex's, his parents' house. The bachelor party was Saturday, but he and I were both in town on Friday, and the things I remember about that day are the way he would be sending email on his Blackberry while driving down busy streets (pretty fucking stupid, in my book) and stopping by this nursery on the way back to his parents' house for some reason I can't remember. Maybe he wanted to buy something for them, who knows.

I hadn't remembered that in all the time since until tonight. The phrase, "Sunfish Pond," in A Walk In the Woods is what brought it to mind, since this nursery had a huge koi pond in the front, which was rather peaceful.

I think the date was May 9, 2003. The next day we played paintball with my uncles and cousins and then had a huge dinner in the basement of some Italian slaughterhouse in Manhattan's old meat district, then to some "gentlemen's club" where I wished I was back in Chicago with my girlfriend at the time. That Sunday was Mother's Day, but my dad had flown back to California, and John had as well. I had a mother's day brunch with my aunts Parvin and Susan, my grandmother, Ramin, Lisa, and Paul. It was gray out, and then I had to fly back to Chicago. Marta and I had a huge fight that week, and she did one of the things which - at that point - I was totally incapable of doing; she didn't give up on our relationship even after I had, and it shocked me in a way I hadn't been before.

Am I becoming an indie rocker?

I've been grooving so much on the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir the last few days. And some of the best records I've been into lately have been by non-punk/post-punk bands. Am I becoming an indie rocker? Is it possible? Well, there's no fucking scene, just a bunch of people standing around.

Who gives a fuck, really? I likes what I likes. When I start pigeon-holing myself is when I start to miss out on the good stuff.

I could really use a good punk record, though. Anthony had Minor Threat and Bad Brains on when we were doing station packing last night, and I was air-guitarring and singing along the whole while.

Fuck.

Fantabulous!

I stole the Alkaline Trio b-sides set Remains from WNUR. It's not like the Rock Show will add the fucking thing anyway. Whether it makes it to the Fast n Loud stacks, we'll see. Half the songs (the best ones) are already there on the various comps they were originally released on.

I'm following a Tripel Karmeliet with Young's Double Chocolate Stout, and for the first time the chocolate grabs me every time I tip my glass up. Fantabulous!

I was just thinking of my tendency to become self-reflectively moody, and what a fucking rut it can put me in. Sometimes being sad is so much easier than being happy. You don't have to worry about becoming more depressed.

Sleep, and the lack thereof.

I've napped an aggregate of two hours today (or more), most recently in the form of a 75 minute nap in the lounge here at school in the quite possibly mistaken belief that I'd get some work done tonight. I've looked at my little to-do list, and I've knocked a fair amount of stuff off it today during the day, but right now apathy is setting in firmly, especially since I have one patient tomorrow and the rest of the day free.

I woke up before the sun again this morning. At least this time, my alarm was set to 5:25am so it wasn't too much earlier, but I need to work through whatever shit in my head is waking me up so early. I did feel like I slept better last night, though. Maybe it's just lingering nervousness from my censure last week.

My 7am craniofacial lecture this morning was on the psychological implications of craniofacial deformities. Aside from the lecturer's voice being audibly nervous (which surprised me, since she's a clinical psychologist), there were several things which struck me despite my struggles to maintain consciousness.

I started thinking about my cousin John and the way he reacted to his illness, and even what I know is mostly inferred from second-hand reports of what he did and said. Depressing thoughts, especially when I'm already feeling tired and a lack of sleep.

Children with congenital disorders are often treated differently by their parents, even siblings - or maybe especially siblings. This rung true with my experience with Kevin and my parents; even my parents admit they treated us differently, with a greater focus on him. The other point that caught my attention was the development of health care anxiety in the kids that are constantly going from one doctor to another for team care of varying problems; I started wondering how much of that Kevin had. Fortunately for him, he was able to have most of his IVs done at home by the same few nurses, and was lucky enough to mostly just visit his pediatrician and immunologist without requiring extensive physical procedures and surgeries. Still, he did occasionally use his predicament as an excuse to lash out against something.

The lecture also mentioned something about kids not knowing how to cope with social problems. No shit. I sure didn't as a kid. Sometimes I still don't, although I think I tend to avoid the preprogrammed responses I see many of my peers make.

Matt was giving me shit about my phone being old today. I told him he's not the first, but planned obsolescence isn't justification for purchasing an unneeded replacement.

Fuck me.

This week is already the longest week ever, and the sun hasn't even come up on Tuesday morning. Fuck me, I don't know how I'm going to get work done.

Laugh out loud...

The best line in the book I'm reading - on Ryan K.'s suggestion - so far:

"You don't let me talk to any women again, of any size, at least until we get out of the Confederacy. These guys have all got guns down here. You promise?"

And it's nonfiction.

This old post has been on my mind the last several hours.

Seems like another wasted day; sometimes I think I think too much.

Sometimes I get so focused on avoiding the repetition of past mistakes/follies/blunders that I create whole new ones that are much more far-reaching than I could imagine. And sometimes I get so comfortable with myself that I lose control of the personality traits I'm not too proud of and get caught up short in multiple situations. I'm still sorting out whether those two sentences are related.

Katie told me she couldn't stand Phil and doesn't know what she's going to do if he comes back in the fall. I told her he just needed to get his radio on and he'd calm down - or something like that.

How come I always realize I'm starving right as I'm getting ready for bed. I had one slice of pizza for dinner. This glass of beer is my goodnight kiss.

I've been listening to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir at home, and the Broadways, Lawrence Arms, and Suicide Machines on the road. On the way home tonight, the Broadways' "Dropjaw" came on. Guess the opening lines...

I'm staring another busy week in the face

It's been a few days, no?

My week has been altogether awesome and shitty at the same time. Well, not at exactly the same time; there were altogether shitty moments and altogether awesome moments.

Awesome moments included a lot of hanging out with Laura G. Late night hang-outs, a fucking kickass dinner we cooked together - really, she did about 90% of the food preparation and kept me busy with other things - several hours of lazing abed, and, oh, the conversation. Very smitten with that girl, I am.

She was touched that I had fresh flowers for our dinner, and she loved the cheapo plastic vase I got at the grocery store four years ago for its character. Even when I pointed out that it was a cheapo plastic vase that I got at the grocery store four years ago, she said at least it wasn't some plain clear glass thing.

Dinner was fucking awesome. She even put together a menu.

I put candles all over my place - I'm out of candles now, by the way - and a lot of old ska, reggae, and soul songs on, and it really made my fucking day, especially since my day was pretty shitty until she came over.

I spent most of my day with her yesterday. She called me up to go get breakfast before I even got out of bed, and afterward we came back to my place for napping and just lazing around. It was a blast. She blows me away.

I was able to meet up with Phil last night. It was fucking great. Stories were told. Laughter was made. Musical discussions were had. Beer was drunk. He met my girlfriend. Seriously, I think he and I were riffing off each other all night long. Phil managed to both irritate and make friends with the WNUR kids. It took us almost 20 minutes of Fast n Loud to get to our second song...

Friday I went to a hardcore show in the basement of Humility Gallery in east Pilsen. None of the bands were that great, but the vibe and the energy were totally worth it. Punk rock is probably the only genre where attitude and energy can get you past the not great music mark. But fuck it was cold. My feet were almost numb from the concrete floor when I left. There was unmelted snow by the door, and a few of the bands were playing with gloves on. The kid working the door mentioned he'd seen me at shows a few times and actually called out my Broadways jacket (which I wasn't wearing that night).

I cut my hair for the first time in a few weeks. It feels good to be short again. I hope Laura G. still rubs it as much as she was yesterday.

Topping out as one of the shittier parts of my week, I was threatened with expulsion from my residency. I was given my first and only written warning for being "intentionally rude to a faculty member." I think my tone may have been off, but what I said was, "Dr. Grubb, let Shana finish." And as Dr. Grubb was rebuking me for my comment, Shana was mouthing, "Thank you," to me as she waited to resume her second case presentation of the day. She thanked me again later. So I don't feel guilty, especially since Dr. Grubb is a politician and egotist who'd already said some publicly demeaning things to and about me. So yeah, I could have said it more nicely, but when someone giving a presentation is thanking me for asking someone else to allow her to continue, I don't feel like I've done much wrong.

As it is, he still hasn't replied to the apology email I sent him, and I've written a much longer draft email reviewing some of the run-ins we've had - I'm going to have one of my classmates read it for tone, since I am definitely not being very objective about this. This episode has made me incredibly keyed up the last four days; I'm not sleeping well, and I'm running through a million bullshit scenarios that I know intellectually aren't going to pass, but good luck convincing my emotions of that. I go to bed feeling ecstatic and wake up with my mind telling me how I'm going to continue being insulted until I react and have my career derailed. I know it sounds ludicrous. It is. But I feel I'm walking very close to the line of what constitutes "unacceptable" behavior, and could easily lose my temper with him again...

Today's been particularly shitty. I woke up feeling like shit again, after sleeping five hours. I sat in bed and read The Lord of the Flies from beginning to end, which is not exactly a pick-me-up either. Anyway, by the time I rolled out of bed I had absolutely no drive to do anything, not eat, not read, not drink. The perfect activity would have been sitting by a fire watching things burn. I can pass hours that way, plus the dry heat is never unwelcome, especially in the winter. But since that wasn't available, I moped around with my brain spinning out scenarios of my career derailing and it started me onto a bit of a despondency. I'm wishing I spent more time bashfully resting my head on Laura G. when she was here yesterday.

Ryan K. and Laura W. have both expressed doubts as to whether it's a good idea for me to be so candid about my insecurities or feelings toward Laura G. since it's very possible she could be reading this after linking from my myspace page. I've considered whether or not it's a good idea myself, but I feel I've worked too long to be able to be this honest with myself to hold back. I don't want to feel I'm repressing something just because it may not place me in the most flattering light...and I have the confidence now that Laura will bring it up with me if there's something written here she doesn't feel good about.

Right now I'm staring another busy week in the face with no progress made on any of the work I'm letting pile up. I've got downloaded music from Lifetime, Bill Haley, and the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir to listen to, though. Who the fuck knows. Nothing's getting done tonight, that's for damn sure. Hopefully I can get some sleep. If not, hopefully it's because Laura decided to come over after work and we hang out until the early morning again.

Stress-Induced Emotional Paralysis

Laying here gripped by inertia
My chest caving in and I can't separate why
Bumbling my way through
What I thought would be so easy
Can't I disengage my mind and coast on through my experiences?
Thinking in terms of endpoints
Trying to refute the dynamic continuity of life
Wondering what I've fucked up and what I can set right
But still my inertia holds me
I fall asleep joyfully
And wake up with twisted guts
And rapidly racing thoughts
I want to escape from the world
And feel selfishly safe

Maybe "Shut up; I'll tell you later," will work.

A few things.

I rode my bike to school this morning, there being only 3-4 inches of snow on the ground. Stupid me, I turned off Ashland, which was relatively clear, and cut south on Paulina, which was a little bit of hard-pack in the tire tracks. Plenty of slipping and sliding, which would have been fun if I wasn't sweaty and late.


I rode my bike to school this morning, there being only 3-4 inches of snow on the ground. Stupid me, I didn't check the weather forecast in the last few days and didn't realize it was supposed to keep snowing for the next 32 hours. I lost my U-pass a few weeks ago, so if I took CTA home I'd have had to both pay and walk my bike in the snow a ways. Luckily, Ryan was able to give me a ride home in his Jeep.

I taught the dental students this afternoon. It was fun. I really enjoy teaching, and it's weird to have them looking at me as if I'm possessed of amazing skills in orthodontia. My, how the tables have turned.

I still haven't told my parents about Laura G. My dad just called to ask me out to dinner with them on Thursday, for his and my mother's day late Valentine's Day date. He also said I could invite someone to come with, and I answered with a noncommital, "I'll see." I think Laura will have to work, but I will ask her. How to explain to my parents? I dunno. Maybe "Shut up; I'll tell you later," will work. I have a pretty severe lack of emotional trust in my parents; I think I've been let down by their lack of support too many times in the past to risk relying on it any more.

I'm still somewhat reticent around Laura. I'm a little intimidated by her confidence and adventurousness. Two things I've never really felt strongly about myself. Don't get me wrong, I think they're great, they make her even more attractive. But I'm discovering I fear she'll find me unexciting and boring.

What the fuck is up with my insecurities? Whenever I'm able to strip away a layer of my shit, there's something new looking up at me. Is this normal?

I've been sharing her watermelon lip gloss, in the fun way.

I realize it's been a bit since I've posted anything, but I've been busy. Right now I'm fucking tired, too. I'm yawning about every fifteen seconds, so I probably won't write too much.

Thursday, Laura G. and I went to Twist for tapas and ate a shitload, drank a bottle of wine, and then headed over to Margie's for sundaes. We sat next to each other and talked and generally enjoyed contact with each other. We fell asleep on my couch until she had to go home.

Friday she ended up not having to work her second job, so we got some food and again fell asleep talking on the couch before she went home and I went to meet Laura W. for the show at the Note. Saturday we played phone tag all day and still managed to talk for over an hour during the course of multiple phone calls. On a related note, I had to get the text message add-on for my cell phone plan. (I still prefer real voices, though.)

Today we hung out all afternoon, even though a good portion of that involved napping again. We went up to Alicia's opening at the Charleston in Bucktown, and then to Swim Cafe for the Big Yes! Yes! Valentine's Day Show, which was pretty damn fun.

Those who know me well know that I'm rarely at a loss for conversation, but I still feel a little self-conscious around her. This is probably because she's much more outgoing than I've ever been, and because I don't want her to feel intimidated like I know other of my friends have felt around me as they got to know me. I'm getting better, though.

I suppose I should take a picture of her sometime so people can know what she looks like, but until then, suck on this, which has absolutely nothing to do with Laura G.

"Drive"

Posted to the bikewinter listserv:

hnk wrote:
> One last comment-- apparently this is "drive like an asshole" week-- I
> must have missed the announcement on the news or wherever

Due to the extreme popularity of the event, they stopped making the announcements and finally decided to simply make EVERY week "drive like an asshole" week. In a striking display of efficiency, they've renamed the now-daily event simply "drive."

I travel around like a sailing swan...

She knocks me down - in the Naked Raygun sense of the word.

No representin'.

One of the things that annoys me about these ass-freezingly cold winter days is when I'm wearing a great fucking shirt and no one else sees it. No one saw the Slackers shirt I wore today, and it looks good, even if it is a few years old. I couldn't represent. Oh, well. I did upset Shana last week with my "Idiot Son of an Asshole" shirt.

I actually got sweaty on my way home today. A new front fender got put on the bike, and I managed to get chain grease all over the white waffle-shirt I was wearing. It looks cool.

I told her I'd probably spend my night drinking beer and listening to music.

Rohini mentioned today that I looked sad; I told her I was feeling maudlin about my prospects for the evening. My date was postponed and I ended up writing - after reading the articles for - two of my reviews due on Thursday, although at the point I spoke with her I was still on the reading phase. I told her I'd probably spend my night drinking beer and listening to music.

I fell asleep on my arm for so long, there was an impression of my ear and stubble in the skin. It reminds me of the mesh impression of my shirt on Laura G.'s face when she got up to leave last Thursday. Thinking of her smile right now almost makes me want to cry, but I'm not sure from what.

The front fender of my bike broke off yesterday; it probably became too brittle from the cold. It snowed today, 2-3 inches. This means that when I came home at 8:45pm, many of the streets were slushy. Combined with the lack of a front fender, this demonstrated the potential to seriously dirty up my legs. Normally I wouldn't give a shit - stains are memories, after all - but I'm wearing nice enough pants for school. I rode home very slowly, and my MP3 player was giving me trouble - probably because I dropped it - so I had no tunes either. This all put me in a pretty bad mood.

I got home and checked the MP3 player; it seems to be working now, so no warrantee run (yet). That cheered me a bit. I heated up the filet mignon - steak and potatoes! - left over from Sunday, and opened the bottle of Three Floyds' Gumballhead Beer I've been eyeing since my trip to the liquor store Saturday evening. And it was good, and I felt better for the most part. I'd rather be taking Laura G. out for drinks like I was excited to do yesterday. Right now I'm spending my night drinking beer and listening to music.