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10/1/96 - Well, the web machine is up today, but it's broken and won't play with me. Agai n, I'm elsewhere and will move the text file over later. Ok, more on my quest for social responsibility. It would be so easy to close myself up and remove myself from everyone and everything and live in a pit in the wilds of Montana with a manual typewriter composing crazy ideas by day and hunting spiders by night, but that would get boring after a few years. I want to be around interesting people . I'm ruled by dueling desires. I want to minimize crappiness while maximizing contentment. The problem here is the equations are somewhat unrelated... one's max doesn't necessarily correspond to the other's min and vice versa. That's where guess work comes into play. I'm not even kidding myself when I yank out mathematics. If life were as simple as calculus I'd be everything I am in my he ad (scary, eh?). I went running last night and thought about things. Time, I concluded, is the most basic commodity. I spend time working for money; I spend time with people I enjoy. I can, by using my time wisely, build simultaneously a better life for myself and for others by being conscious of social problems I can fix. Or maybe not even fix, but provide a smile for someone where there was no smile before. I love to smile. I love the feeling, even if it's only for a moment, of the air moving in my chest as the ends of my mouth curl up. I think I can provide this by giving a few moments of my time, right? Hopefully I'll carry this plan from neat-o words into real action. Step One: Make sure I don't jump in so quickly I'm overwhelmed and freaked out (that'll be hard). Step Two: Did you see "Life of Brian"? There is this group of folks that get together and form resolutions but never act... let's not be like them. Step Three: Am I already being like them?
10/2/96 - Ok, a friend pointed out I've been very serious lately. Maybe so, but not completely serious. Last night I made salsa. This alone doesn't make me jocular. In fact it made me cry. Sometimes I don't think as well as I could; I put the onion in the blender then hit the frappe button. Can you say "onion vaporizer" I can and I can tell you what it's like to experience the effects of one. I used only one onion but, DAMN, was that a strong onion. Since trying my salsa I've consumed 3 or 4 margaritas, eaten dinner, brushed my teeth, eaten breakfast, brushed my teeth and I still taste onion... or am I drinking onion flavored coffee? Oh, I had an interesting thought. What if I lived my life backwards through time? I was born in 1970. I would have experienced the Beatles like I experienced the Bee Gees. My Reagan years would have been Eisenhower years. I'd probably be fighting World War II right now. The part that scares me is... If I make it through the war I'll have to live through the Great Depression. Duh, stupid me; I'm going forward... this is just make believe, right? Well, if not, my 40s should be fun (roaring '20s).
10/3/96 - A slightly deeper than shallow study of a Fun Size pack of M&Ms. I went to get coffee and there it was... a single Fun Size pack of regular M&Ms swimming in a bowl of assorted candies. I rescued it. Back at my desk I opened it and arranged it's contents by color on my desktop. Of the 24 chocolate candies within the paper packet, I found:
10/4/96 - Today is already different from most other days. For one thing it's cold. I opened my window and let the deluge of cold air pour in and gush the warm, stagnating crappiness out into the hall with which for others to deal. How is that for a Churchillian ending to a sentence? Ok, I guess. I thought today might have been casual day. I heard someone mention it. In the spirit of risk I decided to act on hearsay; "What the heck;" I thought "If I'm wrong I will accept the consequences." It turns out I was wrong... bring on the consequences. I shall give myself (right here) the "Benefits of Looking Professional" lecture. "Lee, I know you think this is unimportant, but the way you carry yourself tells the people with whom you deal how you regard both them and your job. If you look casual people will assume that your attitudes and work are not as polished as someone's who makes the commitment to their appearance. Your current appearance screams 'poor attitude' and 'careless work ethic'." "I know. I'm sorry. I take full responsibility for this slip on my part. In hindsight, it would not have been that hard for me to have grabbed khakis from my closet instead of these jeans. I want to assure you, that while my appearance may suggest my work is not polished, the suggestion is incorrect; I have and will always approach my job seriously regardless of what I wear." Do you think I understand? Geez, this cold air has rendered my fingers practically useless.
10/7/96 - Once again, it's time for Cooking With Lee. In today's lesson we'll make Rockin' Salsa. Go get these things:
10/8/96 - Ok, it's ugly outside. Ugly makes people run. People are darting madly by my window, rushing to remove themselves from outside's ugliness. I like it. I had a rather prejudicial discussion yesterday about non runners. You guys need to experience the bliss of exhaustion. But I digress. As part of this evil conversation in which I participated my friend and I talked motivation. His view was motivation should come from within, when it doesn't, careful gun and razor wire application will suffice. I think simple, natural ugly might work much better. People I've never seen move faster than a quick mosey are quite rapid in the rain. No one is threatening these people. No bad feelings linger toward others when the experience ends. Ugly rocks. Besides, running in the rain makes me feeling strong. "Look at brave me! Courageous enough to exercise when the remainder of the wuss world cowers inside! I ROCK!" Plus, I get to taste my shampoo; I don't care how long it's been since I shower, shampoo stays in my hair. The rain washes some of it out and it drools down my face and... yuk! It's REALLY bad when I wear my grime and gak loaded running cap, but I won't go there. Bottom line, I'm digging today's major case of ugly. There's more here than appears on the surface... at more than one level. Freedom exists in ugly like it doesn't in beautiful. Ugly lacks beauty's responsibility. Few preconceptions are formed about ugly. Ugly is safe. Ugly is strangely comfortable... or maybe ugly makes me appreciate comfort (I guess I haven't thought carefully enough).
10/9/96 - I heard from many friends yesterday and have concluded that a) it was raining over the entire world yesterday and b) rain evokes more emotion in people than sunshine. Some people didn't like it, some (like me) did. I thought about it as I ran (sorry to repeat myself again). For me it's not the current weather that's appealing it's the fact that yesterday was different. I don't really dislike anything but hot and humid but I really like change. I get a charge out of the day/night thing. Every 12 or so hours it gets light or it gets dark; that's cool. Today it's sunny, but it's supposed to rain this afternoon. Strangely, I missed the rain when I ran (the ground was plenty wet, though). I look forward to getting rained on this evening. Why? because I haven't been rained on in months. I did get rained on at lunch yesterday. I can't say it was completely fun, but it offered the temporary challenge of trying to minimize my exposure while running through a parking lot with soup, coffee and car keys (3 things, 2 hands... see the problem?). I survived alright, but my hair frizzed big time in the afternoon (that sounds funny, doesn't it?). I see blue, cloudless sky through my window... bring on the rain.
10/10/96 - The web machine wouldn't play fairly earlier... It seems to have calmed down now. I got to run in the rain yesterday evening. My last mile was through a wonderful squishy shoe downpour. I couldn't see well. I couldn't hear the cars driving down the road. I just heard the rain hitting everything, the wind moving past my ears and hat and ducks. The ducks were everywhere and, perhaps through some evolutionary mechanation, audible over the rain. I was amazed. Then I was startled by a single burst of lightning. Then I started running faster (the threat of becoming barbecued road kill always seems to dislodge a speed burst from within me). Then I noticed my feet squirming in my shoe's squishiness. Then I noticed the wind and my newly found speed allowed the rain to slide under my hat's bill and directly into my eyes. Then I said "Hell, this is fun! If I'm to be barbecued by the road side, so be it. I'll die doing something I love. Plus, I'll die quickly." I slowed down and I enjoyed my last half mile in the cool downpour. I made note of the water running down the backs of my legs. I felt the t-shirt twist as the wet (synthetic) fiber was pulled this way and that by running's torsion. I intentionally jumped in the temporary streams of road run off. I just had fun. When I reached the stopping point I took my hat off and looked straight up. I made a mental note never to do that again during a downpour. Then I listened to nothing but the rain.
10/14/96 - Ok, I took friday off. I still ended up working for 6 hours... not that I'm BITTER about working on a day off or anything. Friday evening I went home and had a nice healthy dinner of cheeseburgers and bourbon; I laughed. Saturday I drove to my favorite area of the country to see my friend Bo and his girlfriend Bonnie. I still find it incredibly cool that my friends are actually MY friends; Good people they are. I also find it funny that Bonnie's name includes Bo's name. There's actually nothing in common between those two statements, so don't worry if they don't seem to make sense together. Yesterday I ran the Richmond Times-Dispatch Half Marathon... I rocked. I ran a 1:24:07 (the paper says 1:24:22, but I started my watch when I crossed the starting line, not when the gun went off). I was 21st out of 902 finishers and 3rd in my age group. I'm not that sore today, but I'm pretty tired. I ran the first 10 miles well then a huge wall snuck up behind me and got me. I managed to run the last 3 miles at better than 7 minute pace, but it wasn't very fun (frankly I don't have that clear a memory of the end either). Strange how the body works. Yesterday evening all I wanted to do was sit on the couch and grunt, but I had to come into work (Not that I'm BITTER or anything). I was here for about an hour. I went home and crashed hard. I slept from 8:30p until 7:00a and I'm still tired! What gives? Gotta go.
10/15/96 - Ok, I'm over my petty bitterness. Besides, today is my roommate Chuck's Birthday and last night I found out my friend Bo (see yesterday) is getting married... I can't be bitter, there's too much coolness in life for bitterness. Every second I stay bitter is one more second I'm not happy. So, for my friends I'm going to try and stay happy. Let's start now. I have Jeff Buckley on the CD player... I just can't get over the sweetness of his album Grace. I highly recommend everyone rush to the record store and buy a copy. I've had this album for 2 years and I still listen to it several times a week. Essential is a word I'd use to describe it. That doesn't help you know its depth and style, but I don't believe I could shed light on those qualities. What else is good? That is a question everyone will have to answer individually. I like brocolli; George Bush doesn't. To me a plate of brocolli with some ground cheddar cheese (and not that fat free crap my Mom gets now, but real, sharp, full fat, stinky stuff) and a little pepper is excellent; to George Bush its negative publicity. Ok, can I act like a teacher? I want everyone to maximize the good in life and minimize the bad, ok? I don't think it's as hard as you think. What are "good" and "bad" anyway but tags YOU attach to things. Reevaluate and keep the eyes open... maybe there is more Good than we think.
10/16/96 - Writer's block. Or maybe I should call it wannabee writer's block. Whatever name I give this condition I'm still unable to generate an interesting thought. Perhaps it's time for absurdity. Or maybe you'd like to hear about my ideal meal. Right now I'm not very hungry, but I'll try. Ideally, the location would be a place in which I'm completely comfortable. I'm not all that excited about my current dwelling so it's out. Restaurants, while nice as can be, are not conducive to relaxation, so they're out. Let's pretend I'm borrowing a cottage on a mountain somewhere. The cottage has a heated porch; it's 30 degrees outside, snowing and 7pm. A big group of friends are with me. We have a case of Horton Norton (a native Virginia red wine... very good) and some cheese and crackers as a pre meal snack. The meal will be linguine maranara and a greek spinach salad. Actually, it's not the meal that rocks as much as the company and the surroundings. Pretty much anything tastes good under good circumstances... bologna sandwiches on Wonder bread during a sunday morning hike in the woods.
10/17/96 - I drive to work each morning. I take the same roads. I'd rather see bigger places than I do, but I always know something cool is waiting for me in email once I get to work. This morning it was a memory. Not that my friend knew she was striking a familar chord... it's almost better this way. The air was right this morning: Indian summer warm, rotting leaf scented, fall breeze. I read the whole message, but 2 words made me pause: leaf scrunching... allow me to stress them (because I can) LEAF SCRUNCHING. I went alone and sometimes with friends walking on wooded trails near where I went to college. In the fall I'd dress in a sweater and jeans, but by a mile or so into the walked I'd be too hot to wear the sweater. I'd shoot from pile to pile kicking leaves up in the air. Down by the river where the puddles were, I'd take off my shoes and squish mud between my toes. I'd chase the falling leaves around like they were fly balls hit by some evil St Louis team. I'd do all the these things when I probably should have studied. I took my lifestyle for granted then. At the time those walks seemed insignificant, now that the events have passed I look back and smile wider than I ever imagined at the time I would. Does everyone have moments like these? I just realized I'm homesick.
10/18/96 -
Today is my dear, little sister's 24th birthday. I haven't spoken to her in a
few weeks, but I'll see her tomorrow when my band plays. My sister is great;
she's many things I'm not... like driven, well dressed, neat and fiscally
responsible. I'm smarter, though. I say that as I sit here facing a terminal
that's buzzing louder than it should be. Do I move? Do I fear eye cancer or
brain cancer or any other of the uncountable effects radiation could have on my
body? Of course I do, but have I moved? No. Who's the smart one now? Huh?
Huh? Huh? I have yet to even think about getting a present for my sister.
She'd already have several things for me were it my birthday. Hmmm, have I
learned from her example? No... well, maybe, but I haven't acted on my
knowledge. Did I mention she doesn't procastinate like I do? Do you know what
I like best about my sister? She likes me. Few people accept me for the messed
up, confused, uncomfortable, inconsiderate, sloppy, petty, selfish, lazy soul
I am. She does. Thanks, little sister; Happy Birthday; I love you.
10/21/96 - Neurotic boy returns. I slept a piddly 4 hours saturday night. My band played and then several of us sat around listening to the show's tape until 5am. I arose at 9:15a, drove to Richmond, showered and rushed to the parent's house for a free lunch celebrating my sister's entrance into her 25th year. After that ended it was back to my place to relax, digest and run. I feel asleep on the couch; I didn't mean to... I just did. I awoke about an hour after I sat down. I closed my eyes and slept another hour away. Ok, here is where neorotic boy comes into the picture. Do I count this nap as saturday night or sunday night sleep time? Which does it augment? The accounting is driving me nuts. Speaking of nuts, my friend Jane just brought me a cup of pistachios... They're gone. I'm allergic to the damn things but I can't not eat them. I've noticed a certain inability in myself to resist things I probably shouldn't do. But then I ask myself "Why?". For the most part I can't think of good reasons. Sure, pistachios may swell my throat and kill me, but they haven't yet, so why quit? Neuroses are another thing, but I can't really control them, they just happen to me. And who really knows what's best for me? I certainly don't; I think I do but I'm not sure... might as well live somewhat dangerously; it's not boring. Oh, I never ran yesterday... crap.
10/22/96 - As luck would have it, my car wouldn't start this morning. I hope there is some cosmic luck scale out there doling out luck fairly to all the Universe's people and plants. If there is, my bad luck is simply a dead car battery and good things will happen now. Of course I don't believe in a cosmic luck balance, but maybe I'm slotted to be a 20th century Job. That would suck for a while. Suffering for years and finally, when everything looks bleakest, my life will suddenly become the peachiest of peachy lives. But I don't think that will happen either. So back to my car battery. I hope the car's problem is as simply fixed as going to Napa, saying "Battery Me", returning to my crusty shell of a Tercel, saying to my roommate "Uh, Andy, how do you put a new battery into a car?" (he's a car repair wizard), watching as Andy does my work for me and, Viola, fixed car. Now I need to think about a new vehicle. Actually, before I do that I'm going to ponder the word vehicle; strange looking word. According to Webster's New World Dictionary vehicle is derived from the Latin verb "vehere" (to carry). Pretty boring if you ask me. I think "vehicle" looks more like "icicle" which comes from the Old English words "Is" (ice) and "Gicel" (piece of ice). All of this leads me to conclude redundancy is funny and I have a screwed up mind. On with the show.
10/23/96 - OK, it's late... after 11a. I had so much to do this morning I haven't gotten around to journalizing until now. My battery is fixed. I guess if you didn't read yesterday's journal that means nothing to you. My Dad suggested a test whose results pointed to dead battery. With some help I popped the clutch to start my car and drove the beastie to CarQuest. I, with some more help, purchased and installed a new battery with no injury to myself. I made extra certain not to complete a circuit with my body. I'm currently pondering taking my car somewhere during my lunch period... where? Today seems to be an outside day. Ok, my CD-ROM drive is pissing me off. Suddenly it's pausing mid song. Tiny little (why is that redunancy so popular?) silence chunks are stuck in the otherwise smooth sonic peanut butter emitted by my speakers. Ok, Will and Jim are here so I'm leaving right now to go to Pizza Slut (Will said that, not me). Adios.
10/24/96 - Ok, New day, right? Let's see what's up here. Nothing exciting happened yesterday... well, nothing exciting happened around me. My friend Kevin called yesterday evening as the World Series started. When we hung up the Braves were ahead and looking good... oops. This morning I have a big cup of coffee sitting next to me... nothing new. Do you know one reason I really like coffee? It goes well with toothpaste. Most foods just clash horribly with toothpaste. I brush my teeth and don't want to eat anything for fear of a foul taste. But coffee, ahhh... perfection. Mint gum goes well with coffee, too. I prefer Winter Fresh gum. Those Nutra-Sweet gums scare me so I go for the better tasting full sugar variety. With what does coffee clash? I can't think of a single thing. I've not tried coffee and seafood but this restaurant I like in Charleston, SC (Hyman's Seafood) serves coffee after dinner; How bad could the combination be? Ben and Jerry's has an excellent Coffee/Heath Bar flavor... that's not really coffee, but the fact is well worth knowing.
10/25/96 - If you asked me "Hey, Lee, does the world revolve around you?" I'd answer honestly and say "No." But I don't think I really believed it until last night. First, some philosophy. I believe a person's actions define that person's beliefs more so than that person's words do. If I say I don't believe in violent action yet I go out smashing car windows with rocks every night, I'm a violent person no matter what I've said. The weight I place on actions over words makes me an Existentialist (I like that word, so I use it as often as possible). Anyway, let me describe the actions I've taken over the past 26 years exhibiting my strange belief the world revolves around me. Actually, that's a bunch of stuff; I'll stick to the recent. I want the Braves to win the World Series. In order to insure the Braves win, I drink, during every game, from the same blue cup on which I've written "Go Braves!". I have experimented with all types of ritual behavior (no living sacrifices) in hopes on ensuring a Braves victory. I even proved 0 is an odd number (maybe I'll save that story). Why do I do these things? So the Braves will win. Do I believe these actions will make the Braves win? I must; why else would I act? So, by doing these things I believe I (me, one little, silly, self centered person) am making a difference. Through some kind of warped logic I must have concluded the world revolves around me. Well, the Braves lost again; Sadly I have realized I'm not the center of existance.
10/28/96 - This day's words are dedicated to the fallen Braves. I accept with dignity. I won't downplay their defeat by saying "There's always next year." The fact is: They lost to the Yankees. My team was bested. I'm sad.
10/29/96 - Today is starting in a different way. I saw a cop in the left hand turn lane, sirens flashing but stopped dead still. I thought that was funny. I guess he was pulling someone over. Or maybe he had somewhere to be. The thing is: I don't know. It was something about which to think for a while. It made me smile. I guess someone could have been in trouble and there was help, stuck in traffic. That's sad. But I'd rather think about the brighter side. The funny picture of authority confounded by the same things that confound the rest of us. Maybe we just let things confound us. I found myself at work before I realized I'd gotten there. I spent so much energy on the cop that my surroundings passed unnoticed. Of course this may not have been a good thing. I don't think I ran over anybody or anything. I did stop thinking long enough to notice Henrico County's newest commuter amusement: The mobile radar billboard. This fancy, curious device tells you your transit rate and reminds you what your transit rate should be. I use it to check my speedometer. My car thinks it's transitting at 45 mph; the county thinks my car is transitting at 41 mph. The county will probably give me a 5 or 6 mph cushion; Maybe I'm safe in the 35 mph zone through which I was moving, right? Well, I'm here now and I'm in a decent mood.
10/30/96 - Thw window is open so the outside gets in. I can hear the giant jet engine looking thing out in the parking lot. What the heck is that thing? It spits out a fine mist of dirty water. My car is forever covered in grey crap. I started parking over by the gym and walking the last 200 meters. I didn't do this because of the giant jet, but because I enjoy walking through the grass between my car and here. Ok, I have a guess about the jet: I bet it causes the Earth to spin. This fails a few tests like: 1) How did the Earth spin before the jet was placed here? and 2) Richmond lies 37 degrees north of the equator; Why isn't the Earth more wobbly? There are answers to these question that satisfy my theory, but I still doubt my theory is true. So, I'd better start calling it an hypothesis since theory implies some sort of proof. I could completely ignore scientific logic (as is my custom when I feel like it) and stick to the word theory. Sounds good to me now. I, of course, reserve the right to change my mind regarding this word choice without any warning. I might waffle mid sentence. Ok, I'm just babbling right now. Fall air rocks; even if it is warmish.
10/31/96 - Happy Halloween. I'm dressed as Dilbert. I gave up a perfectly good excuse to wear a flannel, shorts and Chuck Taylors to work for a coat hanger stuffed up a tie and black loafers. Rapid subject change. I saw Agents of Good Roots last night; swell show as always. I can think of no music I like better than well written, well played, witty pop. It is these characteristics that define my musical tastes. Rapid subject change. Ok, I'm back to Halloween. Is there a good scary program on TV tonight? I like a good scare. There is, in my mind, a difference between a good and bad scare. A good scare is: alone at home, dark outside, watching the X Files with only a candle and the TV for lighting. A bad scare is: fast car, wet road, close call. See the difference? One is fun (and more or less in your head) the other could kill you. Actually, maybe bad scares can be in your head, too. I guess the difference is fantasy vs. reality. Well, maybe I need to think about this some more. Why am I dressed as a cartoon character? If the point of dressing up is to scare away evil spirits I've got it all wrong. Maybe I'll distract them with humor.