Impact

Blogging has actually made me more private. I look at many of my earlier posts and realize that I used to be much more willing to share the private and more intimate moments of my life with the world at large, when I felt no one was reading or judging me. However, over time, I have learned that throwing all of that out there really is just not for me. The private and intimate things of my life now sit in a written journal in my apartment.

However, I have also found that I have become more private outside the world of blog. Many of the things I normally would have shared with my friends through a weekly email, now go unmentioned, as I do not send out the weekly emails anymore - what with my blogging and all. It is odd to me to think that these friends that normally would have known the status of my life no longer know it, and the reason that they don't know it is so that I can share the less intimate aspects of my life with the general public. However, I started this blog to be a journal - not to share my life with the general public. But the two go hand in hand. You cannot have one without the other - for better or worse.

Someone recently asked the following question to her readers: "What makes you keep on blogging?" As I read through the responses, I started really thinking about the question and I thought, Hell, I have no fucking idea. I blog out of habit. I blog because I have been doing it now for months and it's just become sort of a hobby. It gives me a reason to sit down and write about me and my life (but not all of my life). It gives me a chance to share random tidbits and thoughts with whomever feels like reading about them.

However, I see that my purpose in having a blog has morphed - mostly out of necessity. My blog is no longer a complete journal for me. It is now my forum, to spout off any meaningless drivel I happen to feel is worthy that particular day. It no longer is an effective means of keeping my friends informed on my life, as there are so many aspects of my life that I cannot share through blog. It truly is, more than anything, a hobby that I have kept out of habit - the same way I still catch myself looking at coins, on occasion, after having collected them during my childhood. It is a hobby and an exercise in writing. However, it does not exactly fulfill the goals that I initially began it for. For example, if I were to write an update on my Thanksgiving Holiday, so much would be omitted, as to completely obviate the entire reason to write about the holdiay in the first place.

Frustrating Yet Rewarding

The more I thought about this little news piece I stumbled upon at BoingBoing, the more I couldn't resist posting about it. It almost made me wish I had gone ahead and started my own IT business, almost as much as when I learned that our IT guy, who is probably no older than 21, drives a top of the line Lexus. All those years of studying law, wasted.

My weekend was rather frustrating on certain levels, and rewarding on others. The frustrating part was all Christmas shopping related. I went to about six card stores, and two malls looking for presents before I gave up and went home. Normally, holiday shopping is pretty easy for me and I come up with all sorts of great gift ideas for people. This year does not seem to be going so smoothly and is frustrating me quite a bit so far.

I did, however, take my cell phone in to be looked at, as the ear piece jack has not been working, and I hate talking on my cell phone in the car without my ear piece. It leads to far too many tense situations for everyone involved. In any event, the guy at the store totally hooked me up and I will be getting a new phone very soon for practically nothing - and no I didn't have to sign a contract.

In addition, I saw Harry Potter, started Pride & Prejudice, and got practically everything I need for making a great big Thanksgiving feast - including cranberries. Although, I refuse to brine my turkey, even though I think it would be delicious. It's just too damn hot down here to keep the brine cold long enough for it to take effect. I suppose I could try doing it in a garbage bag and shove the whole concoction in a great big cooler, but I simply am not prepared to unertake such an endeavor. Perhaps next year I will try it.

Road to Recovery

Last night marked the end to my first semester of teaching future paralegals. It was rather anti-climactic. I had finished the bulk of the material the night before in a makeup session that was a bit of a fiasco, for several reasons. To start with, the school never informed my class that we would be meeting in a different classroom. However, even if it had, the room that the school assigned me for the makeup class, belonged to another class. So we were forced to spend one half hour searching for a new classroom, and eventually making friends with a nice cleaning lady who opened one for us.

Last night was mostly just for me to handout their take-home finals, which they have through the 30th to complete. There was quite a bit of nervous energy - much like I am sure there will be at 12:01AM, tonight, when the mighty Harry Potter takes to the silver screen again. I believe I will have to postpone my seeing of the young Potter lad until this weekend, however. As I am to see it with my little brother at a special screening on Saturday morning.

The remainder of my weekend should be fairly dull. I hope to finish Fletch, Too so that I can begin Pride & Prejudice (incidentally, I saw this flick the other night and really liked it), get some shopping done, and get some rest and sun. I really got into reading the Fletch novels because of Kevin Smith. As some of you know, I have somewhat of a man-crush on Kevin. It's not really all that I suppose. I mean, I almost never check the guy's blog and I hardly know what the cat is doing anymore. However, I just think he's one of the coolest writers/directors/producers/actors out there. He always seems to be either turning out a new great film or helping up and coming actors or putting out a new comic or doing something cool. In any event, he is known for his ability to craft dialogue, and he attributes his ability for this to his reading of the Fletch novels. (At one point, his next film was to be based off of a Fletch book and Jason Lee was to play the leading role. Somewhere along the line, this idea died, as did his Green Hornet, I think.) When I learned this, I decided I should try reading a Fletch book or two, as I love good dialogue. I bought every novel in the series that received a 4 or 5 star review on Amazon. So far, I have yet to be disappointed. The books are just so much fun to read.

I bought Pride & Prejudice for several reasons, not the least of which is that you can now get literary classics for about $5. I think this is the coolest thing ever. I can go and buy some of the most loved classics of all time for less than the cost of a lunch. Instead of paying three times as much and trying my luck with some new up and coming author, whose book I may end up hating. After all, one needs something to read in-between David Sedaris novels.

The new decongestant and antihistamine the doctor has me on seems to be doing its job - both in drying out my sinuses, in a slow and steady process (I wish my ear would clear) and in making me rather dizzy (one of its listed side-effects).

My Medicated Weekend

There was one other side effect to me taking prednisone that I had forgotten until this weekend. It makes me really depressed. I could not figure out what the hell was happening until it suddenly occurred to me that the same thing happened when I took it in undergrad. Good times. However, it did probably assist me in managing to sleep no less than 20 hours on Saturday! I don't think I have ever slept that much in my life. Fortunately, my time with prednisone has now come to an end. Although, I still remain rather congested. Not to worry, though, my doctor just called and they are phoning in a prescription for me as we speak. Man being sick is expensive.

My weekend did afford me some waking hours to check out some current events. I personally get annoyed, and this could be the drugs talking, with all this back and forth now about whether certain Congressmen were duped into entering the Iraq war. I cannot help thinking as I listen to it all that I knew there were no weapons of mass destruction before we invaded. How could I possibly be smarter than all of our elected officials now crying foul?

As I recall, the proponents of the war actually began their campaign for battle with the argument that democracy must be brought to the Middle East. Clearly, there was a segment of the population that thought invading Iraq was important even before the idea that weapons of mass destruction may exist over there was advanced with any insistence. However, the initial arguments for invading Iraq did not play tremendously well with the media and did not seem to foster a tremendous amount of public support. Then is was "discovered" that these weapons of mass destruction were over there and we really needed to invade now. This argument seemed to do much better. Americans got scared. Colin Powell even said, and I paraphrase, If we don't get in there now, we are fucked. I just kept thinking, the same people that wanted to go to war in the first place are the same people telling me that there are weapons of mass destruction over there now.

My senseless ramblings are about as political as I get here. If you want real political action, you should go visit Thomas's Blog. It's much more politically enthusiastic.

Disturbing Knowledge

There are certain things that happen in my everyday life that disturb me on one level or another. For example, knowing people that work in the restaurant business who tell me what goes on in the kitchens, or knowing people that cheat on their significant others on a regular basis, especially when I am friends with both parties involved.

However, one of the things that bothers me perhaps the most is just how many people do not wash their hands after using the bathroom. I always feel weird when I leave the men's room and I see the guy that just left a bathroom stall without ever visiting the sink now using those same hands to caress his lover's face, run his fingers through her hair, shake my hand, pass me the salt shaker or a roll, etc. It is disturbing.

I never really thought there were people out there that didn't wash their hands after going to the bathroom. It just made sense to me that people would want to be clean. I mean forget the fact that you just touched yourself in some unmentionable places, and even if you were to assume that your body is somehow strikingly clean and does not sully your hands in the least, what else have you touched that day? Whose hands have you shaken? How much money have you handled that day?

Granted, there are many public restrooms where you just do not want to use their sinks, simply because your hands are likely going to be dirtier after the washing process is completed than before. However, those, to me, are the exceptions to the rule, and even then, there are ways around it - using elbows and paper towels to work the faucets and open the doors.

Compounding all of this is the dilemma of what do you tell the girls you know about the grooming habits of the men they interact with everyday. For example, when your friend says, "I really like him. He's such an amazing guy." You cannot really respond, "Yeah, and he just wiped his ass before he gave you that box of chocolates."

Pick Your Poison

I finally went to the doctor's today.

"I've been sick for a month."
With eyebrow raised, "A month?"
"Yup."
"We're going to have to treat this aggressively because you have had it for so long. It sounds like bronchitis, but may be pneumonia."
Suddenly I had three prescriptions and orders to have a chest x-ray if things don't improve in 4 days. Who needs alcohol when you have prescription medications?

I think another blogger stopped blogging this weekend. It was all rather sudden.

I think I did a little too much reading about the possibility of the bird flu disease breaking out. I figure if the mad cow doesn't get me, I'm bound to get taken out by a chicken. How sad, taken out by one of my favorite things - food. It's almost as bad as getting a debilitating STD. I suppose if you are a very lonely farmer, you could get both at once. Eww.

I am supposed to have at least three dates this week. I am not really looking forward to any of them, however. I just cannot seem to "get into it". I was happy with my last girlfriend and cannot seem to work up my enthusiasm with anything new. I'm too damn picky. I can't help it, though. If I ever lower my standards, I always end up sitting there for the entire night asking, "Why am I here?" and "Will she get mad if I leave?".

I am supposed to start taking prednisone tonight. I am not such a big fan of this medicine ever since I took it in undergrad and had the most miserable hallucinations. However, I would like my head to stop feeling like it's trapped underwater.

This post should probably have an ending, but I'm too medicated and sick to think of one at present.

Home Ownership in Florida

I heard an interesting theory being discussed the other day.

The weather service organizations seem to be telling us that we are in a period during which Florida, and the Southeastern United States, as a whole, will be frequently struck by major hurricanes. This period is predicted to last for approximately another 20 to 30 years.

If you look at real estate values in Florida, the values for property in Miami were very low about 25 years ago, after it had been struck by a series of storms. The bulk of real property appreciation and building in Florida has occurred during the last 25 years. As such, it is possible that mother nature will be the driving force to keep our real property values in Florida lower and more realistic. However, there is the potential that the two or three decades of storms could drive these values below market value, and make them a great investment opportunity. This is good news for young people in Florida who are hoping to one day own their own homes.

Unfortunately, the cost of insuring real property located in Florida now has become ridiculously expensive, and this is likely only going to get worse. In Florida, private insurance companies consider many coastal properties uninsurable. In response, the State created Citizens Property Insurance Corp. to cover wind damage on those high risk properties. Unfortunately, Citizens has its own issues. Its Chief Financial Officer was forced to resign in September over reports that he had been taking kickbacks and two other executives left after it was found that they had been conducting some shady transactions. Moreover, the company was already running a deficit of $516 million from last hurricane season. It was recently recommended that Citizens needs to increase there rates by 80 percent. Ouch.

So while a young person yearning to be a home owner may be able to one day afford the home of his dreams, he may not be able to afford the cost of insuring it.

Back Again

I returned from my adventures as an evacuee early this morning. I think my favorite may have been the day my friend needed to get her car worked on at the Acura dealership and they gave us a TSX as the loaner car. I got to drive it all over the place and test drive it for about half the day. Fantastic. It, of course, was fully loaded, and had XM sattelite radio in it. I was not a big sattellite radio fan until after that day. Later I got to drive her TL around. I think I need an Acura soon.

Of course there were the obligatory nights out, drinks were consumed, someone tried to convince me that I should go home with them while her boyfriend sat outside, oblivious to it all. Of course there was dancing with incredibly fun folks and delicious meals were served. Blind dates were scheduled for me with all the cute girlfriends that aren't dating yet. However, all of this was merely a distraction from the other events occupying my attention.

There is just an insane amount of destruction around here. So many electric poles snapped, and there are trees and fences down throughout my complex. Trees just snapped or got pulled right up at their roots. I was lucky enough to not have any destruction and to get my power back already, but I know there are a ton of people out there that are no where near as lucky. I still have friends that I have been unable to locate since the storm. It's pretty crazy to drive through a city that has no working street lights. For awhile, there were 3 to 5 hour waits to get gas. The waits have gotten a little less, though, as more power has been restored. Fortunately, I decided to stock up on food before I returned so that I shouldn't have to leave my apartment for much this weekend.

So while I was away, I learned something. A Website is holding a contest for America's Hottest College Girl. I love that women are always willing to be seductive and trashy for a camera. I love that men are always suckers for it too. It's days like these I question why I ever went to law school instead of becoming a photographer.

I bought a journal. I think this should solve my ongoing problems with not being able to write everything I want here. I know that I hate my hand written journals because I flow better with a computer sitting in front of me, but I think that with this blog combined with my written journal, I should be able to do a halfway decent job. Even though my handwriting sucks.

An Imposter

You won't believe it, folks, but there is actually another blogger out there impersonating me! Can you believe that? Everyday I think I have seen all the tricks out there and then I go browsing through a comments section and I see that someone is commenting as me! No, they were not nefarious enough to go and steal my password or anything equally underhanded as that. Instead they merely post as me and link to my profile. However, no one but me would really be able to tell that it wasn't me.

I want to know who likes me enough to want to be me. I know I know. I really am an amazing person, and I'm sure there is just a line of people wrapping around the corner somewhere just to get a look at my devilish godlike and spectacular charm. It's a curse.

This really does sort of blow me away, though.

Unexpected Events

Friday night was ridiculous.

I ended up out with a friend at a local dining/drinking establishment, to watch the game, have some dinner, play some pool, and ponder how I ended up being misunderstood for the greater part of the afternoon. Margaritaville came to mind and I knew that by the end of it all, I would blame myself even though I really was not sure what I had done wrong. I have found that when dealing with the opposite sex, it's often best to choose your battles and this was one that I was more than willing to lose. A phone call or two later and things were magically resolved. Great. Rack 'em up.

One of the tables next to us was occupied by a pretty girl and a young guy with tattoos. He dropped a quarter on the table to reserve it for when my partner and I had finished. Cool. Somehow it then occurred to him that he should by my friend and I shots. Why? Why did he buy me shots? Not wanting to offend him, I took the shot. And then my partner willingly handed me hers as she didn't feel like drinking it. I knew things were about to go bad. I just wasn't aware of how bad.

It turns out the pretty girl works in a clinic counseling heroin addicts. Her boyfriend is a former crack addict, two time convicted felon (would have been three, but his attorney got him off - so almost three strikes), is wanted for murder, but he swears he didn't do it, and attempted murder (he admitted he did that). He has titanium rods in his mouth for reconstructive surgery because he assaulted an officer or two in his time, and has a history of resisting arrest. Look at the new friends I made, sweetie. I'm not sure she was pleased. I don't think I have had that much to drink in at least one year. If I hadn't encountered the mysterious stranger and his companion, I wouldn't have done it at all.

The next day I awoke, and only with a very mild hangover. Yeah yeah, I know, with skills like these I should be an alcoholic. If only I enjoyed it more, perhaps I would, but I pretty much got over that. We made breakfast, discussed numerous earth shattering topics like her overwhelming beauty, and prepared for our trip to Octoberfest. My friend tried to lure me with the beer, but I only had eyes for the sausage. We got a late start, she had a hair appointment, so off she went, with a promise to call me later so we could work out plans for the evening. This was the last time I saw her. I don't know where she is or if she's hurt, angry, or anything in-between. I contacted her family to let them know, and they are missing too. Perhaps she really was too good to be true.

Wilma, that attention starved whore, was clearly annoyed that I was wholly preoccupied with another woman, as she came barreling in at a full category higher than she was supposed to be. Off went my power. Down came the trees. A deluge of wind and rain ensued as I stared out and contemplated which event I would consider worse in retrospect. The disappearance of the woman of my dreams, or the absolute unfettered anger of another. As I really couldn't answer that question, I continued reading, and waited for daylight.

I now sit at my friend's house in a distant part of the state. She insisted that I come, and as she had electricity, food, hot water, and the warmth of friendship to offer, I was really in no position to say no.

This weekend has left me pretty displaced and disoriented, but alive nonetheless.

The Waiting Game

There's only one thing worse than impending doom, and that's waiting for said doom. All week, the eyes in my office have been focused on the Southern Atlantic and the Gulf as we ponder when will it hit and how bad will it be. Even before its arrival, the storm has affected lives, with some people unable to now sell their homes (buyer's cannot acquire insurance when a hurricane is imminent), surprise vacations have been thwarted, and getting gas just to get to work and grocery shopping for the week have required a more substantial amount of effort.

Waiting is often hard. Waiting for the results of a test, waiting for that phone call, waiting for dinner to be ready, waiting for Charlize Theron to realize that she actually belongs with me, etc. It's tough stuff. Fortunately, I have had sickness, work, and other people's blogs to occupy my day. Unfortunately, some of my favorites have been absent.

I also have been reading more of Augusten Burroughs. I have to say that Dry is quite different from Running With Scissors. I think I like the former more, but I'm also happy that I struggled my way through the latter as well. The writing style in this one seems different, and definitely not as disturbing to me as the second one.

And then when my blogging pals, books, and other various forms of entertainment could not keep me occupied, I always had the bizarre news stories. For example, did you know that in Oklahoma City this week a man who had worked out a plea bargain of 30 years in prison for shooting someone during the commission of a robbery. Well our evil genius robber, being a fully devoted Celtics fan, requested that his sentence be extended to 33 years, as Larry Bird's jersey number was 33. You can't make this stuff up, folks.

My weekend plans are up in the air as there was going to be a hurricane arriving here smack dab in the middle of it. I am supposed to go to a Halloween party next Saturday so I should probably go and find myself an outfit at some point soon, and I would like to cook something nice and yummy. I would also like to perhaps lose the soar throat, cough, and congestion as well, but I may just be asking for too much there. I hope you all have wonderful weekends.

A Tale of Two Blogs

Yes, it may have actually come to this.

I started a blog long ago in a galaxy far far away. In fact, it was a Livejournal, and almost no one, except my best friend, ever read it. At the time, I was wasting away in the lovely city of Naples (*BLECH*), and needed somewhere that I could vent my frustrations and unhappiness. My friend also felt that maybe I could somehow meet other similarly situated people in my area through this medium. I only really ever wrote one post and quit. I didn't really like the whole Livejournal format and I was not really sure what the hell I wanted to write.

Many moons later, I created the blog you see today. I suddenly had lots to write about and many things to say. I also really enjoyed Blogger's format and the freedom it afforded me. Additionally, anyone could join Blogger. (I believe, at the time, you had to pay for a Livejournal account.) I instantly met people too. None of them lived near me at all, but many of them were so very cool to read and had interesting things to share. It was almost like having daily columns that you like to read in the newspaper.

This past weekend, it seems a lot of my blogging buddies had tumultuous times. There were fights with family and loved ones. One person deleted their blog entirely, another person may have ended their relationship with their partner, and yet another came close. And these are just the items I know about. I, meanwhile, spent the weekend unsuccessfully fighting a miserable cold. Perhaps I truly got off easy on this one.

I try to never make important decisions while battling a fever. As such, I have made no final decisions as to what to do with this blog. However, what I may do is start two blogs. One will be a Livejournal, as it allows me to restrict who can view it, and the other would be a regular Blogger account, which would contain some of the details of my life. Seems like a rather ridiculous measure to take on some levels. However, it may be an ideal solution. I'll know better when I can hear and speak clearly again and my head doesn't feel like it's beneath three feet of water.

I hope most everyone else had pleasant and happy weekends.

Leave of Absence

Why haven't you posted?

Well I've been thinking about this a lot, actually. In fact, while I was feeling it, Stephanie was blogging about it. I'm not really sure what got her to the same point I was, but it was really interesting to read a post that expressed almost exactly what I was feeling.

I have been seriously considering ending my blog as of late. It's nice to be out there, I guess. However, it is concerning to me that a client or a colleague would stumble upon my blog and learn all sorts of intimate details about my life. It is also concerning to me that it may offend someone I know that sees something I write here. I'm really not sure what to do. As some of you may know, this is something I've been struggling with for several months now.

Varying Viewpoints

Perspective is an interesting thing. You could take thirty eye witnesses and they might all have seen something different. They, presumably, are not lying when they relate their personal accounts of what happened. The simple truth is that seeing something with your own eyes can sometimes be deceiving. Meanwhile, a person may be utterly convinced that their version of what happened is correct and be willing to defend it until their dying breath. At the end of the day, so many of the truths we cling to come down to perception.

It is always interesting to sit back and reflect on the person that we were and what urges and vices drove us during different periods of our life. Self-assessment, like sunlight on the parts of our lives that are rarely afforded any exposure to light, can be extremely beneficial, and at times chilling. Much like a climber that reaches some sort of climax, and stops to survey the distance he has transversed. He is now intimately familiar with so many aspects of the rock face that most would not notice. Now and again you arrive at really cool points in therapy and in life where you realize that you actually are not as far off as you perhaps initially presumed you might be, and that all the work that you have been doing to date was in fact not as insignificant as a pail of water on a raging forest fire.

What is more striking is how much of our view is shaped by our own powers of assessment and our own ability to be honest with ourselves about what happened. The person that denies for thirty years that abuse ever occurred will possibly be able to carry through their entire life with an entirely different slant on what is truth and what is reality than the person that is able to surpass their own denial. The funny part is that no matter what your perspective is, no matter what path you choose in climbing your mountain, it's always right, or at least it is to you.

These past weeks have been extremely eye opening to me about so many things from my past. Some things were just more reassessments or retracings of places I have already been, and some of it has been covering entirely new ground. Because of the possibility that some of the people that my realizations relate to may one day actually read this foolish thing, and they might find what I have to say to be offensive, I feel that I cannot really write here about the specifics. What I can say is that you can look back at entire segments of your life with a new found understanding as to what the hell you were doing. Of course your new perspective could be totally wrong, but when it makes so many parts of your life line up and make sense, you begin to trust that you have in fact found that missing piece to the puzzle.

Notes

When I stop loving jazz, I know something is wrong in my life. When the smooth sounds of Duke, Armstrong, and Marsalis do not provide relief, and Coltrane, Corea, and Davis only bring discomfort, I know things have gotten pretty bad. If the crooning of Harry, Ella, and Jane fail to placate and satiate my desires, it is indeed bleak. (Ok, it's really not that bad at all, and I'm just being dramatic, but it adds to the effect.)

I spent much of my youth abhorring jazz, and confining my music selections to the likes of Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Vivaldi, Brahms, Bach, etc. Jazz was something my mother would force me to listen to, often to lull me to sleep. I never understood what happiness or pleasure she derived from this odd musical form. The only jazz I liked was swing (and it's still my favorite). The rest was all a waste. Fortunately, the musicians and record industry did not listen to my admonishments, and continued to plug away for all those weird people out there that still liked this crazy thing we call jazz.

Music, in all of its forms, is such an interesting art form, and one to which I happily devoted a substantial portion of my youth. It has the power to influence moods and set the tone for an event, a drive, or an evening. However, one's mood can also effect the music that is selected. For example, I had a friend in school who would listen to Sarah McLaughlin when she was feeling sad. Others might play the theme to Rocky, or some other motivational type of music when they feel defeated. Irrespective of taste, the average person is likely to have more interaction with this art form than any other.

There are certain times in my life where particular musicians, songs, or styles simply cannot touch me. Times where I need to stay away from them because I'm not feeling it. The songs are not lifting me and the notes are not touching me. Fortunately, these times are short lived, and I always end up ... singin' with a swing.

Weekend Called on Account of Rain

The best part of my weekend was Friday night when I was at my friend's house. We started going through her volumes of pictures. Eventually, we got her yearbooks out, which she evidently annotates. I'd never seen (or created) an annotated yearbook, with "BFF" and "GFF" and markings as to who was who throughout a yearbook. Maybe this is because I am a boy. I have to say, however, that this adds so much to a yearbook after years. Even your friends who never attended your school can have fun piecing it all together. At one point, I asked my friend who this one girl in her yearbook was and she got all upset. Evidently, this was the girl that had been her best friend in high school, but who had destroyed that bond by fucking her boyfriend. Good times.

Eventually, more people showed up. The cast of characters included a young woman with huge breast impants and very low cut dress. I was warned going in - "Don't stare at her breasts." I tried to explain that it wouldn't be a problem, as I'm used to women with fake everything - I did live in Miami. "You don't understand. You will try not to look, but you cannot help it. I can't even help it and I'm a girl." She was right. The funny part was that they weren't even that great, but you just couldn't help it because they were almost falling out of the dress. You literally felt that if she turned the wrong way, they could spill out. She had even asked her fiancee as they left their house, "Is my nipple hanging out?"

I ended up passing out by about 11:30, and my friends kept drinking until 2. I just can't drink the way I used to anymore. There go my dreams of alcoholism.

I was supposed to go out on a yacht in Naples with another friend on Saturday, but as soon as I got to Naples, it started to pour. So I went home that night, spending some of my leftover weekend reading some more of Augusten Burrough's Running with Scissors. Wow. I don't think my childhood was anywhere near as messed up as his. I still cannot see the humor in most of his tales. They seem so depressing. Perhaps if they were fictional they could be charterised as funny, but as soon as I think of the fact that these things really happened to someone, it just boggles my mind.

I hope your weekend was drier than mine.

Tic Tock

One of my favorite scenes is from My Cousin Vinny.

Mona Lisa: Well I hate to bring it up because I know you've got enough pressure on you already. But, we agreed to get married as soon as you won your first case. Meanwhile, ten years later, my niece, the daughter of my sister is getting married. My biological clock is ticking like this and the way this case is going, I ain't never getting married.

Vinny: Lisa, I don't need this. I swear to God, I do not need this right now, okay? I've got a judge that's just aching to throw me in jail. An idiot who wants to fight me for two hundred dollars. Slaughtered pigs. Giant loud whistles. I ain't slept in five days. I got no money, a dress code problem, and a little murder case which, in the balance, holds the lives of two innocent kids. Not to mention your biological clock - my career, your life, our marriage, and let me see, what else can we pile on? Is there any more shit we can pile on to the to of the outcome of this case? Is it possible?

Mona Lisa: Maybe it was a bad time to bring it up.

Ever since college, every woman I have met has seemed to have some sort of "biological clock" issue; some desire to mate, have children and settle down before it is "too late". For some of these women this desire to procreate is the sole driving force behind them finding a man and getting married, not even caring who the man is at the end of the day so long as everything is in working order. However, for the life of me, I have never really understood this. In fact, not many men I know do. Perhaps it's because of the way we are raised, or maybe it's brain chemistry. One of my friends has suggested that it is because men can reproduce well into our sixties, and so it doesn't matter as much to us. (There's a quote to the effect in When Harry Met Sally, but it presently escapes me.)

Most men I know who are getting married or have gotten married never expressed any desire to settle down and have kids soon, before it becomes "too late". Generally, they describe marriage as something that they do or did to make her happy. It wasn't that they didn't want to get married. It's not that they do or did not love the woman that they are marrying or that they are married to. It simply was not as pressing of an issue to them as it was to her.

I went to a cocktail reception last night for estate and financial planners, and realtors. Quite a lively bunch, let me tell you. All I kept getting asked was, "So are you married?" and "Do you have any kids?" Where are all the young people in this profession? I felt like what a woman must feel when she attends a family reunion, only to be interrogated by her friends and loved ones about why she isn't married yet, and when is she going to have children.

Digging in The Dirt

It sounded like the dumbest assignment I had ever heard in my life. "I want you to make a chart or a list of every woman you have ever been involved with, and list what propelled (attracted) you to them, and then what repelled you away from them." What a ridiculous assignment. I had different reasons for liking and leaving every one of them. It would be a complete waste of my time to go ahead and list all of them like that. However, I thought the same thing when she told me I had commitment issues, and I am paying for this advice, I might as well try it.

After I was about three quarters of the way through the list, I became disturbed. There were a lot more things all of these women had in common at the end of the day than I had ever noticed. Every one of these women had commitment issues at least equal to my own. Many of them only seemed to ever have long distance boyfriends. Many had troubled relationships with their fathers. All of them seemed to have trouble expressing and showing love, and opening up to me. I was getting into relationships that were doomed to fail; still playing the unloved victim role I had learned so well from my childhood. I couldn't help feeling slightly defeated. How far had I really come on this journey of my life, and how much further did I have to go?

"We need to explore your childhood, and the pain and emotions that you experienced in it. Not just the broad strokes, but individual occurrences." I was blank. My childhood? Yeah, I had one of those ... I think. Are we supposed to be able to remember all of that? I remembered everything from high-school (just about the time I stopped seeing my father) onward rather vividly. However, I just remembered vague things about my childhood - the yelling, the beatings, the alcohol, the drugs, and all the madness that was sure to ensue. However, I remembered much of it in the abstract. Reading Augusten's description of his childhood has sounded all too familiar in certain areas.

Slowly, almost like carrying out an excavation, memories have surfaced, and have been carefully brushed off, only to reveal more memories. Scattered and fragmented is my childhood. A sea of memories and emotions that I thought were but a series of unfortunate events best left in the past, have been wreaking havoc on my present. Attracting me to other fundamentally flawed individuals, perhaps out of a subconscious recognition of their similarities to my parents.

The Week Ends. The Week Begins.

So there is some good news to report (other than the Patriots illustrious victory over the Steelers) - no one I knew from Houston died this weekend. Although, I did have my doubts about whether they could withstand that much alcohol for such an extened period of time. Fortunately, they came through like champs. Hopefully, their livers did too.

I spent the majority of my weekend reading, watching movies, and trying to get a solid handle on my life and its direction. All this while avoiding phone calls from random girls I had no desire to speak with and roasting a chicken with a delicious lemon, honey, mango, garlic paste. Quite yummy.

I saw The Corpse Bride and Flightplan. Both decent flicks, but I'm not sure I would ever watch either of them again. Maybe I just don't like Tim Buton's animated classics. It was rather disappointing to me, however, because I had such high hopes. Somewhere in the middle of The Corpse Bride I realized that I had never liked Nightmare Before Christamas either. In fact the only reason I ever thought that I liked it was because it made my ex so happy. So I would find her things with characters from the movie on them to make her smile. Her smiling made me happy. Somehow I associated my liking her smile with the movie.... Very Pavlovian of me. Did someone hear a bell?

My reading would likely not have been very entertaining to most of you. I learned about the relocation of trust situs for state income tax purposes and for governing law purposes. You think that sounds like fun? Wait until I tell you about the articles about Internal Revenue Code section 4958 and intermediate sanctions for tax exempt organizations. (I read the tax exempt articles because I'm trying to help my friend author an article on the subject.) Ok, so I'm a nerd, but I'm a fun nerd. Oh, and I have started in on two Augusten Burroughs novels. Someone named Shane, commented awhile back that if I liked David Sedaris, I should try Augusten. So far I like him. His writings haven't struck that same funny bone in me that David strikes, but he is enjoyable. I'll know better once I get farther into them.

This upcoming weekend, I am supposed to go to Naples with my friend. She says we are going out on a 50 foot yacht. I can't really say no to that. I'm really starting to think I need a digital camera just to chronicle my upcoming weekend. Wherever there is a 50 foot yacht, fun is sure to follow ... and dolphins.

Hurricane Preparedness

"Are they crazy? Do they not understand there is a fucking hurricane coming? Do I just know better because I have lived through one now?"

These were the words of my friend that went through Charley last year, after I told her of folks I know in Houston and the surrounding areas that are staying for the wet and wild fun of Rita. What many people don't know about Charley is that it was a very small Category 5 hurricane. Powerful in force, but small in circumference. The other thing that many people do not know is it was supposed to strike Tampa, 90 miles north of where it actually ended up hitting. Hurricanes often do not hit where they are predicted to make landfall. For example, Andrew was not supposed to hit South Florida.

I was in Punta Gorda a few days following Charley, and the destruction was impressive. An entire electrical system, annihilated. Buildings, signs, trees, things that had been there for years were just gone, and would not be back for a long time to come, if ever. One of my friends lost her new house on her birthday. Happy birthday. My vocal friend from last night, lost a good portion of her house. However, the destruction from Charley was not limited to the one city. 60 miles south, in Naples, there were extensive power outages as well.

A hurricane seems to be one of those things that a lot of people simply do not understand until they live through one. It is not some rough weather. It is not just a rainy and windy day. It is something that can rip apart not only buildings and structures, but families, friends, and loved ones, as well, with no conscious or regret. My friends that survived Andrew knew people that they never heard from again.

After Katrina, I thought all of this would go without saying; that it would be clear to everyone that any storm capable of wreaking havoc and destruction through at least three states is not something you simply laugh in the face of. However, from what I am hearing, I may be mistaken.
To everyone in the Houston, Texas area, I wish you the best of luck, and I advise you now to get as far away from the possible storm track of Rita as possible. Worst case scenario, you get a nice vacation out of a storm that never came.