Note to self: also include a co-worker stats sheets... purrrr... mama like! Hell, mama's in heat!

Spyonit.com

I feel so much pressure to finish all my stories that I've started, like the cute goatee guy, the work environment going to hell, bus rides, and what not. Though I don't know from whom this pressure comes from; It's not like I can tell anyone else is reading my blog. This is unrelated: I hate the way "blog" sounds ... it's such a hard 'g' and forms an unattractive sounding word...blog, blog blog! Like a cyber Dracula; instead of blah, it's blog.

But this blog is becoming more of an obligation than anything. That's just pressure from me. I have so much to type and so little time. As long as I can document some part of my thought or idea, then I can get back to it at a latter time. I think that's been successful so far.

I haven't been able to post, and I have so much to say. But I only have free access to a computer via work, and my work load has increased immensly since Ann left. I am also training someone to know how to do what I do/learned at the very last minute/guessed at, so I've had someone tagging along with me...not very convenient when I'm writing lame, sordid stories.

Straight Arrows in Gaysville, U.S.A. (washingtonpost.com)

Jeffrey Zeldman Presents: The Daily Report

Matt...Rob...

Matt...Every freakin' gay man on Earth sans me...

I don't get it.

-- Clueless and Confused in California

Okay, I can officially comment that all fuckin' hell has broken out at work...

Remember that I work at Gateway? Well the person that I report to directly, Ann Cox, was fired yesterday at 5pm, pretty strange time of day to terminate someone. Her boss's boss, Ken, scheduled a conference meeting with Ann at 5pm, and as they were walking to the conference room, Ken was cracking jokes and being jovial. Then as they reached the room, Ken insouciantly states, "Oh, by the way, today's your last day," and leaves her in the conference room where Ann is

Okay, I can officially comment that all fuckin' hell has broken out at work...

Remember that I work at

Wednesday, October 24, 2001

Gilmore Girls is yet another show I've added to my list of "must see," however, that will prove to be problematic, considering my cable box has been repossessed by the evil cohorts of Cox Cable (Josh would rather have a cocktail than pay a bill, á la Barfly).

I realize I know nothing about computers and programming and web design, and I'm working on that, but two hinderances: one, the aforementioned lack of a computadora; two, people like this! It's so admirable the extent of Meg's experience, though I'm somewhat discouraged; as many times as I hear that there is always and will always be a market for programming/web design/software engineers/etc., by the time I have completed school and obtained one miniscule of experience, people like this will have even more hedgeway. And I'm also sufferring the "am I good enough/creative enough/smart enough to compete in this type of market?" Actually, I think I am. I can't draw on iota of a graphic, I work a mean camera, and Photoshop is my friend! *By the power of Photoshop!*

No apologies: you go girl!

9NEWS.com - Newsroom has a great article; this makes me feel a bit better regarding cat conditions in San Diego.

Josh happy, good thing.

Maybe sometime I'll mention why I've cut Troy and Matt out of my life like Dr. Scholls to a bunion.

I....*Jim Carrey Emphasis* REALLY need to get a computer. Allrightythen...

I mention this, of course the obvious reason - I really need one, because I can't really design anything or practice web development from work. I lose my concentration here, and I fight all day to stay awake, let alone keep any form of focus. I try by reading websites like The American Experience; Race for the Super Bomb. The perfect reading for a perfect world *happy-yet-affected, content-yet-not-really Charlie Brown sigh*

TheSanDiegoChannel.com - Reward Offered In Cat Burning Cases. I cannot get this out of my mind. This is the most revolting thing I have ever witnessed; even more so than the WTC/Pentagon attacks. I will in no way justify, defend, argue, condem, or condone any party's actions leading up to September 11th and since, but I think cruelty on the basis of human to human contact is less malicious than cruelty on par of human to animal. With human to human, there are two parties to be held responsible. I can unequivocally state that an animal has not harmed nor perpetrated any unlawful acts against a human. I cannot imagine such calculating cruelty. And I'm trying not to imagine the severe pain these cats have been through, and I'm horrified to know it will happen again. It is demoralizing to know there are people who find the screaming cries of pain as humorous. This is how psychos and Jeffrey Dahmer's begin their ways.

Okay, today is Day 1 of the official Josh Diet® 2001. I'm more determined than ever to lose 10 pounds in 10 days. Not possible without sacrificing health? Not so, says I!

Novel Security Measures

Sunday night and all day Monday mark a dark, dark time in my life, far more dark than I thought possible considering my disfunctional history. I"ve been told I have a guardian angel protecting me, but I feel quite ungrateful for its intervention, if that's what actually happened, though the more probable agent acting to protect me is my stupidity. Maybe I'll talk about it; currently, I'm too embarrassed to admit what happened, let alone face myself after my unsuccessful actions.

I’m not focusing on my job like I said I should be. In several areas in my life, my actions are contradicting what I’m proclaiming to be my new "agenda." For instance, with my job, I claim that I am concentrating on my work performance and ethic, yet every night I’m out till closing time and coming into work late, my thoughts and attention span scattered. I have been saying that I wanted to get screened today for depression because it’s National Depression Screening Day, yet I wake up as late as possible to still make it into work at a decent time, forgoing my depression screening. I took a cab to work today that cost $40, money that I shouldn’t be spending. It’s weird though about missing the screening…lately I’ve been feeling very maniac – I’m so jubilant and optimistic about what lies ahead for my future. This is suspicious since this new outlook on life coincides with the screening, something I should do because it will help me in the long term.

I think Coldplay is the new Radiohead. I love the song "Yellow"; it evokes the same emotions that Radiohead's Tom Yorke does.
Coldplay
"Yellow"

I ran into Mr. cute goatee man last night.

[17-10-2001] He sat down next to me and asked if I was here the night before. I smirked, "Yeah I was - I was the guy you said was cute, but nelly." He denied that he said this, and I basically laughed it off. We started talking, and I found him to be, in retrospect, quite charming. As we flirted, he told me he's 38 and moved back to San Diego from Hawaii. We later exchanged phone numbers, and I walked Dennis home since the place he was staying was around the corner from mine, which in itself is a "it's a small world" story. Dennis is staying with Kerry, a man I had walked home from the Loft about a week before because he was too drunk, and I admit, I was a bit inebriated myself. I ended up staying the night at his place and ordering Domino's pizza, ill-spent money; I had one slice and the rest remained out all night and had to be tossed the next morning. Kerry and I had fooled around a bit, but nothing happened since I wasn't really interested in him, a lack of interest exacerbated by the drunken stupor he currently exhibited.

I said goodnight to Dennis and promised to call him in the days to come.

The History Place is a really cool place to go if you have any questions or any interest in History.

Yes! Finally I've figured out the problem of my archive. Woo, that sounds philisophical. Well, more like a Sarah McLachlan lyric: "I am the archive of our failure."

Uh oh…I canceled dinner with David and his friends to work overtime, and he was very nonchalant about my it, more cavalier than usual. Yesterday, I kissed him goodbye as he dropped me off at Troy’s, and he gave me a peck with no emotion involved, an anti-climatic "kiss of death." I can tell that we’re going to be losing contact again – my interest waned after our first weekend back together – but unlike last time, I won’t begin to pine for him after a few months go by. I think I needed this – randomly running into him at the diner in Mission Hills, getting the first 3 numbers of his cell phone that eluded me, hanging out again – so I could obtain some closure to the whole ordeal. Yes, I say ordeal; the man is a severe alcoholic, and although he is incredibly sexy – a lumbering 6’3” with a deep, resonating voice – I can’t deal with someone who has a cocktail at 6:30 in the morning. I really cannot be with someone I don’t respect, who’s goofy in a Gomer Pyle way, reminind me of all the dorks I dispised in high school and in boot camp. Pretty strong words, but I strongly feel that this is a bad match. I can’t deal with the prejudice his friends harbor because of my and David’s age difference (note: I hope that’s grammatically correct. I tried writing ‘David and I’s age difference,’ but a first person subject with a possessive doesn’t sound too intelligent).

I’m so excited that Dee Ann wants to write an online diary like myself!! It’s a great way to see what she’s up to without ever having to talk to her – I’m kidding! Seriously, in times when I’m too busy to call (but if I’m too busy to call, how do I have the time to make frequent posts, Josh?), I can check in with her and see what Dee Ann’s new damage is ("Heathers" reference), and vice versa. She has a Masters degree in writing and loves to write, so I’m sure she’ll have witty, life-altering things to say, heheh. We met for cocktails last night and had numerous conversations on many different, sometimes fickle, subjects like, “How big do you think that guy’s dick is?” or “I bet he’s great in bed!” There was this short, cute Italian man with a goatee that kept checking me out. I was at the Loft (and later the Calyph) with Dee Ann, and she had my semi-undivided attention, but in my periperal vision, I could monitor what cute goatee man was doing. In mid conversation with Dee Ann, I heard him say, “He’s cute, but nelly.” Well then! I’ve never professed to be the epitome of masculinity, but I’m definitely not a “man of steel, heels of helium” epicene sort of guy. But his comment didn't really bother me. I felt like, "Okay fine, I'm nelly. You don't like me, fine. Hey, my loss." But the interesting thing is that he continued to cruise me. I was like, "Okay, obviously you're confused, or maybe desperate since it's me that's the object of your desire." He was so cute! I wasn't offended; this is a sign of progress for me! I'm no longer affected by people's opinion of my masculinity! Wo-hoo. Now, if only that progress to stretch into other esteem issues in my life.

I had an epiphany of sorts this morning on my way to Troy's house so he could drop me off, however, I've temporarily forgotten this self-realization. Okay, engage "train of conscious thought" writing: come on, damn! Think, think. I've always wanted to write a novel like William S. Burroughs' "Naked Lunch." I can't think of this great thought, but if I remember, I'll jot it down. It's something tacit, though, that I feel I've already taken to heart.

I feel a manic period beginning to develop. I’m almost religiously ecstatic about going back to the gym, working out and exercising, and getting back into shape. I’m practically positive that I’ll be able to pay off my bills and hold my creditors at bay until I do. The overwhelming sense of hopelessness I have experienced these past weeks has disappeared completely, though I’m not fooled; the hopelessness lies in wait, anticipating the right moment to pounce and wreak havoc when I least expect to be attacked, exacerbating the effect of my nescience.

Ah ha! Epiphany…I figured out why September’s archive isn’t posting, though I don’t know my it doesn’t show up in my archive folder.

I feel very obsolete at work.

I feel another sinus infection coming. I don’t want another one, and I know how to prevent them – drink lots of water and my sinuses won’t dry out and become infected. I’m trying to thwart my oncoming infection, but I won’t know for a few more days. No beer for me – that exacerbates the dryness.

“I feel, I feel, I feel”… god, all this “I feel” statements. With that in mind: I feel like a caged animal rutting in its fabricated environment. Pacing back and forth, I can’t help feeling like there’s something I forgot to do, like I should be somewhere else but can’t get directions. I’m lost, but I can’t quite realize this yet, like an zoo animal knows his environment is unnatural but doesn’t know how because his doesn’t have a basis for comparison. It doesn’t help that I’m in emotional heat, meaning that I am not really “in the mood” to hook up, but I feel emotionally malleable, easily manipulated into sleeping with the first available stranger, any man who casually shows me one small drop of attention, because I long for a sense of belonging. I don’t know if belonging is the word I mean; I don’t know what I long for, but there is this omnipresent, unnamable desire I have that really haunts me. I know there’s no solace in the arms of a stranger, only the blank stare of emptiness to greet my do-eyed gaze. But having a veritable hodgepodge of hot he-man techno geeks roam up and down the aisles at work is not helping matters. *In a harlequin romance novel fashion* “He casually glancing my way, ignoring my reticent stare, his immediate heterosexual dismissal evident in his bulky departing footsteps as they echo across nearby cubicles. I wittingly hide my pining lust and subsequent disappointment, beseeching my turgid torpid truncheon of tumescence to lay low…” Hmm…..a new career, perhaps?

If you are like me and a newcomer to Law & Order, you have no idea what the hell is going on. One week you watch an episode and warm to the characters, and the next week there is an entirely different cast! This site by A&E will really help you out with character transitions and other changes the show has gone throw, offerring a timeline and biographies for the show's characters, as well as biographies for the actors who protray them.

Okay then... well. My September archive is completely gone, yet in the calendar viewer I can go to any date in September I've posted and view what I wrote. That's really fascinating, in a "I'm so freaking pissed off right now that all I can do is smile" way.

G guy sees a psychologist, requests woman.. later into sessions asks why a woman, g man states he’s g and that she shouldn’t feel threatened and that he’s more comfortable with woman, and woman is disgusted, g man asks if she has children and hopes most likely like her that the child isn’t g cause the child would be in for a harsh confrontation, battle, what not with mother.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I allow myself to fall in love? Why am I so damn shallow about size? Do I still have walls up around me to protect me from further emotional damage. Is David the alcoholic I think he is? We were watching the news at 6:30 this morning, and he had a watery glass of sunny delight which suspiciously looked to me like a screwdriver (a screwdriver is an alcoholic drink – vodka and orange juice. One wouldn’t typically use sunny delight as an orange juice substitute, but it can still be done).

The effects pop-psychology has had on psychologists and their patients.

We’re now at war, good grief. I do feel relatively safe, but I still feel an undertone of threat while absorbed in my day-to-day activities. I am so afraid of a chemical/biological attack, however, if such a catastrophe should happen, there is nothing that I can do about it, but I feel so powerless submitting to that conclusion. I wonder, though, if I have been inoculated for Anthrax while I was in boot camp…?

I’m developing a love for typography and graphic design and photography. I’m looking into different options I have pursuing these areas of interest. I’ve known I’ve been interested in graphic design and web development for some time, so that isn’t what really distresses me. What does is the fact that I decide to change my “major” every few weeks, and each time with the same vigor and enthusiasm and planning as it’s predecessor, only have the flame of motivation flicker, then suffocate under the inspiration of a new interest. I know computers is the area I will be pursuing. I should really plan on

Great, more shows I really need to start watching: I watched The Sopranos and Leap Years for the first time last night. I wasn’t too impressed with the Sopranos, but Leap Years was amazing, although a bit choppy. I admit I have been awestruck with the “idea” of such a show as Leap Years, but to see it actually come off and make sense – truly inspiring. Leap Years is written by the same creative team as Queer as Folk, and has very well-developed characters and plot lines. Leap Years takes place over 3 specific years spanning 15 years: 1993, 2001, and 2008, and last night, the stories from each year correlated to the other two.

One of my favorite movies, City of Angels was on last night. I was so sleepy though, and coupled with the need to wake up early for work, I couldn’t watch to the end. I guess that’s okay, because every commercial and movie with a love story made me weepy, and the few scenes I did see of City of Angels last night was making me emotionally unstable.

Did I mention Troy’s sobriety lasted less than 48 hrs?

I went to Silver Strand State Beach in Coronado with Troy and Matt – what a joygasm. Beside financial the entire “picnic,” the pinnacle of the day involved birds. I felt like Tippy Hedren in The Birds. I threw a conniption fit and destroyed all the chips I’d bought after repeated requests for Matt and Troy to stop feeding the birds failed. They were throwing food purposely up above where I was trying to nap. I do not like the idea of contracting Meningitis.

Alternate names for magazines:

Vogue:Vague
Cosmopolitan:Provincial
Entertainment Weekly: Weekly Disappointment
Time: [00:00 mm:ss]
Self: Ish
Discover: Cover Up

More to come, I'm sure.

Spinsanity had an article talking about Slavery restitution - I was talking about this a week or so ago.

In Patriotic Time, Dissent Is Muted...interesting.

Pedantic is a great word to describe me. This is scary for two reasons: one is that there is actually a word that describes me, and two is that pedantic is not a flattering term to call oneself, yet I'm excited that I've learned a new word.

I haven’t felt this “needy” and anxious in a long time. Every time I see a sexy guy going by, I feel this overwhelming sense of attraction and desire and need to be with the guy. I haven’t felt this way since September/October 1999 when I went quasi-crazy. Just hold out til next Thursday.

On another note, in some down time I’ve been checking out Amazon dot com and updated my wish list. I discovered this network of book and movie reviewers that piqued my interest in writing. I have several books at home that I’ve read and would like to comment on. The same can be said for several movies – one in particular screams out at me: Urban Legend. God, what an awful movie.

A note for me: Gramatically speaking, what is the difference between using “which” and “that” to join a dependent clause. This site provides answers to typical and some rather complex English and grammar questions.

William Blake (1757-1827) wrote one of my favorite poems:

Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
When thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand forged thy dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dared its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile his work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Information on William Blake can be found here and here.

I watched The West Wing on Wednesday night, and the President’s wife explained how Arab and Israeli hatred first developed. She explained that Sarah, the wife of Abraham, was promised a child by God. As time passed and Sarah grew older, she feared that God wouldn’t keep his promise and urged Abraham to sleep with a servant (slave) girl. The girl became pregnant and later gave birth to Ishmael. But God, not forgetting his promise to Sarah, gave Abraham and Sarah their son Isaac. Upon his birth, Sarah urged Abraham to exile the servant girl and his son Ishmael. This is the root of all the conflict between Arabs and Jews. Bartlett’s wife, however, pointed out that both sons came together to bury their father Abraham when he died.

Who knows how true this is; I've always said that there is some truth to ever myth and rumor.

This history and perspective article at rebecca's pocket:

"By highlighting articles that may easily be passed over by the typical web user too busy to do more than scan corporate news sites, by searching out articles from lesser-known sources, and by providing additional facts, alternative views, and thoughtful commentary, weblog editors participate in the dissemination and interpretation of the news that is fed to us every day. Their sarcasm and fearless commentary reminds us to question the vested interests of our sources of information and the expertise of individual reporters as they file news stories about subjects they may not fully understand."

I've also been exploring MetaFiler, a wonderful place to read obscure news articles and opinions.

Last night at the Loft, Joe Ramirez, owner of Martini's, was voguing to - no surprise - "Vogue" and I laughed, saything something like Joe is the epitome of vogue. Joe denied this, offerring instead that he was just vague.

I tried a few weeks back to find information on UC Berkeley's Computer Science program and experienced server problems; the site wouldn't come up. A few days ago I remembered my interest and tried again to visit UC Berkeley's homepage and I still can't get through...I wonder what's wrong.

Trying to find information on the history of the Dalai Lama, I found this website, but for a more objective source, I suggest visiting Encarta Encyclopedia.

I was looking up synonyms for the word "ultimate" and found several, including desinence.

I'm not in any mood to talk about anything else.

Okay, I guess Greyhound is no longer my official mode of transportation after this article.

Okay I'm seriously frustrated:

1. I have no work to do, nor did I yesterday, so I'm bored to death. I've acquiesced to the boredom and began working on this blog, and nothing is working out like I want it to, namely:
2. I updated a September 11th, 2001, post and it won't show up with the new format
3. Archives for October are not showing up
4. The thrill is gone with blogging for the day

Okay, I've taken a look around other blogger sites, and they don't seem to have an October archive yet. This still doesn't allieviate any frustration whatsoever! (Okay, Josh, calm down, breathe...) [3:55pm 2-10-2001]

The chronology of “mass” psychosis.

A famous comedienne named Thea once said, “They say there’s a skinny person in all of us, but I knew that; I ate that bitch.”

Jennifer Saunders’ Edina Monsoon stated, “There’s a skinny person inside of me dying to get out,” and her mother replied, “Just the one, dear?”

Something I always say: “Hi, you might remember me from the ubiquitous ‘Fat Freaks Four,’ … call me now at 1-800-ROTUND-1”

Why am I sharing this?!! Since 4th grade I've had problems with my weight. Before that, I was very Kate Moss-esque. I have a picture of me posing for the camera with a dog on the leash in a He-Man shirt and periwinkle corduroy pants (I was a very sassy 6 year old!). But when I moved into my Grandmother's when I was nine, I put on the pounds; I weighed 103lbs as a 10 year old 5th grader. Anyway, in 10th grade I joined Jr. ROTC and got "in shape." I've never really understood that term - I'm in shape damn it! A circle and a pear are both shapes! I even joined the wrestling team (not as erotic as I thought it would be). But I went to work at KFC (where they do chicken wrong) and slowly put the poundage back. I got to 210# by my freshman year at UC Riverside. When I moved to Riverside from San Diego, I transferred to a local KFC.

Ironically, it was the result of working at KFC that I lost weight. During Winter Break, I stayed at a friend’s house while I worked at KFC saving up for my Colorado trip. I didn’t spend any money on food or anything; I ate skinless chicken and a few biscuits here and there. When I returned to school a few weeks later, everyone was shocked at how much weight I had lost, weight lost due to a broken heart so I thought. It was actually due to eating only chicken; the Atkin’s Diet suggests a 60g carbohydrate-a-day diet, and chicken has very few grams of carbohydrates if any at all. When school resumed, I began working out at the gym almost every day, cycling and lifting a few weights, slimming down to about 185 lbs. by the time I enlisted in the navy. And after two months of boot camp, I weighed 179 pounds. Although I lost only 5 pounds, I actually lost a lot of fat pounds and gained a lot of muscle pounds – muscle weighs more than fat. I had a 30 inch waist, 48 inch chest and weighed 180#; I was in the best shape in my life.

I was only in the Navy for 7 months, and when I got out in December 1997, I proceeded to gain an unprecedented 40 pounds in 4 months that I now know was due to depression. I didn’t realize that I weighed as much as I did; I see the few pictures taken from that time in my life and I shudder and how unhealthy I look. I moved back to San Diego in April 1999 with the determination to lose weight. I began alternating a work-out regimen and the local YMCA with a modified version of the Atkin’s Diet, “slimming” down to 205#. In September/October I sort of went psychotic. I stopped working out and dieting, slowly packing on the pounds again. I quit showing up to work without notice, and I felt so guilty about work that I planned to leave town with the $200 I had in the bank, thinking I could make it in Los Angeles without knowing anyone or having any resources available. It was really an awful point in my life, the result a culmination of the past two tumultuous years. I went to County Mental Health to speak with an unsympathetic soul and was given a week’s prescription of Prozac® and brushed under the rug. The medication didn’t really help. For a month I struggled until the thrill of the drama in my life wore off, I guess. I turned 21 about 2 months after leaving my job, so I suppose that “accomplishment” was the foundation for even more discord.

Newly admitted as a student of the “bar scene, I learned how benevolently bare gay men’s gossamer gregariousness is. I saw the need to meet physical Gay Expectations, something that made me really sick but was catalyst to do something about my weight. Not only to please other people, but because it was something that was going to make me happy about myself. I committed to the Atkin’s Diet for the entire month of January 2000 and lost 25 pounds to weigh-in at 200#, and was really happy for the first time in quite awhile. I finally felt good enough to go back to the gym and start working out, so that February I joined 24hr Fitness.

I was really happy for the first time in quite awhile, that is, until I met Devon. For once, I was apart of a group of – what I thought at the time – funny guys who knew how to have a good time (read: alcoholics). I was included in things they did – invited to come over and watch movies, called and asked what I was up to – stuff like that. We even had a gold-digger joke, “What’s your credit. No honey, what’s your available credit.” I find that funny cause it’s attitude is completely the antithesis of who I am. Anyway, that joke backfired, and for the longest time, people at the Loft and Calyph thought I was a gold digger. Sometime later while Devon and I were still friends, I complained to him, “Everyone thinks I’m a gold-digger. How can that be? I’m so damn poor and haven’t had a boyfriend in almost 5 years,” and Devon chuckled, “Oh poodle, that just means you’re a bad gold-digger.” (Quick note: I think it’s funny and rather apropos that the spellchecker suggests “Demon” in substitution of “Devon”).

With my new-found friendship, I frequented the gym less and less until I stopped going altogether. And with Devon’s penchant for unctuous delicacies, again I began gaining weight. At this time, my income was drastically cut; I had been temping full time for $14 an hour and working at International Male part time to supplement my bar tab until I got the bright idea to quit the higher-paying job and work at the crappy one full time and go back to school since the crappy job accommodated my hours to work around a school schedule. Because of the drastic cut in pay, my lifestyle was affected. Penultimately, I wasn’t able to afford to go back to school, the final effect being Devon et. al. quit hanging around and inviting me with them. It’s like running a race at one’s fastest and everything is going smoothly, all systems go, then *que Batman sound effects* BAM, head smack first into a lumbering tree. But because of both our association with the Gay Men’s Chorus and the frequency I had to see Devon, it was like being forced to bash my head into that tree repeatedly (as directed). After a lot of analysis, I’m finally realizing some things regarding my friendship with Devon that is helping me “get over it.”

Because of the drastic reduction in income, my membership to the gym lapsed, however, I managed to oscillate between 190 and 200 pounds until recently. In the last 6 weeks, I’ve gained about 15 pounds, and found that I can’t control my urge to eat. In the last week I’ve mellowed down because I’m now aware of this problem, but it’s really difficult because of the pressures I’m currently enduring: a new job location, bills...bills...bills, a quasi-relationship (that I have yet to discuss), etc. My weight gain is also attributed to depression; one symptom of depression is sudden gains or loses in weight. Like I said before, I’m going to get screened for maniac depressive behavior.

I found the list of Banned Books, and here are the ones I've read:

Scary Stories (Series) by Alvin Schwartz
The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
Harry Potter (Series) by J.K. Rowling (I read the first one)
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
Go Ask Alice by Anonymous
We All Fall Down by Robert Cormier
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Beloved by Toni Morrison
The Pigman by Paul Zindel
A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Cujo by Stephen King
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Fade by Robert Cormier
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo A. Anaya
Carrie by Stephen King
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain
How to Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell

What ignorant people. I find it funny; most of the books on the list are all reading requirements in school that I either had to read or another class had to read. There are several books on the list I find surprising, like How to Eat Fried Worms. I read that in like 1st or 2nd grade.

Several things I’m thinking:

Matt and Troy… stupid Troy.

David and a relationship.

Current Events, Hitler, and Anti-Islamic/Arab sentiment

Okay, I’m a little upset with work. Gateway’s headquarters originally located to La Jolla in 1998. I had no problem commuting there by bus, and in fact, enjoyed the kooky antics that would go on while riding public transportation. However, Gateway moved to Poway, with is an old American Indian word for “Big Pile of Shit.” Gateway is located in the 14000 block of Danielson Street or Place (I’m getting conflicting information), and will be soon re- christened “Gateway Place.” Supposedly a bus runs to the 13800 block of Danielson St. or Pl., but I haven’t found it. And to avoid becoming lost in mid-day 90+ degree heat, I had Troy give me a ride to work. I knew he wouldn’t object much since I loaned him money to fix his power-steering fluid-guzzling car. Anyway, nothing works here, which is expected, but I’m still upset. It’s a 50 mile round-trip to work from home, and I don’t have a car, and there is no bus that I can find – I’m not about to go on a peyote induced-like adventure into the wilds of Poway to find a damn bus. I’m really frustrated; when I committed to this assignment from Adecco, I was not informed that Gateway was moving to Poway. And I really love this job. Gateway is such a positive work environment and is committed to giving the best customer service through technology solutions (as I learned at lunch today). I’m excited about all the opportunities in web design and development, plus I report to the most awesome bus one ‘lil gay boy can report to, so I really don’t want to give up on working at Gateway. Troy is leery about driving me back and forth to work due to his car’s fickleness – I don’t blame him. Hopefully, I can convince him to drive me until I get a car. I went online searching through classifieds in hopes of finding an economical (read: under $1,000) mode of transportation. The prospects are good, once I have the money – hahahah! Right.

About the new work digs: I’m a bit jaded about the new work environment. We have fancy art-nouveau desk arrangements that are really nice, but we are now located in a colossal warehouse. Our desks are a coagulated social consortium arranged in a New York Stock Exchange fashion, complete with a small number of Executive offices on the second floor overlooking the massive first-floor layout. As unrational as it may sound, I am so damn paranoid, socially claustrophobic, with everyone being able to see what I’m doing and what I’m wearing (one concern especially about my Jeffrey Dahmer glasses. I have borrowed a pair of pink-tinted, 70s-era Elton John glasses that closely fit my prescription. They are so damn ugly, I’m horrified, but I have no choice since I’m so irresponsible and lazy about getting my own glasses/contacts. So most of the time, I wander this huge complex blind because of my vanity). At our old location in La Jolla, we had 3 floors full of clichéd cubicles with 80s-esque designs and patterns on them – really fashionable. I was in the far corner on the second floor farthest away from the entrance, and when I sat down, I could hide away in my own private world without anyone knowing I was even there. It was kinda-sorta very (oxymoron alert) reminiscent of Office Space.

[2-10-2001] I feel like an ant in a colony; the warehouse is so damn colossal.

Disgusting Topic Alert!
(Don’t read if you value good etiquette and taste and have a weak stomach)

On another note – I think I’m going to rant about men and how disgusting they can be in the bathroom. Our new facility has only been operational since 3pm last Friday (with weekend access only available to the IT department to set-up work stations), and already I’ve found a “mucus dropping” (read: booger) in the restroom. Okay – this does not make sense to me. First, let me go into my own history of this nasty phenomenon.

I first noticed this happening in the galley restrooms in Navy boot camp in 1997. I would be in the process of getting some toilet paper when I look up and notice all these “streaks” Men are disgusting. Why do they wipe their mucus on bathroom walls when there is all that tissue paper and paper towels available.

[to be finished later, I'm sure to everyone's joygasmic pleasure]