what better time

Do I miss her or do I miss the idea of her?

Over and over this thought spins, rotisserie style, with the misshapen lump of meat that causes the rotation to silently thump the sizzling air at the bottom of its repetitive rotation, in my head night after night.

Where did she go? What is she doing? Does she miss me like I miss her? Would I ever have the guts to ask? Is it reasonable to ask? Is it fair to ask?

I can't remember her birthday, but I remember the brand and distinct smell of her skin moisturizer. I remember wanting to slip my arm around her waist while she was cooking. Was it bok choi or choi sum? Something green.

But I remember not knowing whether I could say "I love you," like someone who really is in love. I want to say it, but do I want to say it to her? The romantic in me has never given up; I suppose that's where the "hopeless" prefix comes from as well. It all depends upon the time of day. Realist by day, hopeless romantic by night. I'd make for a terrible superhero.

Also interesting how physical yearning can screw up the senses. Hunger would be the most obvious example. I've written about food twice so far in this post but surprisingly, have not gone into Homer/Pavlov drool mode. But I'm talking about how a lack of physical contact, casual or intimate, can mess with the state of mind. I'm trying to remember the details on an old experiment about very young monkeys without mothers who had different types of inanimate objects for companions. Basically, the subjects that had a soft object with face-like identifying features with them were the ones that didn't end up neurotic. I'm jisting of course, and probably making some stuff up for the sake of argument. What's the argument? Well I'm actually getting thrown off track because, ironically, I'm getting hungry. I'll hurry. Okay, I like hugs. Will that work? Okay, no. I love hugs! Hugs are awesome. I wish people would hug all the time as an acceptable way of greeting. Sure I hug a lot of my friends all the time, but I'm talking about instead of shaking hands. Imagine that. Who doesn't feel better after a good hug? None of this shoulder-lean-in-pat-pat-done crap. Alas, there is a time and place for everything, even hugs. I guess it would end up creepy even for me if people hugged all the time. I like hugs because they're special. If normal is the baseline then special shouldn't happen all the time. But how cool would it be if special was the baseline with intermittent moments of normalcy? Good golly, I think my life is like that. Well shit, thanks to everyone for making my like special!

What the hell was I complaining about again? Oh yeah, missing her. I don't know if that will ever get resolved, but it sure makes for good brain activity. I think I like this better than sudoku.

you haven't seen the last of me.

For many years during and post-high school I'd describe myself as a "Jack of all trades (master of none)," mostly because I had no intentional focus as far as what I wanted to do with my life. I haven't thought about that description for quite a few years now, but have been starting to feel that way again. I've been dipping into a few different projects to try and get the creative sparkles twinkling again (some successful, some quite painful) and I have come back to a short list of thoughts:

I still haven't mastered anything.
I don't know if I ever truly can or want to.
Most all of my talents and skills make me happy.
I still haven't figured out a way to sustain a lifestyle that I want by those talents and skills that make me the happiest.
Work is agonizingly purposeful; acknowledging its purposefulness makes work less agonizing.
I want to learn how to whistle loudly without using my fingers.

gathering thoughts...

updates forthcoming...

stay tuned...


ps, happy Star Wars Day!
May the 4th be with you.

rock 'n roll

Okay, so maybe it wasn't a Far Side cartoon. Now I think it was a Kliban cartoon (you know, the guy who does all the cats for Crazy Shirts). Of course, I still can't find it anywhere online. And I think I should really stop doing image searches on sex, cheese, rock 'n roll. The internet can be a scary place.

On the other hand, I finally learned how to post pictures.

starting

Of course, it isn't technically "starting" a blog so much as it is a continuation of collected thoughts. There have been a few online as far back as MySpace (which was mostly out of boredom), then came Facebook but it left no room for more than a casual idea here and there. I don't expect to change the world here, but then again, this blog is mostly for me.
This would be a good time to let anyone out there reading this that I will be a lot more open about ideas, thoughts, and feelings here than the typical Facebook Lars. Ellison Lars is still the same guy, but here he has a truer voice. Sheesh, maybe I will have to put up that "adult content" thingy in the beginning.
I haven't been able to decide how to structure these posts yet. It's not like I'm writing an essay or going through my capstone project again, but I also don't want to bore myself if and when I re-read my posts. Well... frick. Just write. Yes? Yes.
So why not break it open with something interesting? I guess it doesn't get much better than sex 'n drugs 'n rock 'n roll, as opposed to this version: (okay, so my first attempt at posting a picture up here failed. I wanted to put up a Far Side comic that had some scruffy looking rats wearing leather jackets singing about "Sex and cheese and rock 'n roll". Har har har. At least I'm getting better at using the italics shortcut. Remember Far Side? It was badass. Calvin & Hobbes too. God, I miss reading comics. But where was I... oh yeah, something interesting.)
Drugs: drugs are awesome. There's a damn good reason why people become addicted to drugs: drugs are awesome. I've tried my fair share (translation: I smoked a lot of dope) and managed to walk away without becoming an addict. Sometimes I wonder why I stopped short, but then I remember what is was like to see people who stayed strung out. "Fuck that," is basically what I said to myself. But yes, drugs are awesome. They are created to serve a purpose and do it without fail (just a heads-up, we're covering Creation and Purpose-Serving at a later date). I don't do (illegal) drugs now and highly doubt that I'd ever again, but I definitely appreciate tylenol and the 'tussin. If I ever break an arm I'm good to go.
Rock 'n Roll and Sex will have to be covered at another time as well. The Taco Bell is making me sleepers, but I feel I should at least end this post with an applicable story. The first time I ever smoked out was... well dammit now I'm wondering how that story, if not this whole freaking blog, might screw me over in the future. Well let's see, if I run for a government position (doubtful) or am associated with a high-ranking official (probable) will it affect them as well? Maybe as long as I don't talk about sex 'n drugs 'n rock 'n roll. Well then what would be the point of having this blog in the first place if I can't talk about whatever the hell I want? And here come the indigestion.
Damn you Taco Bell; you win again.

I suppose my inaugural post should start with a joke.
What do you call a deer with no eyes?
No-eye-deer.
What do you call a deer with no eyes and no legs?
Still no-eye-deer.

I hope these posts get better.