Buy Me Stuff (Pt. 1)

Somebody buy this for me. Seriously. It's, like, the sweetest Kings shirt ever. But it costs $49.99. Seriously. WTF?

Lipgloss

I guess this is the point in the proceedings where I'm supposed to say something poignant. It's been an enlightening week on a lot of fronts. I've learned that the more things change, the more they stay the same. We just choose to accent our personalities in this way or that way at any given moment. I suppose I haven't really changed as a person. I'm just putting forward better parts of my personality and burying less desirable ones. Or, at least, trying to.

I'm trying to avoid sweeping declarations here. There's really no point in doing that. I know that I'm the type of person who yearns to be loved, and I'm talking in generalities here. I take rejection hard in all forms. But I just burn with this passion to be loved and accepted and when it doesn't happen, I freak out. 2008 has been all about freaking out.

But the bad things I've done to other people shouldn't matter so much tomorrow. The bad things that have been done to me shouldn't matter so much tomorrow. I can only be myself and hope that's good enough for the world. The alternative, frankly, sucks.

I don't really know how to consciously go about getting what I want anymore. I'm taking baby steps forward. I had a really good conversation earlier this week with someone on that very subject. He's an amazing friend and I love him very much. He can see the progress, even if I can't. The good, or at least amusing, parts of me are coming back, bit by tiny bit.

I've talked before about getting my life back on track. Apparently, I was doing that the whole time and not noticing. Things are better now, even if they don't always appear to be from the outside. I'm capable of fixing my mistakes and finding true love and living again. I'm even capable of making new mistakes!

So, what was the point of this? I'm doing okay. I'm stepping outside and breathing again. I did a little casual dating. I've talked and opened up and caught up with a lot of people. I've even developed a stupid little crush I won't act on (I'm SO not her type). I'm getting hope back. Let's see if I can do anything with it.

Cuddles

One of my cats, Niro, is seriously independent. She doesn't like being picked up or poked or anything. She will come to you when she feels the need for petting. It's not that she's unfriendly. Quite the opposite, in fact. She's one of the friendliest cats I know. It's just that she has major cat boundaries.

As such, she never sleeps with me at night. That's usually Simon's job. It's also his job to wake me up in the morning with a well-placed paw to the eye, but that's besides the point. I bring this up because Niro has slept in my bed the last three nights.

The best I can suss out is that the latest round of Feral Cat Wars being played out in the middle of our street is bothering her. Both of my cats are indoor cats, so they mainly just watch as the neighborhood cats yowl and hiss and bat at each other's faces.

This week, the Feral Cat Wars have been especially loud. It's like the Kathy Griffin of feral cats has moved into the neighborhood and the paparazzi are on high alert. So, I get a little cuddle time with Niro out of the bargain. I'm just trying to enjoy it, since I'm sure she'll be back to being indifferent to my existence any day now.

Enter The Cheaptrix

$8.99 at Target last night. Seriously. All four movies, on two flipper discs. Yeah, the discs are fairly bare-bones, in terms of extras, but I can't argue with the price. We appear to be in that "end of days" period of discounting on DVD's. Here, take these four movies. Take them away from us!

Someone needs to remind the public that Blu-Ray players upconvert DVD's, so it's really no big deal to buy a lesser film on the lesser format. I mean, I do appreciate the discounts, but really?

And, really, I'd pay $8.99 for the first film and The Animatrix any day. Those other two films can go die. They're just frosting.

I wonder if I can convince the powers-that-be to put together sets like this for all the movies I've lost over the years? The Alien series? A Nightmare On Elm Street 1-578? Everything starring Clive Owen?

A Sign Of Things Past

I miss the old Welcome To Bakersfield sign on the 99 freeway just south of town. It was only around for about a decade, quickly replaced by a prettier, younger sign. The old sign was great, though. There was a hole in the sign, just under the To. At night, the entire sign would be lit, save for this gaping black spot in the middle. As if to say, “Welcome To Bakersfield, The Black Hole Of California.”

The sign was often a topic of conversation with Bakersfieldians. Just about any discussion about traveling back to Bakersfield from the Los Angeles area could lead to that sign. Just about everyone had an idea for slogans revolving around it.

* “Welcome To Bakersfield, Fill Us With Goodness”

* “Welcome To Bakersfield, We Could Only Afford 90% Of The Sign”

* “Welcome To Bakersfield, Not A Bong”

* “Welcome To Bakersfield, We Only Approve Of The Use Of One Hole”

* “Welcome To Bakersfield, We Asked For Something Holy And This Is What We Got”

* “Welcome To Bakersfield, Our Order For Welcome To Hell Was Misinterpreted”

* ”Welcome To Bakersfield, God’s Glory Hole”

* “Welcome To Bakersfield, Guess Where Los Angeles Sticks It?”

Admittedly, the vast majority of slogan ideas involve the hole and what it could be used for. I like to think that it was just a reminder of how flawed the city is. Even our sign is incomplete. Maybe the slogan should have been, “Please Come To Bakersfield, Complete Us.”

Munitions

Congratulations are in order for yours truly! I have accomplished another feat! I get to be the bad guy again! I have acted opposite another person and have, in the process, pissed them off enough to slag me over and over, in spite of a peace agreement. In a lot of ways, I’m used to it. Being the fall guy, being the last guy in the room full of weapons, it’s a familiar feeling to me. “Oops, um, these grenades are sooooooo not mine. Nor are the mines. Um, they’re yours, right? No? Fuck.”

I’m not blameless. Please don’t get that impression. I said a few things in a protected forum that leaked out. A few things that the other party found to be embarrassing. I get that, too. I’ve heard things I shouldn’t have heard before and was totally embarrassed, not because those things weren’t true, but because a few people whom I didn’t want to read them totally did. But that was before we met at the United Nations and agreed to unilateral disarmament. It turned out that there were a few spare munitions left, however. What’s that buzzing in my ear? Oh, BOOM? Okay!

Is this my last word on the subject (Or only word, for that matter…)? Probably. There’s no point in crying over spilled milk and there’s certainly no point in dragging someone’s name through the mud. The person on the other side of the negotiation table is actually a pretty nice person. The person on the other side of the Berlin Wall of our, um, hearts (My metaphors suck tonight.) is a pretty clever person with a great sense of humor. But we just argued and misunderstood each other far too much in the span of one short week to ever consider continuing our previous arrangement.

So, see you later. I hope you find happiness. I hope you find that true love you desire. If you ever need to talk to me, I’ll be over here on my side of the wall, counting grenades…

Excerpt 4

I’m sitting so close to you and it’s freaking me out. Our legs are touching out of necessity. I can feel the warmth radiating from you. I try to avoid eye contact, even though we’re talking. Everything that comes out of my mouth sounds ridiculous and I know it. It sounds especially ridiculous because I’m nervous. And I can’t stop being nervous around you, no matter how much I try to convince myself that it’s no big deal. I’ve convinced myself that you’d never have any interest in me anyway, so there’s no point in even thinking about it. But I can’t stop thinking about it. And that makes me nervous. Can you read my mind? I hope not.

I’ll admit it. I have a little crush on you. Okay, I won’t admit it to you, but I will admit it. I so clearly remember the first time I met you. It feels like it was ages ago. You looked surprised to meet me in the circumstances in which we met. Of course you knew who I was. You know everybody. But you knew me for a reason otherwise. You knew my family. But that was all there was, just a look of surprise and recognition. There was nothing else. But I felt something else, even if I didn’t know what it was at the time. I just thought it was fun. I enjoyed meeting you.

It’s not like we’ve spent mountains of time together over the years, just fleeting moments. But those moments were always so lovely. I don’t know what those moments mean to you. Should that freak me out? I hope it doesn’t freak you out. I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t know what it all means. I’m not appropriate for you, and I doubt you’d be interested anyway. For all our similarities, we’re just too different. You’re a genuinely good person and I’m, well, me. So, I convince myself that it’s a terrible idea to ever say anything, to ever act. And that’s okay, I suppose. Because I’d rather be nervous and be around you than never see you again.

Thank Ceiling Cat you’ll never see this.