For what is remembered.

Ah yes, for me, spring has finally started. Green tendrils gently push their way out of the ground, reaching for the sun. The birds are chirping. The increasing warmth has initiated the reproductive cycle of all things green once more. Pollen is in the air. The sniffles, the sneezes, as well as the horse sized pills filled with psuedoephedrine and histamine blockers are all reminders for me that spring has begun anew. And, as it is with all new beginnings, Love flourishes. So it begins:

You know how your mind can forget things if you don't make regular use of them? Like Calculus for instance. When do you think that you will need to use dy/dx in the next few years? A better example would be baseball. When's the last time you broke out the ole baseball bat and swung at a few fastballs? Through atrophy, we lose skills that aren't needed, much like the muscles we used for throwing a ball disappear if we don't use them regularly. If you stop exercising, well, you won't be getting more muscular.

Through deprivation, the senses of the body can also be dulled. If you listen to loud music, the cilia in your ears start to lose their sensitivity to softer noises. If you stop working with your hands, the calluses you developed start to disappear. If you stop training your brain to constantly learn, you run the risk of it being less pliant when it comes time to learn something new. (That's a medical fact, the brain certainly follows the use it or lose it philosophy.)

Which brings this post back around to me. For more than two years, I have not been in a relationship, and with the small number of female friends I have, I am trying to be a gentleman. Which for me, means no unwarranted physical contact that is initiated by me. So, without such contact, well, the memory of touching something soft and feminine has shrivelled into this tiny corner at the back of my mind.

Remember a while back, I had mentioned this girl I had met in my engineering class? Of course you do. Well, things have been moving a bit slowly, and as I said a number of times (mostly to remind myself), I need to be focusing on my school work. Well, the other day, she was teasing me, we began to horse around, and as you can imagine, I made physical contact with her trying to keep her away from her cel phone. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but as the professor walked in and started to lecture, I thought to myself, "Wow, her arm was very soft and smooth."

Yep, that thought was very mind shattering. I'm not sure if it's a genuine reaction or merely sarcasm speaking here. It's was at this moment that I reflected that I hadn't touched anything soft and silky in nearly two and a half years. I had forgotten what female contact was like. My sense of touch had atrophied from this unintended deprivation and I had started to forget how touching someone felt like. Then, I began to remember as the feelings quickly flickered through me.

Feelings that reminded me of the fact that I hadn't looked at anyone with that euphoric glee one gets when you see someone you care deeply about. Or touched someone in an intimate way that shared how strongly a person can feel for another person. Rememering that I hadn't said something nice to someone just to see them smile. Forgotten were the smell of freshly washed hair and the smooth glide of gentle fingers across my skin. The lost memories of that warm closeness when body touches body in that companionable way that couples have. I remembered that it was for these memories that I risked my sanity and left the safety of loneliness to enter a relationship with another person.

Then the next thought to cross my mind as my professor droned on about resonant circuits: "Do I even remember how to kiss a girl?" (Odd how something so inane can mean so much when it jumps at you from out of the blue.) The sudden realization that perhaps even that skill had most likely atrophied was startling. And now, I could see her in my peripheral vision. I suddenly felt very shy and selfconscious. I must have started to fidget or something.

If this were a fictional story, now would be a very good time for the professor to pick on me since my attention had digressed from what he was intoning at the front of the classroom. Which is exactly what he did. "So, Grant, for this unity gain circuit, what is the output voltage?" Quite flustered, I glanced quickly at the board and the question finally registered. "Uh. Uhm. For this circuit, the output should be the same as the input?" "Correct. Now, please pay closer attention for the rest of the class."

I went beet red and I certainly paid attention for the rest of the class. After class, my fellow classmates teased me about daydreaming in class. They started asking me if the girl I was in la-la land about was hot. I quietly ignored their comments and packed up my books saying that I was merely tired. Little did they know who I was daydreaming about. She teased me about the daydreaming also. All I could do was smile and say was that I was thinking about something I had forgotten about a while back.

What am I getting myself into? Now, if only I could wipe the silly grin off my face.

Resistance is futile.

Another midterm down, two more to go. But I'm sure that's not why you visit though. ;) So, here we go:

In that ever enduring pursuit of a relationship and perhaps, love, I have watched many people rush headlong into long term relationships, engagements, and possibly even marriage. For some, it is the consummation of their unending love for each other when they finally walk down that aisle in some church, temple, or courtroom. For others, well, let’s just say that they were not meant to be.

In these failed attempts at connecting with someone special, some aspect about their relationship was not worked out, or not finalized before they chose to move forward together. When hardship came about, what had merely been a small crack in the armor of their relationship became a gaping rent. And then, I would hear from others that they had seperated and the relationship that remained would be, at the least, much less cordial. There would be the usual accusations and hurtful remarks that usually are reserved for the most hated of enemies.

Sitting betwixt these two lovers turned contenders, one can only listen helplessly as they air out months and years of minor “infractions” as well as other slights that had been permitted and gone unmentioned or flaws that they had overlooked in the other’s character for far too long. Finally, the last thing they would do together, their final act as one unified whole, would be signing the divorce papers prior to going on their seperate ways.

I have always understood that being in a relationship means overlooking minor faults and eccentricities of your significant other. Minor actions or misdeeds that one must forgive, and then, forget in the name of Love. That being patient, communicative, understanding and being kindest to the one closest to you were the keys to an enduring relationship.

As I watched these relationships fall apart, I can see that what I understand to be the keys to longevity weren’t being observed. I have watched friends fall quickly in and then just as quickly out of love. Often with the (misguided?) understanding that there must be someone out there that is the perfect match for them. We tell each other that they should not give up hope because there is someone just for them.

Are we, perhaps, wrong in thinking this? Shouldn't we make the relationships we are in work somehow? There must have been some reason for getting into the relationship at the start. Was there an initial weakness in the foundation of this relationship that caused the resultant break up? In light of what I've seen and experienced personally, I see the kernel of truth taking root.

What I understand about relationships, I don’t always do. I have done my share of things that have caused relationships to end. Said unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) mean things, or not said a word at all when things were going south. Then, of course, there are the things that potential partners have been perpetrated against me that I don’t care to go over any more. It should suffice to say that the blame should be laid equally all around and each of us were victims.

Experiences like those unmentionable ones have made me more cautious about giving my heart out to anyone. Instead of the youthful naivety that I once proffered to my prospective partner, I have become cautious, almost expecting that the person I am interested in returns my interest before I will commit any further. Which, of course, causes me to often agonize over whether or not I am imagining some reciprocated interest existing there in the first place.

Unlike the perfect lover, I know that I do not forget misdeeds done against me. I can say that there are things that a partner can do that I would just not be able to overlook. My child-like innocence has long since passed, and I am wary of entering another relationship that won’t work. I couldn't bear going through another messy relationship that won't result in the end of my searching. Yet, without trying, I won't find what it is that I seek. More of this irony stuff.

Still, as time slowly erodes away the emotional intensity of those painful memories, I begin to think to myself that perhaps I can overlook some misdeed which at a time closer to some past relationship, I would have adamantly stated that I could not abide with. Much like the tide wears away at a rock, my resistance is slowly fading. Time to see if I can lay a better foundation this time. I think I might name it Peter. (Ok, you can laugh. It was a joke! Oh, nevermind.)

Double venue last night

Last night was a busy night for me. There was a local production of the Vagina Monologues (by stating this, I will no doubt bring all the wrong types being redirected here by google) that I went to, which included the updated (I have no idea how recently) take on birth. I also went to the movie theater to see V for Vendetta. Before everyone thinks that I now have a paying job, I managed to see both the monologues and the movie for free. (I won't even mention the pitiful job fair I went to earlier in the day that several of the companies listed as attending had snubbed the fair.)

This particular production of the Vagina Monologues was a charity event whose proceeds were to be donated for breast cancer research. The person who was supposed to go had purchased the tickets but couldn't go. So, I was given the tickets. I went alone to go see it knowing only that it was a big hit off broadway, and that it was supposed to be very funny.

In an intimate black box theater with seating for fifty, I was one of five or six guys in the room. This was certainly one of those times where I wish I had a platonic female friend to drag along. Possibly, when asked why I came to see the show, I would use her as an excuse for making me go to this venue. Alas, I went alone and felt conspicously out of place, surrounded by a sea of estrogen. Not that I was being looked at strangely for being there alone (as far as I could see), but I certainly felt like I was a pervert (more google fodder) for going to a performance about vaginas. Then again, that was exactly what the monologues are about. (You may wish to skip my impressions about this show due to its graphical nature.)



As for my impressions of the presentation, I was impressed over the breadth of generally taboo items including perjorative words used to describe the female reproductive system that were covered. There were definitely funny parts intended to engender laughter. The orgasm skit probably brought down the entire house. Or was it the woman portraying an extremist view of woman's liberation? Other parts were uplifting, trying to reinforce the beauty of the female reproductive organs. There were graphic descriptions that my more active imagination gave images to that I had to wince at (think of a phrase used by one woman who survived the Bosnian conflict: my insides are swimming with poisoned sperm), which I could easily and vividly imagine after going to see every inch of the human body in all of its unembarrassed detail.

And then there were some serious monologues about the repression of women all over the world that left me very uncomfortable, not becuase I thought about perpetrating these things, but because of the intense emotions projected upon the audience. The author of the play was kind enough to gloss over the more graphic details of certain customs that involved knives and cutting off of the reproductive system. Not that the night wasn't uncomfortable to begin with, since the metal folding chairs we were seated upon weren't designed to leave us comfortable anyway. (Try sitting still in a metal folding chair for two hours and see if you can last.)

Then there was the monologue about comfort woman, and their desire for an apology. I was amazed at how those crimes were overlooked and I certainly don't recall learning such things had happened in any of the history books. It made what I thought would be a light evening into a much more serious affair. Finally, there was the very graphic description and wonder over the trials of birth. Which makes me glad to be a man. Very glad.

In a thoughtful mood, I left to go see V for Vendetta. This movie had come out the week before and I wasn't really interested in seeing it, but I had a free movie pass and my friends wanted to see it. In a typical fashion of the brothers Wachowski, who also created the movie The Matrix, it was a dark movie that tried to show a vision of what might happen if we permit our government to overprotect us from danger. This theme was quickly lost during the progression to its predictible end. Within the first fifteen minutes, you are told how the movie ends. Love conquers hate, right wins over wrong, the weak are strong, yada yada yada. Think Resident Evil with explosions, a mask, and torture.

However, like The Matrix, there is a lot of cool things going on within the context of the movie. As you can imagine, there is the obligatory scene where the hero is outnumbered and kicks the crap out of the bad guys. Much like the lobby scene in The Matrix. This scene ended in a very telling way that shows V is human after all. Introduced in this movie is a subject matter that I won't touch on due to the volatile nature of the subject, same sex relationships. It was tastefully done, I think. I still wouldn't be surprised if it offended many people of more conservative or traditional preferences.

The only gripe I have, being the engineer that I am of course, is the horrendous departure from physics. When you blow up something in a movie, it always looks like a controlled and sequential explosion. In the movie, the authorities try to track down the type of explosive used, and the actress responds, This was homemade, it will take us more time to track it down. Uhm. If this is really an Orwellian society, it would already have been flagged as suspicious, especially if it is stolen as V alludes to in the movie. You would have had databases that would have allowed you to get that information quickly. Worse, they tried very hard to make you think that fertilizer is well, explosive. Thanks to the Patriot Act, I can't say anything further on why it is incomplete. (However, if you paid attention at all to the Olkahoma City incident involving Timothy McVeigh, you probably know what is missing too.)

In contrast to my griping, I genuinely liked the movie for the intent of the movie, in spite of its flaws. It reminded me of Cyrano de Bergerac, a play written by Edmond Rostand (get a free copy of the play here). When V introduces himself to Natalie Portman's (more google fodder here) character Evey, he launches into a soliloquy very reminiscient to Cyrano's Nose soliloquy, which happens to be one of my favorites. This is what V says:

This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it
vestige of the vox populi, now vacant,
vanished, as the once vital voice of the
verisimilitude now venerates what they
once vilified. However, this valorous
visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands
vivified, and has vowed to vanquish
these venal and virulent vermin
van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the
violently vicious and voracious violation
of volition. The only verdict is vengeance;
a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain,
for the value and veracity of such shall
one day vindicate the vigilant and the
virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of
verbiage veers most verbose vis-à-vis an
introduction, and so it is my very good
honor to meet you and you may call me V.

Compare that to the (abridged) Nose soliloquy, which occurs as Valvert tries (and fails) to insult Cyrano about his oversized nose:

Ah no! young blade! That was a trifle short!
You might have said at least a hundred
things
By varying the tone. . .like this, suppose,
Aggressive: 'Sir, if I had such a nose
I'd amputate it!' Friendly: 'When you sup
It must annoy you, dipping in your cup;
You need a drinking-bowl of special shape!'
Descriptive: ''Tis a rock!. . .a peak!. . .a
cape! --A cape, forsooth! 'Tis a peninsular!'
Gracious: 'You love the little birds, I think?
I see you've managed with a fond research
To find their tiny claws a roomy perch!'
Truculent: 'When you smoke your pipe
suppose that the tobacco-smoke spouts from
your nose--Do not the neighbors, as the
fumes rise higher, cry terror-struck:
"The chimney is afire"?'
Considerate: 'Take care, your head bowed
low by such a weight lest head o'er heels you go!'
Tender: 'Pray get a small umbrella made,
Lest its bright color in the sun should fade!'
Cavalier: 'The last fashion, friend, that
hook? To hang your hat on? 'Tis a useful crook!'
Dramatic: 'When it bleeds, what a Red Sea!'
Simple: 'When is the monument on view?'
Rustic: 'That thing a nose? Marry-come-up!
'Tis a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize turnip!'
Or parodying Pyramus' sighs. . .
'Behold the nose that mars the harmony
Of its master's phiz! blushing its treachery!'
--Such, my dear sir, is what you might have said,
Had you of wit or letters the least jot:
But, O most lamentable man!--of wit
You never had an atom, and of letters
You have three letters only!--they spell Ass!
And--had you had the necessary wit,
To serve me all the pleasantries I quote
Before this noble audience. . .e'en so,
You would not have been let to utter one--
Nay, not the half or quarter of such jest!
I take them from myself all in good part,
But not from any other man that breathes!

Not exactly the same ideas, but the character, a man of verse and intelligence who is deformed in some way, but powerful and skilled, seeks to hold strong against those who are in power. Perhaps to defend some idea that is the essence of what humanity is about. However, I am getting carried away. Back to the movie.

Though V for Vendetta was poorly executed in some parts, V's excellent introduction immediately won me over. Besides that, there was the excellent use of Tchaikovsky's Overture of 1812, which the composer reluctantly wrote to celeberate Russia's victory over Napoleon, and in its excess makes a caricature of that victory. A celebration of a false victory. In the movie, it is used to awaken the slumbering citizens, an awakening with several meanings. I would watch the movie again just to see what else I can pick up that I may have missed.

Lol. I just wrote an epic. Kudos to those who made it all the way to the end.

What we believe in?

Today, the weather was mostly sunny as I drove to classes to take the first in a series of four midterms. Yet for some inexplicable reason, all the clouds that were in the sky seemed to be centered over the area I live in. So much for the relative accuracy of the weather forecast.

I'm sure you're all thinking it: He's talking about the weather. Bloggers don't talk about the weather. Talking about the weather means that his creative juices are running dry, and he is grasping at straws (or anything else) to come up with a subject to post something on. There goes the quality of his blog. Time to find another blog to read in its place. *grin* Ok, maybe you're not thinking that.

I assure you the river of creative thought hasn't run dry. I have not lost my will to write about my feelings, as I suspect the only way I won't feel anything is if I am dead. Much as I wish I were so, thanks to the events going on in my life and all these wonderful midterms, God has a wicked sense of humor (the paradox of what I just wrote really amuses me), so I am most assuredly alive. All that stuff about not bearing more than you can handle and such. But, I didn't start to write this because I wanted to share aphorisms with everyone.

I started to write because I wanted to share this slightly amusing (to me at least) event that happened during my day as I drove to class. Which has to do with the fickle weather. (Wasn't it in the low fifties last week? Now it's in the twenties.) A small and inconsequential event in my life that I took notice of because I felt a great amount of amusement as it happened. And to share the thoughts they prompted afterwards.

So, I was driving to class, and on the way out of my neighborhood, I noticed that the sun had come out and seemed to be leading the way as I drove. The thought that the heavens had opened up and lit a path for me to follow came to my mind. I was chasing the fleeing ray of light in my steel chariot. I chuckled at the ridiculous nature of this thought.

And then, I returned to my senses, thanks to the wonders of science, I realized that I must be following a fast moving cloud that happened to open enough of the cloud cover directly over me to shed light over me. Much of the mystery and grandeur was removed from that unwitting realization. A kind of lost innocence.

Instead of feeling a tiniest bit important and special, I made myself realize that this occurrence had no real meaning. It was merely a coincidence. It also caused me to wonder. What is it about faith that gives people meaning? Where does hope, or belief that something exists even though we know that we shouldn't expect it to, have its place in this world?

We have come to a point where we try to find meaning without faith in our lives. For those who eschew faith based meaning, where is meaning to be found? If there is nothing to work for once we are dead and gone, should we take meaning by the things that we achieve? And once we attain the goal we seek, do we set our eyes upon some new goal to achieve? Is achieving some task or gaining some material goal how we find meaning? I find it difficult to believe that all there is to life is getting to the next highest hill. Pretty soon, you get to a hill you can't get higher than. Then, what will you do to still lead a meaningful life? If you were the richest person in this world, what would you aspire to?

I then wondered to myself, what meaning do I seek? In spite of my faith, what else is there that I hold as an important reason for continuing in the face of difficulties? If I were suddenly to learn that my faith was some awful joke, where would I go to find meaning for my life? As I change and adapt to the new things that are happening to me in my life, what is it that I hold closely to myself that gives me meaning? When, heaven forbid, some new and more difficult part of my life approaches, what is it that I believe in?

I don't really know. There are no simple answers for this question. No pithy solution that makes perfect sense. As much as I can analyze myself, I know I have not come close to plumbing the depths of my own being, let alone understanding the world around me. Perhaps, in a time to come, I might know the answer. Until then, I continue to explore, maybe learn something new as I go about living and seeking that meaning I desire.

Nothing to see here.

I must apologize for this pittance of a post, as I have a pile of midterms this week and next, so I have been trying to study for them. If I make it through all of this, I may banish the letters C, E, F, I, L, R, V, W, and Z from the alphabet. Heck, since I am at it, I might as well banish them all. There's no need for them. We did quite well without them in the first place.

I hope I will need a break and take some time to write something substantial by Wednesday, but I don't want to set a precedence by actually promising anything. Fear of commitment and all that. ;)

Careful, I'm fragile

I hadn't realized how emotionally brittle I had become until a friend tried to break the news gently to me that the internship at this company I am applying for might not take into consideration that my work experience prior to getting my degree as something worthy of consideration. Nor see that my experience is an added bonus in accepting my application which distinguishes me from all the others. Or see that by showing my utility and adaptability in a constantly changing environment, I am more suited to learn the necessary intricacies of the job demands.

I tried to talk my way around his dose of caution. I tried to explain to him that I could learn anything that would be needed, and that by the merits of my past experience, I could do more than the average starting engineer. He sat there nonplussed and repeated that it might be seen as experience that wasn't related to engineering, thus wouldn't be any advantage at all. I was devastated.

You see, I need to have them accept this past experience as an advantage. I need to feel that I am special and unique. I need to know that this transitory defeat in my life is exactly what it must be: temporary. It just showed me how truly desperate as well as how disconnected I have become in my need for a paying job.

It may be that my optimistic attitude, to keep moving forward, is actually masking the reality that all is not right in my world. That in my optimism, I am distancing myself from the hunger, the edge, that I need to get the job at all costs. Worse of all, I am awakened to the realization that I may be letting my optimism blind me from seeing things as they truly are. That, due to my previous work experience, I am content to stay in the ambiguous world of being unemployed, instead of the cutthroat world I left behind in the flames of misfortune. I'm disappointed by this discovery and the creeping apprehension that I may not be doing enough, despite my need.

How unwelcome this realization is, and yet, in light of my recent near breakdown when my friend tried to inject caution into my desperate delusion, closer in alignment to reality. I hesitate to take the time to think on this and truly understand what it is that I desire and what it means for my future plans. I have been so focused on finding a way to make ends meet that I haven't seen that I may be setting myself up for a stupendous fall.

Time to face the cold hard facts. Time to make a decision. I wonder if there is any wisdom in posting this. I don't want my desperation to snowball by causing others to feel my anxiety unguarded. Yet, where else can I go to share what I am thinking and most certainly feeling?

Peeking through the veil of innocence

Last night, I was looking for a *gasp* floppy disk from my first round at getting my four year degree when I once intended to be a computer scientest. I was getting frustrated with the compiler being foisted upon me by the Engineering department at the college I now attend. This particular compiler has a copyright date of 1990. I was thinking that if I could find the compiler I used in the past, I might actually be able to use some more modern syntax instead of the 15+ year old stuff I am currently using. After alot of searching, I didn't find the compiler I was looking for.

I did, however, find some essays I wrote for English 101 when I was a freshman, and still in my possession since I am such a packrat (I inherited this from the maternal side. The basement has been rechristened Mom's warehouse). You know how you can think you were better when you were younger, and use that as a reason to spur yourself in to doing things you "once" did better in the past? Well, let's just say after reading those essays, I have a greater appreciation of how much I have matured and refined my abilities in the past eight or ten years. Especially in my writing skills. I promise you that I am doing everyone a great service by not even thinking about sharing them.

Don't get me wrong, I could clearly see the insouciant attidude that I still have now. But, if I were to grade that essay now, I would have skewered a budding ego before it could have bloomed. Oh, where to start. Hrmmm. I should say that I wasn't a bad writer then, but I could clearly see some areas that could be improved. To start with, I have this habit of just blathering on about what ever crossed my mind as I wrote, yet somehow manage to tie it all together. I still do that now. Only now, I actually polish it and cut inconsequential pieces out. (Also known as editing in some circles.)

In reading these essays, seperated by so much time, I couldn't even follow my own train of thought. I hop around without a thought of seguing from idea to idea. I could also see the introspective nature I still harbor. Also clearly exhibited, was the unbridled exuberance for life that I don't often exhibit now. And the list just keeps growing as I think about it. So little time has passed, and I wonder to myself how did I come by this change in my style of writing?

I know the answer, of course. It began when I started working in the corporate environment. Emotions had to be restrained, and exuberance had to be muted. Most of all, harsh lessons would be learned there. I had to learn that writing a memo in the midst of great irritation was a bad idea that only earned me more resistance the next time I had to deal with that person. (I have since developed a habit which resolved that by writing the letter, and then coming back to it an hour later to tone it down.)

In this environment, it seemed to me that Machiavelli's The Prince was widely read by management. Which taught me to be wary of the phrase, "I am here to help you and if you have a problem, feel free to tell me about it," anytime it came out of manager's mouth. I experienced for the first time the depths that people can sink to when I was backstabbed by some unqualified collegue for a position we were vying for. Also imparted by the corporate culture was the valuable lesson on how to write bland memos that could make my point without seeming to. (By far the hardest thing I had to do, and I suspsect I still need to work on this one.) Now, I know that not all places are like that, but as it always is with your first time experiencing something, the experience leaves an indelible mark upon you, which you use as a yardstick to compare all other similar experiences against.

I don't even know why I am sharing this except as an observation on how much I have improved, and to show that the changes do make me better, which validates my previous post further. Oh yeah, it was to share the embarrassment I feel over the amateurish nature of those "well written" papers from the other side of that veil of innocence and idealism. I was so embarrassed upon reading them that I was actually blushing. I wanted to load up the essays on my computer and re-edit them so that they might be more refined.

I think I will keep them the way they are since they represent a milestone in my life and show me how time has made me better. Especially now, when I think that I may actually know that there is more to learn and that we can't ever stop learning. Time to find that silly compiler so that I can take this one out back and put it out of its misery. Good thing I don't age as poorly as this compiler has since I am just a few years shy of being twice its age. *grin*

More about me that you didn't want to know?

Well, today is the 12th of March. The signficance for me is that about six months ago, I started blogging. Much like writing a diary, I am seeing a trend in which, as I am engrossed in the pageantry of each day strolling by, I write far better than I speak. If you were to meet me on the street* and we were to have a conversation, I would not sound even half as intelligent as I think I sound on this blog. Yet, hidden behind my stony demeanor, there is a loquaciousness that ebbs and flows with words and (hopefully) stirs with uncommon meaning.

So, when I woke this morning, I figured I would be pleased to see and thank the first person to visit my site today. I eagerly logged in, wondering who would be the lucky person. Instead, I found this referral from www.google.com:



Yeah. Great. I immediately felt unclean after seeing that. Thank you, google. Instead of bringing me more interested readers, you bring me some sick, demented human being with a fetish for vomit. So much for doing no evil. Apparently, I had suffered from food poisoning last year and wrote about it, mentioning something about puking. Which drew this person's attention to my lowly blog.

My festive mood left me quite quickly with that discovery. I wondered what I could possibly write or say to save this post from the baser desires of the flesh. As I thought on this more, I began to chuckle. My brain couldn't comprehend what any human being could find sexual about vomit (and it's relationship to toilets). The chuckles turned into stifled laughter. Then, I gave in and started laughing out loud. Laughing at this poor person who was so morally deviant to find that to be arousing. Finally, gasping for breath, the inkling of an idea on how to save this post came to me: Ridicule him/her publicly and let everyone see how disgusting he/she is.

So, I post this while taking great amusment over the thought of this person, who probably thinks that they are hidden in anonymity, and their unhealthy fixation on regurgitation. It would take little effort to strip away the number sign and find out the entire IP address. Instead, I will remain content in exposing his/her deviant sexual mores to all my readers. To better laugh at this person with all whom visit my blog.


* I just realized that if you're a regular reader of this blog, if we were to meet, I'd have nothing new to talk about. Talk about the irony.

Words close to the heart

By now, everyone has probably heard James Blunt's You're Beautiful. The song purports to take the feelings of some guy's heart upon seeing this "angel" and put that feeling into words. Instead of trying to be eloquent with his choice of words, he uses the simplest of words to express those complex feelings one may feel at that moment. That unexpected affinity of the heart for someone or thing that is undeniably beautiful.

However, I also recognize this song for what it is: a simple attempt to write a song whose purpose is to melt the woman's heart and makes her elicit that single word "Ohhh!" when she hears it. Think of it as the same "Ohhh!" that you hear when a woman sees a baby that isn't theirs. I think that it is very opportunistic. That doesn't mean that I don't like listening to the song. I think the chords that are played to support the words are unique and do a great job setting the mood for those emotions.

Earlier on this night, I discovered that I have a much greater appreciation for this song. While I was engrossed in studying for an exam being given this coming Monday at Panera Bread, I looked up to see this vision sitting at the table beside me. All thought of studying forgotten, I kept taking surreptitious looks at her and marvelling at the perfection clad in aquamarine and black seated beside me. I was dumbstruck, and all that was going through my head was the chorus to that silly song.

I realized that she was reading from some typed papers and writing something in a spiral notebook. I turned my head back to my "studying" and realized that I wasn't the only one marvelling at this beauty by my side. Two other guys were taking long glances at her while attempting to have a conversation with each other. Eventually, they finished their meal and left, never saying a word to this woman. She continued to work at writing her notes unaware of their notice. As the night wore on, we continued to focus on our work, well, she did anyway, in an almost empty eating area. And still that song was playing through my head!

Before I could work up the courage to think of something to say to her, she finished writing what she had been writing and packed her things together. As she rose, she looked at me, smiled at me, and walked out to her car. At the moment I watched her car drive off, I had the sinking feeling that I had once again let opportunity walk out the door without speaking a word. Those inane words You're beautiful. You're beautiful. You're Beautiful! still playing through my head. And I realized how close to the heart those words really were.

The path not taken.

Lately, as you can tell from my past few posts, I have been suffering from something akin to writer's block. It's not that I don't have anything to write about, it is more that I don't think that those thoughts are really ready for sharing, and they require more revision. It has also been a challenge lately to find time to do anything constructive when there are so many needs in your life.

In the past, in a time when I once had a job, I used to set aside $50 out of every pay check as "me" money. I would take this "me" money and use it when the urge struck where I wanted something that I didn't need. It was my way of rewarding myself with something that wasn't fiscally prudent without wrecking my budget. Granted, it also got raided when emergencies, like major car repairs, struck also.

As you can figure out, in about a year's time, that's enough money to buy a decent laptop. Or several game consoles. Or that new toy, I mean, gadget that came out. With this money, I was able to satisfy part of my desire to own things I couldn't afford to have but didn't need. Such as buy that nice bicycle that I have mentioned previously. (Which, according to forecasts, may be used this Friday, if it gets as warm as it is supposed to.)

Now that my budget is quite an interesting shade of red (as opposed to black and free of debt), well, there isn't any "me" money to be had. I must console myself with the trite sounding promise, "When I get a job again, I will get that." Instead, I am now prioritizing my needs by how urgently they require my attention. As in which credit card bill needs to be paid more urgently today?

It has been an interesting February. I hazard to guess that March will be more of the same. I have already used up a ream of paper in printing resumes and oddly, even though there are jobs to be had, they are only interested in full time employees. Which leads me to a great dilemna: Do I quit school and go back to working to head off the spiralling debt?

What a waste of a year and a quarter as well as tens of thousands of dollars. I say this because it is unlikely that the position I take will permit me to take more than night classes. For an engineering degree, a year and a half's worth of classes that I need to finish can stretch out as much as a decade due to scheduling of classes offered and whether or not the job I accept will permit me the time to take the classes. I spent four and a half years at a company that wouldn't permit me to take time off to go to classes. I fear that my next employer will be as immovable.

Perhaps this is merely a case of what ifs. Sadly, I must consider this as a real possibility when I prioritize my needs. I have been agonizing over this for several long weeks now. If I don't quit my education, I won't have money to pay off the ever increasing debt. This will cause me to enter the hellish place of being constantly harrassed by debt collectors. Somehow, if I make it through these few months, I will be able to get a summer job and start earning income again. In the end, I will likely be an engineer.

If I quit now, I can count on the money I paid for this semester (you only have one week to drop classes without financial penalty) not being recouped. In getting a full time job, this means I won't have time for my degree, postponing the completion date and diminishing the likelihood of becoming an engineer. If not ending the opportunity altogether. Each option is fraught with implications and consequences.

Worse of all, my grades have slipped because I have not been studying, I have been worrying. I am saddened and disappointed because I suspect I know what my decision will be and don't want to walk that path yet. A real question for me has been which of these two choices is the lesser of two evils? Much like the poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken, I find that I am choosing a path that will not permit me to walk down that other path, and I wonder if this decision will be something I look back upon with similar regret, because it will be the difference.

Uneventful weekend.

I've been really busy this weekend doing the exciting task of classwork catch-up. It's amazing how fast you can fall behind on 100+ labs. Add to that, the fact that we actually have had some warmish weather, I spent a good portion of the daylight hours doing car maintenance. With that information, everybody can see that I had one of the more exciting weekends ever.

Probably the most exciting thing about this weekend is that even though my stomach, acting much like
*Audrey II, has been demanding food. Then, when I stop doing what I am doing, get up, and finish preparing the food, I stop being hungry. This has been happening all weekend. I've been drinking lots of milk and orange juice to make sure I get something inside of me, but I haven't eaten anything solid in almost forty hours. It's also been interesting because I have been drinking lots of coffee too.

If you have ever had the opportunity to drink lots of coffee on an empty stomach, you will know how distracting that experience is. For those who don't know, I will attempt to describe the sensation:

Imagine feeling very nauseous, your head keeps expanding and shrinking in the most unexpected of ways, your heart is racing, your palms are dry, yet they are moist at the same time, you feel hot one moment, then cold another, your stomach keeps roiling and making I am empty noises, and parts of your body have these uncontrollable tremors.

Much the same happens when you quit caffiene cold turkey. Very interesting compound, caffiene is. And without it, I would be incapable of functioning at the rate I am currently going without burning out entirely.

I've also been working on this software problem on my own time that allows me to go to any computer with a CD and by placing it in the computer, boot up a snapshot of my computer, thus allowing me to work as if I were in front of my own computer all the time. What a frustrating and time consuming thing it is to make this idea work.

In comparison, getting food inside of me is probably going to be easier. Lol. I should be checking other blogger's sites, and posting comments on their new posts, but I am all wiped out. Perhaps tomorrow, folks.

* Image courtesy of www.filmsculptor.com

My turn in the kitchen

So, as a christian who observes Lent (yes, I am all mixed up here), I have chosen to forgo animal meat (but not fish). Inspired by Jamie and Belle's desire to share some tasty recipes, I decided to enter the kitchen and express my creative genius. I use genius here very loosely. Especially in light of the fact that I usually enter the kitchen to move the prepared food to the table for consuming it. I'm watched very closely when I do help in the kitchen to make sure I don't add parts of my hands unintentionally into the meal. Or eat the ingredients before they make it to the meal. I'm often guilty on that count.

For this soup (it's really a stew, come to think of it), I chose to make my life easy and get most of the veggies out of a can. Originally, I bought a pound of carrots, but they were somehow declared deficient and were "removed" during the preparation of the carrots. Yeah, I ate them. Or fed them to the dog who sat expectantly waiting for pre-dinner scraps. (What a mooch.) This soup stew was very easy to make and took me less than 45 minutes from preparation to picture taking. Cleaning the mess I made took me much longer.

Amazingly, the stew came out great with this creative mix of some of my favorite foods, like pasta, corn and carrots. I think the best part of this recipe is that it has much lower sodium, compared to premade soups in a can. And it was both crunchy (the corn) and filling (the pasta).

So, here it is:

Fish and Veggie Stew

This serves 6-8 people (or if you're like me, it serves 4).

Ingredients:

4 to 6 carrots about 8 inches long
1 16 oz can of crisp scalloped sweet corn (white or yellow)
1 14.5 oz can of sliced, peeled unsalted tomatoes
1 6 oz can of golden sweet peas
1 6 oz can of solid white albacore tuna
1 lb of orzo pasta
1 16 oz container of low salt chicken broth (I used Swanson's)
ginger powder
thyme powder
salt
fresh ground pepper

Preperation:

Place about 16 to 20 oz of water in a pot and bring it to a boil. When it boils add a tablespoon of salt.

While waiting for the water to boil, wash, peel and slice the carrots into thin discs about 1/4 inch thick.

Add a cup of orzo into the boiling water and stir vigorously for a minute to make sure they don't stick to each other. Place lid on the pot and keep an eye on it.

Place all of the chicken broth into a 2 and 1/2 sauce pan and place it on the stove at medium low heat. Place the carrots in and allow the broth and carrots to simmer. It is done when you can pierce the carrots with a fork all the way through. Add seasonings to your taste preference.

When you have done this, wash and open the cans for the rest of the items in this recipe. Drain all of the liquids in the corn, peas and tuna. You will be retaining the liquid that comes with the tomato slices.

When the carrots are ready, add the corn, peas and tuna into the sauce pan with the carrots. Break the tuna apart into bite size pieces. Bring this to a boil.

When the orzo is ready, drain the water out, rinse off the excess salt, and add the tomatoes and liquid to it. Gently mix them together. Bring this to a boil.

When both have boiled, add the carrots, broth, peas, corn and tuna to the orzo and tomatoes and gently stir the mixture together.

Allow it to cool and then serve!