The People's Exhibit "A"

2:06am: I have no sense of humor, no larger perspective, no higher purpose to put this in context of and make it okay.

In fact, I've just realized I don't even feel like writing about it.

11:21pm: My favorite question anyone has asked me in the last several months (which was a while ago; I'm just documenting it here so I don't forget):

"Hey, want to see what 1.4 grams of C-3 will do?"

(Answer: rattle windows, terrify cats, shake the front porch, and start every dog within a mile radius barking.)

6:07pm: And the tide begins to turn
Mom and Dad came to get the storage unit key from me, the other day. Dad was very impressed by the fact that I was mowing the lawn, unassisted and unsupervised...and while that makes me tired inside, we were all actually perfectly nice to one another. It was relieving. ...aaaaaand, I can get into the storage unit, again! I stated this in my terms for surrendering the key, and it actually happened. It's a small thing, but I really can't explain how much better it feels to NOT have my parents quailing at the possibility of even the smallest degree of trust in my judgment and responsibility.

11:40pm: In meta-news...
...I'm tired of having my journal be privacy-protected. While I will be discreet about topics that are personal to me or others and mark them friends-only, my general entries are going back out in the open, where they belong (otherwise, what's the point of posting them HERE?) and where I've always wanted them. Many months ago, I set the default to friends-only because my mother asked me to. There had been several instances of my father randomly looking up my journal and sulking over things that I had said. I agreed that this was not beneficial to anyone, and acted accordingly.

At this point, however, I very much doubt that either of them are still logging on to check whether I've posted a public entry, since the last one was on March 24th of last year. And if they are, I don't think anything I have to say could make them any unhappier with me than they already are. Moreover, there's a part of me that likes the possibility, however far and faint, that I might make a new friend.

And that's that.

6:24pm: Dream
In my dream, I was in Fredericksburg. I think it might be some confused version of my grandfather's funeral, because I was wearing my suit, and everyone was formally dressed, but my grandfather was there, too. At some point, I got into a fight with my family, and I got so angry at my father that I just left, on foot, the two of us screaming at each other as I walked down the road and out into the city.

I was worried, because I had almost no money, and no idea how to find my way home, and it was, of course, an extraordinarily long walk, but I was too angry to go back, and had decided that I was walking.

Somewhere along the way, I picked up this girl's notebook, from the side of the road. In it were portions of lyrics of songs that she liked, lists of her friends, random doodlings, and then dozens and dozens of pages in the middle that all had photographs of women's faces glued to them. They all looked calm and peaceful and beautiful, and I found them comforting.

But then I recognized one of them as being an actress who had died, and I realized that all the pictures were of women who had died, and were in fact pictures taken right after they had died.

I wandered along the side of the interstate in my suit, flipping through the pictures, trying to decide if they were still beautiful, now that I knew. I couldn't tell. Part of me thought it didn't change anything, but part of me was repulsed.

Just before I woke up, I had turned past the pictures and found part of a song, and as I was reading it, I could hear the girl singing it, and I was trying to sing along, crouched down in the median, between the trash and passing traffic.

3:15pm: Work
So, after some initial butterflies about working with THE PUBLIC face-to-face for the first time in many years, I've discovered that I actually quite like my new job at the mall record-store. It is therefore somewhat vexatious to me that my girlfriend's every word or thought seems to be regarding how soon I can find a different, better job.

Here's the thing: I've HAD the office jobs with the health benefits and the paid vacations and the respectable skill-set and the cubicles with my name on them. Know what? The health benefits didn't keep me healthy. They didn't stop me from going quite literally insane, right over the edge into the kind of darkness that leaves a basically good-humored, easygoing guy like me rolled up into a ball on the bathroom floor, screaming. The paid vacation didn't make up for what my actual days were like. And the respect of others didn't make me respect myself for putting up with the gradually mounting weight of degrading minutia.

I don't expect anyone else to sympathize. In fact, virtually everyone I know is headed in the opposite direction, and God bless 'em. Hope it works out for you. As for me, though, I'll take a job where I don't have to log anything in a computer or sign any forms before going to the bathroom, where no one wants to have meetings with me about my "anger issues." (Seriously...anger issues? If you've managed to piss me off, it's because you put in some strenuous effort.)

I just want days I can stand to wake up to, nights I can sleep through. Air I can breathe, food I can eat. The occasional CD, a small bag of parts from RadioShack. I can walk to my job, from here, and the weather is getting warmer. For once in my life, I feel like I can handle things, and I don't want to throw that feeling away for another goddamn suffocating office job that I'll hate myself for ever taking, that will make me resent the people I love because "I'm doing it for them" and of course they aren't going to appreciate it. I'm not saying that to be petty or dramatic...it's not reasonable to expect people to venerate you for sacrifices that are invisible and incomprehensible to them.

I don't want to wreck anyone else's dreams, I just want to live a bearable life. Surely, there is some compromise that we can come to, here.

2:23pm: Registered Sex Offenders
I've said before that Facebook is kind of like a social event...a cocktail party attended by basically everyone you've ever known, and occasionally crashed by people you don't. LiveJournal, on the other hand, is more like being with close friends. Close friends are people to whom you can occasionally admit the TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE things that sometimes cross your mind.

SUCH AS:



This is the logo for the Facebook group "Don't Allow Registered Sex Offenders on Facebook."

WHAT ARE THOSE STICK FIGURES DOING?!

-=-

Now, I think I know all of my LJ friends well enough that it should go without saying, but just to be clear: I don't mean to diminish the importance of anyone's pain who has survived sexual abuse. I am, in fact, always astonished by the strength and resilience of people who have been through something like that and recovered, since I suspect it would probably break me for good.

That said: this is amazingly misguided. I mean, uncomfortable (!) signage aside, I think we all know by now that Facebook groups have about as much real-world efficacy as letters written to Santa Claus. And while they might be MARGINALLY more effective at influencing actual FB site policy, I don't think these well-intentioned citizens have really thought things through. For example: how, exactly, would they like sex-offenders to be excluded from Facebook? What possible scheme for identifying Facebook users could be implemented that wouldn't either be horrendously complex and prohibitively pricey (forcing FB to transition to a pay-site), or else so easily-defeated as to be laughable?

The posts from members don't give me much hope, either. Most of them are either blanket denouncements of child-molestation (a cause that hardly seems like it needs a Facebook group to get people to rally behind it) or incoherent, belligerent tirades that sometimes cross the line into rants so murderous that I found myself wondering who was really worse: the predators, or the bloodthirsty, lynch-mob-ready ordinary citizens. In fact, it made me wonder if there might not be some truth to the idea that people most vehemently denounce the crimes they secretly suspect themselves capable of.

Bottom line: NO ONE LIKES CHILD-MOLESTERS. But this kind of knee-jerking, whether it's well-meaning, or not, isn't going to accomplish anything. This is, once again, parents demanding that a commercial or public institution do something that they themselves should be doing. It isn't the ranger's job to stop sex-offenders from entering the park, nor my local Food City's job to make sure no child-molesters shop there. And it isn't Facebook's job to babysit your children...or you. If you don't have the balls to make your kid give you parental access to their account, or at least to talk frankly with them about the dangers of giving personal or locational information to strangers, then it is YOUR fault if something bad happens to your child. That's right, all-American Mom and Dad: YOUR FAULT.

And for God's sake, get a better logo.

7:56pm: TAKE 2
Just to prove that I DON'T EVEN CARE, I'm taking it AGAIN.

Click here.
Take the quiz.
Post your results.
1) What would you do if you found out eyeofmazikeen has a crush on you? See my previous answer concerning Liese and Eric.
2) What rank would liesekins have in a giant robot army? Tactical Commander!
3) Would hogofheaven go out with carneiros? ...by an eerie coincidence, yes, I think so.
4) What would you do if theholytree died? Regret that we haven't spoken, more often.
5) If theholytree and eyeofmazikeen were spliced together, what would be its name? ...Katherine, I suspect. Unless Kate is just Kate, in which case, Katherikate?
6) What do you agree with scarletdulcinea about? The Dresden Dolls, the importance of art to create a livable space/world, the joys of good vegan cuisine
7) Where was liesekins born? Erie, PA, I think.
8) If liesegregory had a superpower, what would it be? The ability to turn her enemies into tasty, healthy entrees.
9) Would you make out with eyeofmazikeen? No, that would make the already awkward love triangle (I've been hooking up with Brian for quite a while, now) even more uncomfortable.
10) What is belgarath42's favorite color? I don't really know, but I'd be inclined to say some deep and regal shade of blue.
11) Is intoafrica friends with skewer324? Why yes, I believe so.
12) Would you set up intoafrica and breathe_out? I think this is a BAD IDEA.
13) What color should hollowrose dye their hair? I think she should dye their hair any color she wants, though she should keep in mind that they outnumber her.
14) Is letincelle related to intransphonemia? Only by the adjoining bridge that is me.
15) Which president would ladiesfromhell be likely to idolize? Teddy Roosevelt.
16) Does breathe_out travel a lot? I seem to remember that she used to go on a fair number of excursions.
17) What is skewer324's favorite band/artist? I don't know that I can speak to a FAVORITE, but he seems pretty fond of some Opeth.
18) breathe_out's eye color? I dug through her journal for pictures, and they appear to be blue.
19) Has abulia been to your house/dorm? Many times!
20) Would belgarath42 be a better ninja or pirate? IT'S FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK. Pirate. Definitely pirate.
21) Would you wrestle hollowrose in jello? Yes, but we'd fix the match and one of us would throw, so we could cash in.
22) If intoafrica took over the world, who would be happy? Everyone except the people who are eager for Armageddon to prove them right.
23) Thoughts on scarletdulcinea? I wish I had mental telepathy, so we could communicate without possibility for misunderstanding.
24) If abulia were hanging off a cliff, what would breathe_out do? She'd definitely rescue her. Later, when I read both their journals, and realized that my sister had been rescued by my Canadian friend who used to play flag football, I would sigh, and wonder why everyone does everything fun without me.
25) What planet should zaarwin_devolve be from? I don't think of Doug as being from another planet so much as from a neighboring dimension. An alternate-earth sort of deal, if you will. We're just lucky he slipped through the wormhole, or whatever, and ended up here.
26) Where did you first meet liesegregory? Either in a restaurant, or at Eric's house.
27) What comic book character would farstrider79 be? I feel like there's an obvioius answer, here, hinging upon his dogged, stoic, deliberate ability to overcome, but I can't think of it.
28) What languages does skewer324 speak? English, as far as I know.
29) Which of your friends should scarletdulcinea go out with? I can practically HEAR Katherine hyperventilating over the triteness and inapplicability of this question.
30) Do you have eyeofmazikeen's screenname? I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME.
31) What would carneiros do differently in your shoes? probably eat better, and get more accomplished.
32) Does letincelle smoke? Not with any frequency.
33) What animal should skewer324 be combined with? POLAR BEAR.
34) Does mukor go to your school? Not anymore!
35) Has liesegregory dyed their hair? I think so, at some point.
36) What animal does liesegregory remind you of? a pheasant. I mean, a pretty one.
37) Are pans_syrinx and ericgregory going out? ...we already covered this! That scenario is deranged beyond my ability to even assess it.
38) How tall is letincelle? Not very!
39) Is intoafrica a nerd? Already answered!
40) Do you think theholytree is hot? I've met few women capable of such grace and presence.
41) What is farstrider79's shoe size? Slightly bigger than mine?
42) Would you ever date letincelle? NO. No, dammit, just because I live in Tennessee...
43) Do eyeofmazikeen and hollowrose go to the same school? Not even close!
44) How long would ericgregory dating belgarath42 last? long enough for me to die laughing!
45) One quality you find attractive in ladiesfromhell? Her ability to observe, enjoy, and not feel the need to comment on what is already obvious.
46) What flavor of jello would mukor be? I think of Brian as being more like the mysterious pink fluff on salad bars.
47) Is carneiros popular? Well, she is with me. I can't speak for the rest of the world.
48) Is ladiesfromhell your best friend? She certainly understands certain things that others do not.
49) Is bililoquy in a relationship? Definitely so!
50) What is belgarath42's favorite game? Being better at games than me.

2:11am: By the end of this quiz...
...I had been forced to contemplate more excruciatingly uncomfortable permutations of my social circle than anyone should ever have to endure. I think we would have all been better off if I had walked away...

Click here.
Take the quiz.
Post your results.
1) Do you think hollowrose is hot? Damn betcha! EmilySarah is the bomb.
2) Is zaarwin_devolve popular? He's known and feared worldwide, at this point.
3) Does ericgregory smoke? Nope! One of many endearing things about him.
4) When did you last call breathe_out? Never did. She hasn't posted in, what, like a year, now? It'd be awkward, I think.
5) If liesekins took over the world, who would suffer? Small-minded people, and picky eaters.
6) Does carneiros drink? Yes, but never to excess, that I've observed.
7) What is ericgregory's favorite food? He's one of those "cyclical fixation" type of people. I've known past answers, but I don't know the current one.
8) What would you do if you found out liesegregory has a crush on you? Have a mature sit-down with everyone involved. Explain that I am going on a lengthy sojourn to Antarctica, and I expect everyone to do some serious soul-searching and have this mess taken care of, by the time I get back.
9) What would ladiesfromhell do differently in your shoes? ...probably a lot! This question kind of jams my brain, in fact. I feel like it would mainly be a lot of meditation, introspection, and possibly experimental drug use, while she tried to figure out how the hell she had ended up in this situation, in the first place.
10) Is intoafrica a nerd? to a degree that is endearing, rather than embarrassing.
11) Has hollowrose been to your house/dorm? Not the one I currently live in, but historically, yes.
12) Does mukor do drugs? FUCK YAA, DAT NIGGA SMOKEZ DA CRAYZEE SHIT, MAKE YO' FUCKIN EYEBALLS TURN YELLOW, SON.
13) Would you set up mukor and ladiesfromhell? ...well, putting aside the fact that I suspect no one involved would be okay with this (especially Kate!), I'm going with "No." I think they could be fast friends, but are unlikely to form a romantic attachment.
14) Is breathe_out friends with ladiesfromhell? So far as I am aware, they have never met, and this is unlikely to change, since Shelly lives in Canada.
15) Does liesegregory travel a lot? A fair bit, yeah. She's back 'n' forth to PA, pretty often, and has visited more exotic locales.
16) Is farstrider79 introverted or extroverted? He won the senior superlative for "quietest," back in the day, if that tells you anything.
17) Are pans_syrinx and ericgregory going steady? ILLEGAL FUNCTION CALL.
18) What exotic animal would carneiros like as a pet? I dunno. Are sheep exotic? I mean, they're not, but are they considered exotic PETS?
19) How tall is ladiesfromhell? shorter than me, but since I've had a chronic bout of trouble tracking her down for quite a while now, I'm not certain.
20) Are abulia and theholytree married? ...this explodes my head. Katherine, meet Mary. Mary, meet Katherine. I can't even hazard a GUESS what the two of you will think of each other.
21) Have you flirted with abulia? No, I just fuck her mom.
22) liesegregory's hair color? Blond! ...I know this one!
23) What word best describes intransphonemia? "Quixotic."
24) What video game does pans_syrinx remind you of? Pac Man. She's killer at that game.
25) Does intransphonemia have a dog? Pretty sure not.
26) Is farstrider79 in a relationship? Not last I checked, but he's a smooth operator, so who knows?
27) Does eyeofmazikeen have a big secret? Probably quite a few.
28) Do you have carneiros's screenname? ...what? Isn't "carneiros" her screenname?
29) Could you see hollowrose and eyeofmazikeen together? Assuming they were both up for a little girl-on-girl, sure! I think they'd get along famously.
30) Did letincelle break up with you? No, but her mom copped an attitude with me, the other night, so I had to bust her in the mouth with a roll of quarters.
31) Are intoafrica and letincelle going out? Not unless they're keeping it WAAAAAY on the downlow.
32) What do you agree with hollowrose about? 1) That my sister is a pretty excellent person, 2) that creativity is fun, 3) various musicky, movieish stuff.
33) Where was hogofheaven born? ...good question. How do you know a guy this long, and not know the answer to a thing like that?
34) Is breathe_out a college student? Nope.
35) Is eyeofmazikeen an emo? She seems pretty anti-emo, from what I've observed. Maybe she gets all mopey when I'm not around...
36) What would you do if zaarwin_devolve died? Cry. Attend the funeral. Burn something down, in his honor. Live life harder, so I can tell him about it, when we meet again.
37) What is abulia's favorite movie? I seriously doubt she could pick just one.
38) Where would eyeofmazikeen most like to visit? Dunno. Kate? Over to you.
39) Does liesekins have a crush on carneiros? Well, no, I don't think so, and isn't that just lucky for all of us? AWKWARD.
40) If carneiros was a superhero, who would be his/her archnemesis? THE DISINFORMER, spreading lies and misleading data in support of the status quo.
41) If hogofheaven commanded an army, who would be his/her followers? Well, ME, among others. I wouldn't miss that for the world...!
42) What would farstrider79 give hogofheaven for his/her birthday? Probably either a good book, or a servicable bladed weapon.
43) Have you ever dated hollowrose? Despite the best efforts of this quiz, no.
44) Is mukor 1337? He's considerably younger than that.
45) Which of your friends should liesekins go out with? Eric!
46) Is hogofheaven single? Nosirree.
47) Is liesegregory athletic? Moderately so. At least as much as I am!
48) Would you make out with liesekins? ...okay, this shit has to STOP, now.
49) What mental disorder does liesekins remind you of? I suspect that neither of us finds this funny.
50) What is mukor allergic to? poorly-supported arguments.

3:19am: Samsara, cont'd
My mother mentioned, last time I was over, that they were considering selling the house in favor of one that has, or could have added, a downstairs living space with full bath for my grandmother, now that she lives with them. According to my sister's recent journal post, they are apparently going ahead with this plan, since the county will not approve an addition.

I have to be honest: I feel very weird about the possibility of my mother and father selling the house. Maybe it's because we moved so constantly in my early childhood (sometimes it seemed like I would barely learn the names of the kids at school, or even in the neighborhood, before it was time to pack, again), but I have a very strong emotional attachment to that place. To me, it's a symbol that the days of forlornly leaving behind yet another attempt at a stable life/world are over. Forever. It was supposed to be my family's house. I was DONE. (I think this has at least something to do with my ultimate inability to romanticize moving away to the big city, the west coast, Europe, etc. As a child, I grew utterly weary and sick of leaving things behind, and I don't think the feeling has ever entirely left me.)

I know every corner of every room, down to the nail that always works itself up out of the stairs, no matter how many times you hammer it back in, to the fact that the bathroom closet is just big enough to read a book in (and, conveniently, has a light for the purpose) to the attic crawlspace access, that I used to have dreams about climbing up into and finding strange extra rooms, or endless mazes of hallways.

...I know it's not really that big a deal, in terms of its effect on my life, and it's not my decision, anyway. BUT. BUT. BUT.

Sometimes I think I am going to split down the middle into two entirely separate people. One of them wants to shed his skin constantly, reinvent himself with with an eye to joy and pragmatism, with little or no heed to the past. He wants to take big chances, cross new horizons, meet fascinating people, do astonishing deeds, etc. etc.

But the other one wants, passionately, to keep everything the way it is, to hold onto every mote of dust that falls in the light coming through the window, keep every memento, telephone number, dried up flower, piece of wrapping paper, mix CD, childhood toy, birthday card, Christmas ornament, blanket, chair, bed and table, to make the damn world stop slipping away and falling apart by whatever means necessary, to sit in the place he lives and never move, never even go out, on the off chance that this will make other people stop leaving, and the world stop changing.

5:06pm: Medicated to the one I love, p4
Thanksgiving went quite well, as did my annual bake-off with Mary and Daniel (and the bottle makes four!) In exchange for overflowing my bounty of yeast rolls, I was fed not once but twice...CRAZY amounts of food, and all of it was great. It was nice having my grandmother here, this year.

But...the day or two after Thanksgiving were kind of dark and desolate. Black Friday is a plague that I make it an annual habit to avoid contracting (in fact, I never set foot out of the house), but this meant I couldn't go pick up my prescription refill, which I had been out of since the previous Wednesday. I had managed to hold up just fine through the holiday because nice things were constantly happening, but as soon as it was over, I crashed pretty hard. I got into a nasty fight with Janice. Later in the evening, I ended up melting down in the car on the way to a party we were supposed to go to, and making her take me home...which sucked, but it was at the time of this incident that my girlfriend suddenly realized that I wasn't just being a whiny jackass.

"I'm sorry. I think sometimes I expect too much out of you. I...you know. Forget."

(I know. I just hate to be a broken record.)

The next day, she went to pick up my medicine. Didn't ask, or make me call it in, or anything. I know it sounds ridiculous, but when I'm in a low slump, even picking up the phone to tell someone that I need my prescription number refilled, which is well within my rights and will necessitate absolutely no further questions, is just...beyond me. I could more easily pick myself up by my own shoelaces. Usually, this necessitates a roaring row between milady and I, as she desperately tries to get me to do this simple thing, and I curl up into a ball of refusal and self-loathing. But not this time. And that...means a lot.

A few days and a few pills later, this entire episode seems incomprehensible to me. If I ever needed any clearer proof that DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY ARE NOT PERSONALITY CHARACTERISTICS, THEY ARE A FUCKING DISEASE, this is it. Sure, I am sad, sometimes. Melancholy, even. But I am not chronically, destructively, uncontrollably so, for no goddamn reason. When I'm taking my medicine and that behavior has STOPPED, it becomes difficult to romanticize.

Depression is a distortion in the lens through which you view reality. It is a defect in your filter. It means that instead of seeing the good and bad things in your life, you start to lose track of the good ones and zoom in with false clarity on the bad. And fuck that.

I don't want to live, I want to LIVE.

1:02am: Fizzizzityuck this.
Okay, so...

I was supposed to take the guinea pigs to the vet, today. I was also supposed to pick Cristin up from school, early, and take her to get her learner's permit. I failed to notice that these two things were inevitably going to overlap, so just keep in mind, through the rest of this story, that the guinea pigs are in a shoebox in the car, the whole time.

Our story starts at 1:30pm, when I go to Tennessee High. After the office finds Cristin, out on the practice field, and we negotiate the ridiculous trap of one-way gates necessary for her to navigate to put her guard stuff away and then re-emerge from the band room (now on the opposite side of the building from where I parked), we get lost on the way to the Department of Safety, because the Sullivan County station is out in the fucking boondocks, halfway to Kingsport, and I got 11E mixed up with 11W. Look, I've been there once, ever, and I wasn't in the best frame of mind.

Lengthily correcting our mistake, we arrived at about 3:25. The DoS stops accepting new applicants for the permit test at 4:30. We were promptly (albeit politely and apologetically) told that Cristin must have a parent or guardian present. I carefully contained the explosive pressure that built up in my head, at that moment, because I had initially assumed that this would be the case, had made my concerns known, and had taken the fact that Janice and Cristin asked me to even make this trip as evidence that they had looked it up and found out otherwise. Guess not.

I explained that Janice was basically not ever going to be able to leave work to do this (she's out of vacation time for the rest of the year), and they gave me an affidavit that she could sign and have notarized in her absence. Cristin was royally pissed, because she has no days off from Color Guard-related activities for about a month, after this, and her attendance at school has been a little on the spotty side, what with her recent bout of the flu, and miscellaneous minor ailments.

So I decided, since this was kinda the only day we had, that we'd give it the Hail Mary shot. I called Janice, all the way back at exit 7, and told her we needed a copy of her driver's license, her signature on the forms, and she should start emailing people to find out if anyone at OfficeMax had their notary certification, because we were on our friggin' way (side note: it's always extra-fun for me to visit my former job, which kinda ruined my life and then fired me.)

We arrived, and were told by Janice that a couple of people had their Virginia certification, but no one had Tennessee credentials. We gave her the forms, anyway, and I made plans to take a decidedly sullen Cristin out to eat, since it was now 4:05, and neither of us had eaten since breakfast, and there was no way we were going to make any further progress on her learner's permit.

...which was when Janice called, and said that a) she'd gotten in trouble for coming to talk to us, for some bullshit reason, and b) she'd found a TN notary, and Lori had gotten the form taken care of, and would meet us at the side door. We raced back, and left the parking lot with all the necessary info at 4:13. Right before getting on the interstate, we realized that Janice had given us the affidavit, but had kept the folder that had Cristin's birth certificate, social security card, and confirmation of attendance from the school. Cristin called Lori, Lori rushed to Janice's desk, and then the side door again, and we left for the final time at 4:17. The office was closing at 4:30. It was all the way back in Tennessee on 11W. It was hopeless.

So I made an executive decision to the effect that we were either going to a) get her test, or b) burn the place down (this attitude has often gotten me startling results, when dealing with the government, such as when I had my ticket reduced in Asheville by simply refusing to leave the building until someone helped me), warned Cristin that she might have to see me get into a fight with someone at the information desk, and set the cruise control to 75mph. I'd never taken this route before, but it seemed like it might be faster, so we burned down the interstate to exit 69, followed 394 to 11W, and arrived at the office at 4:38.

Somewhere along the way, Amanda called Cristin, and asked us where the hell we were, because her grandmother wanted to drop her off, now, and she didn't have her key with her. I suggested that they either meet us at the DoS, or that Amanda wait at her grandmother's house, and we would pick her up, later. Cristin relayed these options. Amanda refused both of them. Cristin exploded. The phone conversation that followed was not pretty, and Amanda apparently hung up on her sister without resolving anything.

Upon reaching the DoS, the same woman was at the desk, and she was duly impressed that Cristin and I had managed to get something signed and sealed by a notary in the intervening time. She waived the cutoff time, and thus unknowingly saved herself a great deal of unpleasantness. Cristin filled out her forms, and, a few minutes later, took and passed her test. We rejoiced. The day was finally back on track. We were the champions. I even requested a comment card, so I could say nice things about the staff on duty (who really had been quite friendly.)

Then the woman at the checkout counter, as I was paying the fees, pointed out that Janice had forgotten to sign a final blank, on the back, which rendered the entire document moot, and meant that it would have to be signed and then notarized a second time because the original notary hadn't witnessed this additional signature.

To our credit, Cristin and I did not lose our tempers, though Cristin came close while calling her mother, in the car, on the way BACK to exit 7, so that I could pick Janice up and rush her to school at Northeast State by 6:00pm...which was, again, back in totally the other direction, from whence we had just come (only even further.)

Along the drive to get Janice, it occurred to me to wonder whatever had happened to Amanda. Misplacing a daughter seemed like a bad move. When we got there, it turned out that she had apparently been dropped off at OfficeMax, which seemed, and still seems, like the most peculiar of the available options, but it at least meant that I didn't have to make an additional trip to Bluff City to get her, so I wasn't complaining.

The kids and I stopped home to drop off the poor, beleaguered guinea pigs, who had now been in a shoebox in the car for five hours. Then we went out for Chinese food at the Shanghai. I have no regrets, where this is concerned. When we got back, I had a Xanax, a Celexa, two ibuprofen, and a cup of black tea, and decided against scarifying myself with the soldering iron.

Then I drove BACK to fucking exit 63 to pick Janice up from college.

The rest of the evening was hanging out with Travis and working on Strat Mos material. Our current hope is to finish the EP, which we had planned to hand out for the holidays LAST year, in time for the holidays THIS year.

Upon such dreams are my days built.

2:08am: Lethargy and Anarchy
I keep trying to find a well of venomous guilt and self-loathing that I can apply against myself for being so awesomely lazy during this past Family Flu Week, but it's just not working. Damn antidepressants!

Actually, yesterday was absolutely manic, making cakes and driving kids places and doing crazy things to ensure that Cristin had a happy birthday party. But pictures of all that will be forthcoming on Facebook. (Do I know anyone here that I'm not friends with on Facebook? It's just way, way easier to post them there than upload them to my webspace and link to them, here.)

Didn't make it to Jeff and Jessica's pre-wedding shower, but did get to see each of them, Friday, which was good stuff. My friends sustain me, in good times and bad.

11:47pm: More later, but for now...
Due to an ongoing war between us and the cable company, we are

a) Not going to have the home phone, anymore. No more 423-217-0708. Make a note of it.

b) Not going to have extended cable. You know who has two thumbs and isn't going to miss having the Disney channel on, all day? (Yeah. This guy.) On the other hand, the loss of random movies and music videos free on demand does sting, a bit.

Well, whatever. Something of substance once my borderline flu-like symptoms abate, a bit.

2:07am: Cue the Dead Milkmen
...so I was doing a little visual art, and I had a mug of diluted bleach on the counter, for reasons that I don't especially feel like going into, at the moment.

I want to make clear that, an hour or so ago, I even had the thought "Gee, wouldn't it be awful if I mistook this for my water and took a big sip of it?"

So I guess you can figure out where this is going.

Fortunately, I didn't swallow much of it, but my tongue burns and my throat feels slightly raw.

2:55pm: Dream
In my dream, my sister was unexpectedly pregnant by her (imaginary) boyfriend. She was adamant about keeping the baby, but she was so upset and so stressed out trying to figure out how she was going to plan around the birth and keep doing all the things she wanted to do with her life that I was furiously angry, and ready to kill her boyfriend. Unfortunately, in classic Mary style, she had never brought him around for anyone in the family to meet, so we didn't know who he was, and she was doubly determined to keep it that way, now. I wanted to be respectful of my sister, who can certainly make her own decisions and doesn't need me to stick up for her, but I also couldn't help but feel like the world would be improved by putting the fear of God into him. When I woke up, I was in process of doing some hard thinking about whether I was going to be over my anger by the time the father and I inevitably met at the hospital, in nine months.

I stirred, got a drink of water, and went back to sleep. In my next dream, I was at Wal Mart, and realized that I forgotten to wear pants, which was awkward. I was trying to stay inconspicuous by keeping my shirt pulled down low (making everyone think I had hot-pants on??? I don't know, I guess it was better than being naked) when I abruptly ran into Travis. Travis didn't notice my state of partial dress, thankfully, but he was uncomfortably inquiring after Mary, who he'd heard was pregnant, and wondering how I felt about it, because he'd heard I was pretty angry. At this point, I became monumentally confused, because I knew for a fact that situation had been a dream, so there didn't seem to be any reasonably possible way Travis or anyone else could know about it. But he was so certain, and so concerned, that I started to doubt it, and wonder if Mary really was pregnant.

My uncertainty lasted well into the next time I woke up, as I was eating the day's first bowl of Golden Grahams, and didn't dissipate entirely until I'd downed a cup of tea.

1:51am: ...
The worst is when there's nothing technically wrong with the day you just had, and you still feel so miserable you could hold your own head under the toilet until you stop kicking.

For Sale: My Brain.

3:51am: Fuck, I can't sleep.
LJ informed me that I had not filled out the interests section of my profile. So I put the four most unlikely, off-the-wall interests I could come up with (view my profile and see for yourself.)

Three of the four are apparently shared by someone else.

Even when I try, I can't be weirder than the world.

.

.

.

So anyway, in the interest of accuracy, I opened two Benedryl capsules, mixed them with a little water, and chased it with a swig of whiskey. Let's see consciousness hold out against THAT.

3:03pm: Dream
In my dream, Janice and I had broken up, and I had moved out of our apartment. At the same time, for some financial reason, my parents had lost their home, but my father had quickly and ably found another place for them to live. In fashion typical of my father, the entire family was relocated and the house was empty a few weeks before the actual foreclosure date. Since my parents' house was "in limbo," I asked if I could stay there for a little while, until I found my own place. My father agreed, but told me not to get comfortable, because I had to be completely gone on the date the property was going to be seized.

The house was empty and strange, and I discovered it had an upstairs room I'd never been to, before, much like the loft at Janice and I's apartment where Cristin's bedroom is, now. In the loft, I found a wire cage with food and a waterbottle, and to my surprise, my sister's pet guinea pig, from her childhood, was inside. I got down and looked at her, and she made her little rumbling purring noise. I lifted her out of the cage, and held her on my stomach as I lay back on the floor, and stroked her. Her white coat was scruffy and dirty, but she was soft and warm. "Ivy?" I said. "I thought you were dead." After a minute, "I guess not. I guess we just forgot about you."

I lay there, in my parents' empty house, with my sister's long-dead pet, and said, "Don't worry, girl. I know what that's like. I won't forget you, again."

2:12pm: Know what I just made (and yes, actually ate)?


Hot wings.

Wrapped in bacon.

Dipped in homemade ranch.

Yes, you read right.
Two thoughts occur to me: 1) There is a planned outing to Charlotte, in the near future, in which I will be visiting Kevin, Jeff, Brian, TPD, possibly both Matts, and others of that ilk. It occurs to me that there could be no finer food for me to prepare and serve to my fellows at said event. 2) Is it bad that my chest hurts, and my left side has gone numb?

Also, in case you ever find yourself in the position of needing to prepare ranch on short notice:

-sour cream
-mayonnaise
-garlic powder, or chopped dried/roasted/sauteed garlic
-chives and/or green onions, chopped
-dill and/or parsley
-salt
-red and/or black pepper
-optionally, buttermilk for additional tang

Stir it up and stick it in the fridge for 1/2 hour before serving. With different proportions of the alternated ingredients, various subtly different ranches are possible.

1:08pm: Various Portents and Signs of the End Times
Sometimes The Onion has my number so totally that it's just embarrassing.

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/job_became_completely_humiliating

-=-

I am applying for a job at the hospital AS WE SPEAK.

-=-

Spent the morning huddled over chamomile tea, wrapped in blankets, desperately hoping that whatever was afflicting my digestive tract had passed. I'm going to blame the Dora the Explorer cake, but dude, last night and this morning, I was in HELL. All this, and I have to work on the car, too!

-=-

Bought a pocket IC digital recorder, last night, with the money that my grandmother gave me for my birthday. Fair warning: I am never going to be without this device. If you show signs of being about to say something amusing/incriminating, I will not hesitate to record your ass. I've done some simple experiments, and it should have some interesting musical applications, as well. More on that as I put it to use...

7:18pm: Hurrah for my birth (x29)!
So, Doug called and left me an awesomely piratical phone message, which almost made my girlfriend die in spasms (Doug's pirate voice is equal parts Captain Blackbeard and Wesley Willis) and Travis stopped by to bestow a hipster hoodie (he's secretly trying to make me dress like him) AND a digital metronome/tuner (a suitable gift from a band-mate, especially since the one my sister gave me years ago has, sadly, bleeped its last.)

Later, my mother and father called, which was nice, because I was starting to worry that they no longer liked me.

Then Matt Arnold and The Perfect Doug stopped by to give me a pink Dora The Explorer cake with my name on it, and a Tinkerbelle birthday card. "We told the woman at the grocery store it was for a little girl," TPD told me, gleefully.

From Janice and the girls, I have received: hiking shoes, Shutter Island (book), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (movie), and...

...a guinea pig. My guinea pig's name is Eleanor (after the dubiously sane protagonist of Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House.) There are actually two guinea pigs, but the other one is Cristin's. Were it mine, I would have named it Theodora. Since it is not, it is named Alice, after Cristin's favorite Twilight character. They're both kind of tired, after an exciting afternoon, so their photo-op will have to be later.

We are not actually allowed to have pets, so these are SECRET guinea pigs. Shhhhhhh!

All of this has helped to make up for the fact that my birthday is, so far, the grayest, gloomiest, rainiest day we have had in quite some time, and I slept like a stone until almost two in the afternoon, at which time I woke up with, unfortunately, the Gin Blossoms song "29" running through my head.

Hope everyone is well.

11:03am: Operation: Functional (Day 1)
Current score: 1 phone call.

This morning was interesting. Due to the problem I mentioned, previously, it's necessary to disconnect the battery any time the car is going to be parked, for a while. Well, last night...we forgot, and the car was dead, this morning. Amanda had a field trip she was going to miss the bus for, so she and Janice were panicking, as I sleepily tried to make sense of the confusion I had woken up in the midst of.

I hauled the battery out of the Thunderbird to jump the Oldsmobile off (the battery has only ever been connected once, so it's basically still brand-new), but after a few tries, it became apparent that the car needed a running alternator in addition to the charge from the battery to bring it back to life. Fortunately, the stepfather of one of Cristin's friends (her friend is, confusingly, named Kristen, so just feel lucky you're reading this and not hearing it verbally) was home, and pulled his Mustang over to jump the Intrigue off, which it did, in pretty short order. Amanda made it to her field trip on time.

I ate breakfast, drank tea, and then made the mistake of reading, which rendered me unconscious in a fairly short period of time. I was part the way through a bewildering dream when the phone rang, and who should it be but...well, one of you. I don't actually know who, because the number isn't programmed into the ID on my home phone. At first, I assumed it was Liana (intransphonemia), having taken me at my word, (I mainly thought this because we had just exchanged phone numbers, last night) but, since Liana was quite baffled when I later thanked her for calling me, I am assuming it was not. Unless she is playing a TERRIBLE MIND-GAME with me. This was about 9:45. Whoever it was, I was astounded by the fact that I was both conscious and happy to be so, so I showered and shaved and put on different clothes, and called Janice on her break at work, and...you know, lived.

I'm going to go for a walk, now, and then I'm going to call a friend of Janice's about a job doing transportation for the hospital.

1:54pm: In which I rant about physics, psychology, and 9/11 conspiracy theories.
zaarwin_devolve and I are on very much the same page about 9/11 conspiracies. In his recent entry, he quoted at least one source so crazy that I HAVE to reply, or the effort of suppressing my rage will cause me to split in two.

From this synopsis, which posits that there were no planes used in the attacks, and the planes were digitally added for the news...EVERYWHERE:

How does an aluminum plane and aluminum wings slice through a steel building?
How does the plane "melt" into the building with zero impact visibile?
How does the aluminum nose of the plane come out the other side of the building INTACT?
How can a Boeing 767 fly at speeds several hundred miles faster than is possible at such a low altitude?

What really drives me insane is the lack of a basic understanding of physics inherent in these questions. Point by point:

• How does an aluminum plane and aluminum wings slice through a steel building?
• How does the plane "melt" into the building with zero impact visibile?

In response to the first question: the same way pine-needles get driven through oak boards during a hurricane (a verified phenomenon.) The question here is one of momentum, not of the durability of the materials involved. You can put a wet clay pellet in a superconducting mass-driver gun and drive it through concrete. Or, to use a somewhat closer-to-home metaphor, I guess the authors of this particular conspiranoiac missive don't believe in a little thing called...bird-strike. After all, if you gave me a piece of the glass windshield, I could easily carve that crane up for dinner, and birds have HOLLOW BONES, so there's NO WAY one could penetrate a military aircraft's windshield.

Momentum: P = M x V. That's Mass Times Velocity. Density doesn't come into it. It's as simple as that.
What makes me froth at the mouth about the second question is its inconsistency with the previous question. First, aluminum is too soft to penetrate the building. Now we want to know why the aluminum plane crumpled up on impact. Again, basic Newtonian physics:

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
All that momentum used to destroy the building affects the plane equally, and it is, as already noted in the text of the previous question, considerably less able to endure such forces. Asking this question is like asking why the bird in the picture linked to above is DEAD.

...Not to mention that the idea of a "steel building" is kind of misleading. Sure, the WTC might have been made of nice, sturdy steel beams, but it's not an artillery pillbox. Architecture simply isn't designed with the idea that huge flying objects are going to collide with the building. Girders might be rated not to shear during an earthquake, a hurricane, etc., but that simply IS NOT THE SAME THING as having a @#$%$ING AIRPLANE HIT YOU.

• How does the aluminum nose of the plane come out the other side of the building INTACT?
• How can a Boeing 767 fly at speeds several hundred miles faster than is possible at such a low altitude?

Now, my answers to these questions involve a little more speculation, but the questions are both phrased in terms of "how could this possibly happen?" as if to imply that it couldn't, and this should make me suspicious, so if I can offer a reasonable explanation, we can all go home, right? Right.

I'm not someone who sits around freeze-framing videos of a tragedy, because watching the planes hit again and again would probably make me heave up my lunch. So forgive me if I can't offer a blow-by-blow replay, here, but it seems to me that if the plane hit at even a slight angle, rather than dead-on (which seems pretty likely, considering that they were being deliberately crashed by adrenaline-fueled lunatics with only a basic understanding of piloting) the nose would snap off and be sent flying for pretty much the same reason that ramming a pencil into the sidewalk at an angle will throw the broken tip into the air.

The second question hardly deserves my time, because it contains its own answer. By definition, a plane can't fly several hundred miles faster than is possible at low altitude. I presume that the question here is one of maximum velocity with regard to air-resistance. This means one of four things, and you can decide how ominous these things are for yourself:

• The author of this document is incorrect about what speeds are possible at low altitude.
• The source the author cites is incorrect about the speed of the plane.
• This is a completely fabricated idea, with no basis in fact.
• The "maximum speeds" he is referring to are quoted with the idea in mind that the plane and the passengers are supposed to SURVIVE. After all, land vehicles have been able to break the sound barrier since 1948, and the planes weren't moving at supersonic velocity. It seems silly to say that they CAN'T fly that fast at low altitude, they just SHOULDN'T, for obvious reasons.

I can't help but wonder to what extent our fascination with conspiracies stems from a childish mixture of insecurity and arrogance. We are frightened of the complex, chaotic implications of the idea that this kind of brainless, hail-Mary attack might yield actual damage to our fortified, invulnerable nation. (Read this article at Slate.com for an analysis of why we aren't simply bombarded with terrorist attacks, all the time, including the fact that 9/11 was more about balls than brains.) We find it easier to say that someone sold us out, rather than to admit that the fundamental reality of our national security, like everyone else on Earth's, is simply imperfect, and that we are not (and have not ever been) "safe." Safety is illusory, and addictive, and, like any addictive substance, it's astounding the lengths people will go to in order to get more of it, and what basic dignities and freedoms they will give up. And, look, I know: soberly facing an unsafe world is hard. It's the hardest thing any of us have to do. But it's also the basic qualification for being a human being that can make a difference in the world.

It might seem as if I'm confused, here. After all, don't these daring fringe-theorists want to rip AWAY our illusion of safety, and make us face the evil that's taken root in our country? In short: no. Even as conspiracy theorists talk about government corruption, it's kind of like the kid that knows that daddy cheats on mommy...they still want daddy to come home, every night, and keep them safe. They might write "I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU" in their spiral composition books, but without him there to hate, their world would turn upside down. How do I know this? Simple. If you really believe that a conspiracy of thousands allowed a disaster of this magnitude on American soil, you have only two rational options as a concerned citizen: 1) Change the system from inside, or, if this is impossible, 2) Radical action, possibly violent, against the parties involved. Anything else is masturbatory. As per my discussion with Josh and Elena, on my farm-work day, conspiranoiacs don't use corruption as impetus to galvanize people to action, they use it to absolve themselves for their own inaction. "I don't vote, because the system is broken." "I won't run for office, because THEY won't let me make any change, anyway." "People are too lazy and complacent for anything I do to make a difference." Simply put, they don't want the responsibility. Their bad daddy does too many things that make their lives easier, and they don't want to have to figure out how to keep the water running and the lights on once he's gone. At most, these people want us to join them in their pathological disillusionment, so they don't feel so alone in their alienation. Interestingly, according to some, this is the same thing that another group of radical thinkers (terrorists!) actually want. Quoting the Slate article, mentioned above:

In a 2008 follow-up essay, "What Terrorists Really Want," Abrahms explained that terrorist groups are typically incapable of maintaining a consistent set of strategic goals, much less achieving them. Then why do they become terrorists? To "develop strong affective ties with fellow terrorists." It's fraternal bonds they want, not territory, nor influence, nor even, in most cases, to affirm religious beliefs. If a terrorist group's demands tend to sound improvised, that's because they are improvised; what really matters to its members—even its leaders—is that they are a band of brothers. Marc Sageman, a forensic psychiatrist and former Central Intelligence Agency case officer in Afghanistan, collected the biographies of 400 terrorists who'd targeted the United States. He found that fully 88 percent became terrorists not because they wanted to change the world but because they had "friendship/family bonds to the jihad." Among the 400, Sageman found only four who had "any hint of a [psychological] disorder," a lower incidence than in the general population. Think the Elks, only more lethal. Cut off from al-Qaida's top leadership, they are plenty dangerous, but not nearly as task-oriented as we imagine them to be.

It's also, and here I think we come to the crux of the arrogance/insecurity paradox, easier to think of our bad daddy as being evil than as being weak and human. A powerful but wicked government is, on a Freudian, subconscious level, easier for many people to live with than a flawed, incompetent one. It can provide, if not bliss, then at least stability. On the other hand, a weak father, one with lapses in judgment, proclivities he doesn't have the will to control, etc. is unpredictable, unsettling, complex, and implies that we must participate in the world, that we might not just be taken care of.

That's why I don't have the same problem with people who are bitter about our government's failure to prevent 9/11 that I do with people who try to say that the government was complicit in the attack. Absolutely, in an event like this, we should be trying to find out what went wrong, holding the people in charge responsible, and shoring up gaps, and I can understand the rage of the victims' families when these things didn't really happen (whoever made the remark that the post-9/11 airline carry-on restrictions were like "Odyssey of the Mind for terrorists" was right on target.)

Looking at the Bush administration as critically careless and, subsequently, cynically opportunistic seems like a simple application of Occam's razor, to me, and I feel like people who want to make more of it than that are practicing their own brand of opportunism, exploiting the victims of 9/11 just as callously as the corporate contractors in Iraq, taking advantage of feelings of vulnerability to promote their own ideologies. It's like having Mormons accost you right after your wife was hit by a car. (On a related note, though this could easily be an essay all on its own, I am severely disappointed by the fact that many Democrats are guilty of this very thing, when in reality the best that we can claim is that we weren't in charge when 9/11 happened.)

I would love to hear anyone and everyone's thoughts on this.

2:12am: Since I cashed out my 401(k)...
...I have paid off my debt to Visa, refilled my cell phone with minutes (sorry to anyone who's tried to reach me, lately), bought Janice and the kids and myself an enormous dinner out, complete with cocktails, appetizers, and dessert (something that has not happened in a LOOOONG time), and made plans to actually go shopping for CLOTHING, tomorrow.

Let me clarify the significance of this: Except for maybe one trip to a second hand store, a year or so, ago, I probably have not bought new clothes for myself since Janice and I started dating. Except for my concert t-shirts (in excellent repair, because I hand-wash and air-dry them like a psychotic nutball) pretty much every item of clothing I own is falling apart. This is especially, and uncomfortably, true of my underwear. I am down to four pairs of boxers that are wearable, and one of them is on its absolute last leg. If I were to answer the door wearing it, I could be arrested.

In other news, Janice's car broke down. After a pretty damned epic battle to remove the old starter and have it tested (I kept a log, this time, both for posterity, and so that I would remember which screws went where), I successfully installed a new one (special thanks to Ian, who drove me places while I was doing this stuff, and who gave me a big box of old radio parts for no particular reason.) This has allowed the car to start...but only in Neutral. Something is wrong with the shifting mechanism. It is impossible to put the car in Park, and the other gears no longer seem to correspond to their correct positions on the indicator. The most annoying things about this are that a) you have to follow a terribly specific set of motions in order to get the car to surrender the key, if you want to take it out of the ignition, and b) the two lower rear lights won't turn off (they only go off in Park) so it is necessary to whip out an 8mm wrench and disconnect the negative terminal of the battery any time the car is going to be parked for more than 20 minutes or so.

A little investigation has allowed me to determine that no one stocks the Haynes or Chilton repair manual for Janice's car, locally, so I either have to order it online or hope that someone on a message board knows what the fuck is going on, here. I hope it's simply a switch or position-sensor that is bad, and not something profoundly wrong with the transmission. The guy at the auto parts store said I should look up "Shifter Solenoid" online, so I guess I'll do that, later.

Having a clear-cut enemy that I have at least partially triumphed over, not to mention getting some cash money, has restored an astonishing amount of my humanity. I feel much more able to deal with people when I have evidence that I have potency and a place in the world. It's not a panacea, I still have lots of things I need to work through, but I feel like one of the bigger and more crushing weights has lifted off me, at least for the time being, and I am thus more able to juggle the others.

Travis came over to play music, this evening, and instead we both mainly ended up sitting with the girls, helping them with their homework. I didn't ask him to do this, he just started helping Amanda study her vocabulary words while I talked Cristin through her math. One of my favorite things about Travis is that he treats the entire household as legitimately present and possible to communicate with. He also isn't frightened of children. Several people I know seem to try their best to avoid everyone but me, when they're here...which REALLY bothers me, and doesn't EVER go unnoticed by Janice and the girls. They always comment on it, later. I don't know if things are going to work out in the long haul, for the four of us, but in the meantime, it's nice to have at least a few friends who don't treat the entire thing as an anomaly that will be corrected as soon as I come to my senses.

Later, I decided it was time to start his crash course in musical theory, so he can start writing some parts and take a little heat off me. I had expected some eye-glazing. I had expected confusion. I had expected disinterest. So his total, avid, unchecked enthusiasm for the subject caught me a little off-guard. He was excited and fascinated by every single things I told him about scales, chords, and intervals. "THIS is what we should have been doing, every week!" he exclaimed, and I realized that I have this assumption that NO ONE, ANYWHERE shares my interests, and I was actually totally unprepared to find out otherwise. I was just kind of like, "Oh, well, uh, you think about that stuff, and we'll do some more, next week."