Hi, I wrote this stuff.
2/1/96 - I hung out with my dad at a UR basketball game last night. UR lost to East Carolina after a 13 point lead in the first half. Oh well. The thing I learned from the game was how important a pause can be. A player would break away with a defender right on him. Simultaneously they'd reach the basket, the defender would launch himself attempting to block the shot, but the ball guy would pause as the defender rocketed out of the way leaving the shot clear. How often can this technique be used? I'd wager quite frequently. That's what I learned yesterday; perhaps I'd known it, but now I can speak about it in metaphor. What could be better? It was cool hanging with dad. I told him about this observation and he went into a list of examples which I will not repeat here. It's nice to discuss philosophy (even at this basic level) with dad; It reminds me of TV.
2/2/96 - I drove 10 miles to work this morning in a blizzard risking my neck every second for 1800 (or so) seconds and I know there will be at least another 1800 (or so) chances for me to break something (i.e. me, my car, someone else, or someone else's car) before this hellishly wintery day is done. I would like to know what factors the person responsible for not calling off work has to weigh to make the work/no work decision. From my point of view (ignorance) I feel like calling this person a choice list of names. I will refrain from judgement because of my ignorance, but it's not easy to do so. I'm in a bad mood. I love winter and I love winter weather, but I'm an unskilled winter weather driver and having to come to work has awakened strongly negative emotions in me and, right now, I'm not pissed at winter so much as I'm pissed at the person responsible for turning my likes against me. But, again, I know only part of the story and will try my hardest to be rational. I fear my drive home.
2/5/96 - Hey, I'm not bitter anymore. It's far too cold for that. In fact, it's butt cold. I believe it was -1 F as I attempted to remove frost from my windshield. My radio was even sluggish. My ice scraper had frozen to the floor. The inside of my nose froze as I sauntered (good word, eh?) to my car; I stopped sauntering at that point. I still maintain, in the midst of this cruddy un-Southern weather, that I'll take this over hot and humid any day. I would, of course, prefer less extremes on both um... extremes of the temperture scale, but I'm more able to withstand cold than hot. I'm done for today. Hey, the radio says it's up to 0 F.
2/6/96 - This morning I was forced to think about myself and my ability to get up quickly in the morning. When my alarm goes off, I'm up and making coffee without a thought. Next I'm in the shower, then brushing my teeth, etc, etc... Yet when someone calls me late at night or early in the morning I can barely converse for 5 minutes or so. I finally figured out this apparently contradictory behavior. The secret to my morning routine's smoothness is its mindlessness. I don't have to think about what I'm doing so by the time thinking is required I've been up the requisite warm up period and can function. The sneaky thing is there is no discrete moment at which the warm up period is over, unlike this entry.
2/7/96 - I got an email petition a couple of days ago from some upset people. They were mad that the government was cutting funding to National Public Radio and Public Television. I admire them, but I completely disagree with their position. Radio and TV are not the government's job. I think funding should be completely cut. My parent's support NPR; they listen to it and they donate money to it. The fact is everything costs something. It would be absolutely wonderful if everyone could get what they wanted but that won't happen anytime soon and, until it does, we need to decide what is important to us and support our causes with our own time and money. There are too many things the government doesn't do well enough. Don't ask them to do more. Don't ask them to do what private enterprise does better. Don't monkey with the invisible hand. Haven't we learned this lesson yet?
2/8/96 - Nothing to report today. I can't think of anything interesting to say. I talked to my friend Steve Brody last night. His Mac broke and he is without the ability to read this. I got a roll of film developed and had CVS also put the pictures on a diskette so I can play with them on the computer; I think I'll put some on my main page; Go see if they're there. Blind Melon just came on the radio; I've mentioned before how much I like them and how angry I was that singer boy drugged himself to death. The pants I'm wearing seem to have a permanent stain on the left leg; I guess I spilled something bad on them. They'll be casual pants from now on. That's probably enough nothing for today, don't you think?
2/9/96 - What a great morning. My coffee is good. The sun is out; the mist rolling off the snow is lit like neon and the shadows of the trees cut, like fingers, through it. I feel good. It's 50 F; I haven't felt warm air outside for weeks. I wish today were saturday, but then I would have slept through this part of the morning. I like being up early (getting up early still sucks, though). The radio played good music all the way to work. Let's hope things stay this good all day. Sorry this is so short today.
2/12/96 - Okay, here we go; This is my first attempt at my great novel:
I woke up this morning the same way I have for as long as I can remember. Sleep didn't leave right away, but crept away when I wasn't looking, quietly, on the feet of a cat. I never see him and don't know when he's there, but I can tell when he's gone. That's when I begin to think. And I think. I think thoughts that I want no one to know. They're not bad or sick, but personal and gripping. Thoughts that lack words; true thoughts, an amalgam of mettle and experience that, while undoubtly influenced by others, are filtered though the essence of me and emerge naked. I don't want to expose them to the unknown opinions of others. Judging my thoughts without a knowledge of what it took form them. Origins of which I have no clue.
Well, that's fiction, straight outta my head this morning. Only 200 pages to go.
2/13/96 - I live in an apartment now for the first time since I was 6 months old. I don't love it. My toilet overflowed last night. I flushed a hanfull of toilet paper and some water and the darned thing backed up with blue water and about spilled out of the bowl. The paper was still there. I don't have one of those blue things in the tank, so I figure it backed up after the pipes joined with those from someone else's toilet and it was their gross blue water in my bowl. Egad! I called the emergency service line and they sent the world's greatest fixer guy Lewis over. Among other things I learned from Lewis was: Everyone makes fun of the place they work. The toilet, once Lewis turned the water back on, worked fine. I felt guilty and embarrassed so I started explaining the situation for about the 50th time. Lewis's reply: "I believe you, man; Anything's possible in this place."
2/14/96 - Valentines Day. I was going to write about my dopey friend Bo Hannah, but then I remembered today is Valentines Day and there is no way I'm going to write about a guy on Valentines Day. Although Bo, at one point in time (about 2 days ago), suggested I write more about a certain someone that I actually don't want to dwell to long discussing on the World Wide Web because my relationship with her is personal and I wouldn't be comfortable sharing the details with everyone; I guess some things actually are sacred to me. See, I've done it already; I said "personal" which to me implies things and I don't want to be implying. So, read that as... Well, don't read it as anything. Read the words and be happy to know that I'm not going to discuss the details of certain aspects of my life in this forum. Boy, this isn't a Valentines message at all; it's me being paranoid. Bo would laugh at this (actually, he'd laugh at me). Ok, here is the Valentines message from me: Make someone laugh. (Sorry, I couldn't think of a better one.)
2/15/96 - Hey, I'm running late this morning, but I'm still going to write my entry du jour. Today I'm going to share with you a recipe I made up all by myself. Some background: January brought Richmond something like 40 inches of snow. I used to live within walking distance of a cool grocery store. I walked to the store during the snow and bought (among other things) tomato soup, and canned salmon. We had in our kitchen Old Bay seasoning and oregano. Here we go, take the tomato soup and prepare it to directed specs. Add some salmon; I've used anywhere from 1/2 a can to the whole can (I recommend 1/2). Add some Old Bay (I like bunches, several table spoons worth; don't use as much as I do; ease into it). Add some oregano (not too much). Heat and eat. It's bitchin'.
2/16/96 - More snow today. The radio just said perhaps as many much as 6" of snow will fall today. I'm not even close to sick of this yet. True, I don't drive well in snow and that scares the heck out of me, but who cares? I used to dream of a winter like this. I was 10 or so and snow meant a reprieve for that nasty Mrs Rodgers who used to torture me in the fifth grade. At the time, I thought no one would believe a me over a teacher, but it turns out other people complained and she was asked to step down a year or so after I had her. "Fifth" is a strange word; it's so common that you don't notice the "f"/"th" pairing. How weird is that? Phonetically, it sounds like you're trying to spit out a hair; I figured that out by sitting here and saying it for a moment or so. I don't think anyone heard me.
2/19/96 - "Lee," you may be thinking "what is a normal weekend like for you? What do you do?" Normally I wouldn't answer such personal questions, but who else is there to document day to day life in the late 20th century? Friday night I sat around with my friend Chuck (who has a 4 wheel drive and was able to get out on the slick snow covered roads) watching The X-Files and eating ham and spinach pizza from Rocco's. Saturday I got up at 9:30 made a pot of coffee and drank it watching saturday morning cartoons. I made another pot and drank it as I drew a picture of my mother to give to my father for his birthday. Then I called my friend Katy and we went looking for a frame in which to put the picture. This took about 30 minutes so I went running (no causality there as the "so" implies, sorry). I ate leftover pizza as the sun sank. I was going to a party later so I made jello shooters. I showered, watched Star Trek (both DS9 and Voyager) and left for the party. Then came sunday; just as boring.
2/20/96 - Today is my Dad's birthday. I would say he's really old, but that's probably not true. Although, I could probably get away with it; He's not going to read this. He can't. Well, he could, but it'd be a huge pain. He'd have to find someone with a browser (actually, he have to know what a browser is), and it's not like many of his friends are computer jocks. Dad will probably spend today like he spends the other 365 days this year: get up, eat bran flakes, drink coffee, shower, shave, work, have a martini, fall asleep on the couch. 18 words sum up my Dad's day; who am I to criticize? He digs it. He does have hobbies. He likes to needle point, make the grass grow up extra green (and the trees and bushes grow up extra tree and bush like), watch and log his backyard bird population (ask him about trends... he'll babble longer than I can (without repeating himself)), dole out TV-Dad advice, collect useless trivia (a hobby he has passed along to me), watch soccer, I could go on about my Dad for a long time. I've found this effortless. Happy Birthday, Dad.
2/21/96 - What shall I say today? I could say I'm tired of tired political rhetoric; Does anyone have anything real to say? In Richmond, some Richmonders want to elect the mayor while others want the mayor to remain an appointed position. It's turned into a racial issue, but more importantly, it's turned into a bout of poor speakers (except for Jesse Jackson who actually makes a boring point sound riveting). People are using invalid arguments in public; I heard one woman on the radio say "The committee shouldn't waste their time on this proposal because the proposal is a waste of the committee's time." Excuse me! That's about as circular as I've ever heard. Most of the arguments I hear are similar; "Giving the decision to the people empowers them to make their own choices". No, really?! Not one argument I've heard makes any sense (all I heard of Jesse Jackson's speech were the highlights and hearing Jackson highlights is roughly equivalent to seeing Michael Jordan dunking highlights without getting the final score). No one seems to be requiring speakers to provide answers to simple questions. Why won't someone shout "Why?"?
2/22/96 - Blank. Completely Blank, my mind is not moving. I'm listening to a female boxer talk to the morning show DJs on the radio. Was the previous sentence's last prepositional phrase necessary? I think most people are quick enough to know that Disc Jockeys work in radio, yet I still included the redundant phrase. Avoid prepositional phrases I've heard. A writing instructor I had my senior year in college touted that policy. The class was designed to teach regular Joes like me to write intelligently; Aside from it being a damn good class, it was fun. We discussed stuff as a group instead of receiving objective authoritative opinions from the professor (who did however objectively grade us). Did you catch the contradiction? I am I so unable to write this morning that I can't even finish this sentence well? I only got a B in the class; does that explain anything?
2/23/96 - My eye balls are itchy and dry from lack of sleep. Coffee can only do so much for a person. I'm going to a dinner party tonight and am responsible for bread. I have no idea how much bread to get; There'll be 10 or so people there. I don't even know what type of bread to get. I'm not used to parties where everyone brings food and, poof!, there's a dinner. This takes planning and a sense of what's needed. It used to be all that was needed was tequila and a few limes. I figure I'll go to Ukrop's and sponge advice off of a bakery person. I'll bet I end up with 4 loaves of french bread. Perhaps I'd be happier if I just skipped the worrying and bought the french bread. Random Note: I told the head of the Math Dept here at UR that I have no worries, let's hope he doesn't read this and call me on it.
2/26/96 - The weekend was good. Friday I attended a dinner party with some friends; very nice time had by all (at least that was the case as I left). Saturday I hung out with Katy's sister and fiance. Katy and Judith went shopping for dresses, so Pat and I went shopping for patio furniture. I purchased 4 blue chairs after butt testing all varieties sold by Wal-Mart. I chose a vinyl tubed chair with legs that will be equally stable on my concrete patio and on the grass where ever I choose to take them. I still need a table. Saturday evening was fun until my friend Randy came over and put his digestive system into reverse. Sunday my band started recording an album. Last night I slept well.
2/27/96 - My hands are dry from running in this screwy Virginia weather; one day it's cold and snowy, the next is warm and sunny. I think today and tomorrow are supposed to be close to 70 but we're gonna get another dumping snow this weekend. I can't keep track of everything in my life. For such a drool little person, I've plenty going on. I don't think I'm terribly busy, but I don't seem to be able to get in bed before 11:30. Then it's up at 6:30. I look around at my office and I see the death of several trees (and I'm referring only to the mounds of paper heaped on my floor until we can bind them and give them to the people who will then vigorously ignore them and complain about the lack of shelf space in their office; what a mess of pronouns). I could really use an editor. I wonder if there is a market for writing such as this? I seem to have the ability to endlessly spout this babbling prose...
2/28/96 - I awoke with a hangover this morning, yet I had nothing to drink last night except OJ and water. Bottom line is I can't explain the symptoms, but I can classify them. I stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee, but first stopped at the sink for a large, cold glass (well, plastic) of water. I suppose I drank it too quickly because it got down but then came back up like air exhausted from an untied balloon. Boy, I felt lousy. I made the coffee and took a shower. I ate breakfast (my strawberry Pop Tarts stayed down the first time). I continued my normal routine and about 50% of the way to work I felt suddenly much better. It was just like most of my real hangovers... It's even hanging on by its finger tips and squeezing hard every so often... maybe I'm getting this cold that everyone seems to have. Crud, I'm flying on saturday; this could stink.
2/29/96 - Instead of the chilly 35 it is now, yesterday was a very pleasant 70 here on the U of R campus. I am, because of a conference I'm attending, dealing with the print shop quite a bit these days (having conference documentation printed and copied). These two sentences are related; Yesterday I walked from here to the print shop several times through (of all places) the pleasant, breezy outdoors. It was completely wonderful; Not a thing associated with the trips bothered me. My tie blew across my shoulder; I'd pull it off; It would blow back. Big deal. Who cares that I was lugging binders full of paper? Not me. I was outside and outside was gorgeous. My hair might as well be glued to my head; the wind can't mess it up (any more than it already is). But today its cold. The sunlight has lost its springtime cast. The wind hurts. I like winter, but this last week of spring was sorbet after jalapeno poppers.