Works in Progress
Wavy scarf for Christmas present in Manos del Uruguay (mostly on the shuttle, so it's slow going)

Current Obsession
Head.Must.Stay.Above.Water.

Last Google Search
Airline prices from Sacramento to Memphis - my parents have both sold their houses!

Woo-Hoo!
We have tickets for the Old 97's on October 16! Happy anniversary, honey!

Loving
My Netflix queue, which saves me from real TV

Munching
Burritos with home-cooked pintos, sharp cheddar and spinach

Cooking
Roasted peppers with crumbled queso fresco

Garden stuff
My poor garden - totally neglected and dry.

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August 2004

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Many thanks to:
Diaryland
PixelScripts
Artwork © Lian Quan Zhen

Previously...

i got a new attitude - September 24, 2004

- - September 22, 2004

- - September 20, 2004

Is this thing on? - September 20, 2004

- - September 15, 2004

November 21, 2003

November 21, 2003 - 1:26 p.m.

Yes, I owe you details about the concert - if only to make Tobic happy - but there's something pressing on me that's more important.

I'm an only child. Yeah, yeah, all the assumptions about single kids fit: I'm selfish, spoilt and assume too much responsibility. But I also have always been jealous of siblings. As much as families can be horribly complicated and hurtful, there's a bond that arises when humans are raised together - an imprinting, if you will - that isn't formed any other way. And for a long time I was jealous of those who were close to their siblings. I thought I'd never find someone to love in that way.

Now I have.

Readers who've been around a while will remember Nom de Plume. (No, no linking; doesn't feel right.) For those who are new, you should know that we met online just when J and I were breathing our last. Nom, without knowing it, saved me. He was funny and bright, sexy and crafty. He made me laugh to no end. He could talk me into almost anything - including taking off my panties one night in an alley while walking home alone. I fell asleep to the sound of his voice often. When we finally met in July, I adored him instantly. The man just oozes love.

It wasn't the same for him, and that's his story to tell, should he ever decide to. What matters is that when we didn't work out as a couple, I had a very hard time. He stuck with me, which was so unexpected that I forgave him - and myself for not being good enough. We've been friends since. Once we moved past the sex stuff, parts of our hidden pasts surfaced. Both of us have had deeply scarring problems with depression. We've both come close to suicide. Sometimes we talk frequently; sometimes he'll disappear for a week or two, sometimes I will. But I feel linked to him permanently. And finally today it hit me. I love him the way I would love a brother.

Lately Nom's been having a hard time. Very hard. Some of it's bad decision making - of the kind we can all relate to, the FUCK it, I'm in pain, so give me another drink or six kind. Some of it's his past, which includes a huge, life-altering relationship that ended. Some of it's that he doesn't know his value. There's more, but I've made my point. He's hurting.

It's hard for me to help him from here. We're separated by many, many miles. When the thing that he needs most is a warm body in bed to comfort him (no, not sex, duh), all I can offer is a scratchy cell phone voice. And part of this is my overactive ego, imagining that I can offer him any kind of help. I try. I alternatively yell at him (like today) and offer him a shoulder. I don't know what else to do. If I yell too much, he'll stop telling me anything at all. But as I've said before, this is what family is about. It means that I love you no matter what you do, no matter how much you screw up. I love you enough to wake up at 3:00 a.m. because you're drunk and sad.

This is my shot, Nom. I love you. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a brother. You silly, frustrating, talented man. Please, please take care of yourself.

November 21, 2003 - 11:54 a.m.

The best part of my week: Sunday night.

Just when I'm at my worst, whiny and stressed by moneyworkfamily, Scratcher takes my face in his hands and says, "God you're pretty when you smile."

Ah fuck. Cheese factor of 10, but it got me.

November 21, 2003 - 10:43 a.m.

I work with some wacky people. One in particular - I'll call her Dumbass - is borderline slow. She's excellent with numbers, terrible with people. I've been tempted to club her with a three-hole punch on many occasions. Today, however, she provided the sole entertainment during an otherwise excruciating office birthday celebration. Remember now, I work with the campus bigshots. None bigger.

Biggest of the BigShots brought in this horrible toy for the celebration today. It's a mechanical foot-tall cow that jumps up and down, mooing. It would entertain a four year-old for about ten minutes - which of course means that my co-workers were limp with delight. After watching said cow perform six or eight times, Dumbass said to Biggest of the Bigs, "that's the greatest thing you've accomplished as the Biggest Big!" He looked at her, slightly awed by her stupidity. "No, no, I'm just kidding, BigShot."

To which he replied, "So the next time I see you on your bike and mow you down with my car, I'll just be kidding, too."

Swear to god. You can't pay for moments like that. And my comments aren't work-appropriate?!



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