Hotmail

Fuck you hotmail. Right now, I hate you. I don't have time for your mood swings. Last time I was online, you were fucking me around. And again, today, two days later, you decide to be "temporarily unavailable." I really don't have time for this shit. If this happens again, I'm going to have to start seeing other people. You're not making yourself available to me as much as I'd like and there are plenty of fish in the sea if you know what I'm talking about. Can you say Gmail?

Sunday sunday sunday!

Hell yes. It is Sunday. My new favorite day of the week. Because it gives me the opportunity to go to church and say my blessings. Yeah right. Actually Sunday is a great day only after 11am. When the bell tolls, I am a free man. That is, until my next class on Monday evening. A long and much appreciated break. Some downtime. Let freedom ring.

I definitely don't have it bad. I just have a rough stretch. And that stretch begins on Friday at 6pm. That is when my most despised class begins and fortunately ends a mere hour and a half later. I teach on Friday until 9pm. Then I go from 8-12, 3-5 and 7:30-9 on Saturday. And then go again from 8-11am on Sunday. It hasn't been that bad really. It's actually nice to bust out the majority of my teaching hours in this fashion.

But oh how I love the sense of relief after class on Sunday. What a fantastic time of day. Time to sing while I'm riding home. And then strip off the teaching digs and relax on the balcony before lunch. And then do whatever it is I need to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Today, that entails picking up my shirts from the tailor and going to play ultimate frisbee. This is what I'm talking about.

Vegetarianism

Why does it have to be so difficult sometimes? This trip has been surprisingly easy in terms of being vegetarian. There have been occasions, however, when I feel I am being put to the test. Like last night. And a couple nights before that. And two mornings ago. Fortunately, I know where to get good food and I'm usually at those places. Sometimes, it is necessary and fun to be amongst friends. And then I'm at the mercy of the menu of the chosen establishment.

Take my dinner a couple nights ago. I ordered the mixed vegetables and steamed rice. I ended up eating a plateful of bok choy and some carrot slices. Now, you might say, the menu didn't lie. It was in fact mixed vegetables. Yes, but it was clearly deceiving. And not satisfying. This is what makes people say, I could never be vegetarian. Neither could I if that's what I was expected to eat on a daily basis. Fortunately, I ate handfuls of peanuts prior to my dinner's arrival, reducing my overall level of agitation.

Let me give you one more example. Last night, I went out for hot pot. I knew I would have to order something individually as these types of things are never vegetarian. Not unless you go to an exclusively vegetarian restaurant. Duh. My mixed vegetable dish came out about as exciting as the one before. More bok choy, carrots, a spring of parsley and a couple twigs of broccoli. That was generous of them. But it was about as satisfying as a warm Coors Light on a hot summer's day.

This is why I can often be found at the same place day in and day out. Because the food is good. And cheap. And there is never a long wait. And I can practically order anything and be satisfied. Even if I may be addicted to soy sauce and chilis and pepper. It seems like I use more and more with each passing day. Maybe that's why I haven't tired of the rice. Because it's laden with salt and spiced so heavily it's always pleasing to the taste buds.

But I have no desire to be the antisocial creature that vegetarianism breeds in a non-vegetarian world. It's certainly a vegetarian-friendly world, but most people are not exclusively vegetarian. They typically abstain from meat only two days a month. So, not wanting to be antisocial means I will have to be prepared. I will have to bring snacks or eat beforehand. And I definitely have to have low expectations. Or I could just eat by myself where I want and talk to myself. Sometimes that works, but I'm not always good company.

Ants on my toothbrush

I like my new place, I really do. There are just a few minor things I would change. One of them is the ant situation. I however, can't really do anything about it. I don't mind the ants on the floor. I've grown accustomed to them and having them on my desk, books and occasionally on my person. I have not and will not grow accustomed to seeing them on my toothbrush. That is crossing the line.

Almost every time, three times a day on average, I am knocking my toothbrush against the porcelain sink. These ants, usually four of them, are clambering over the bristles presumably looking for something to eat. And they're doing it right in front of me! Like I don't mind. Like I gave them permission. I am the only one allowed to touch those bristles to my teeth. Get your own damn toothbrush!

What the pluck

I used to have moments of boredom, in which I would meticulously inspect every nook and cranny of my body that was capable of being inspected by my own two hands. It wouldn't happen that frequently, but occasionally I'd go on a mission to "clean" things up.

Cut the toenails. Clean out the dirt and sock fluff. Use a pumice stone to smooth out the calloused skin. Cut the fingernails. Clean out any dirt, trim any skin that was capable of getting caught and causing tremendous pain. Then onto the facial inspection. Tweeze out any offending hairs, usually sprouting from moles or too far from their nasal origin.

I never really put much thought into it, but lately I hadn't been doing too much tweezing. I was letting things grow naturally, letting things be as they are. If a mole was meant to have a two inch hair wildly growing on my shoulder then so be it! If that one on my chest was meant to have three hairs growing in opposite directions then more power to it!

I must have had a recent moment of boredom. I had a plucking frenzy. I think I nabbed about twenty hairs. Only the untidy ones. The ones that had no rhyme or reason for being where they were. If they didn't fit in that small patch in the middle of my chest or around my nipples, they were eliminated. Sorry guys. I won't miss you. I know I'll see you again trying to sprout through my perfectly manicured lawn and I'll find you and eliminate you like the unruly weeds you are.

Free ballin'

There was a miscommunication between me and the woman at my guest house yesterday in regards to my laundry. I know, an interesting topic for a change. I had pretty much worn everything once and was in need of some clean clothing quick. I especially needed some socks and underwear. She said it would be done that afternoon. Nice, I thought. Just in time for work.

So, I didn’t have to go out and buy anything new. I came home later in the afternoon to get ready for work. No laundry. Oh well, I thought. I’d have to free ball it and just hope my pants don’t split. Fortunately, they didn’t, but it was a tad embarrassing to occasionally sit down and notice my skin-colored socks shining through between my black shoes and pants.

I made it through the evening. Everything went smoothly. I got home and my laundry was still not done. They are very busy. Tomorrow. Ok, but I leave for work at 7:15am. It’ll be ready by 7am. It was not. So, today, I was at it again. This time I changed my shirt and tie and brought a spare pair of pants, just in case. You never know what might happen.

You have to be prepared for the unexpected. At all times. You know, what would happen if something went awry? What if I tore my pants squatting down to pick up that eraser that that kid drops every class? How many times can you use that in one sentence? What if I sprouted one of those erections from my teenage years? There’d be nothing to contain the monster. The beast would be unleashed. I'd never be able to live it down. Next time, I'm reducing the risk. I'm doing my laundry early.

E.F.I.

That stands for Eternally Frustrated Individual. That's me. That was also me, yours truly, that came up with that snappy little acronym. What a genius. I know. Patting myself on the back as I write. Maybe I should start a club and see what other frustrated souls I can meet. Maybe that would be too depressing. There would be too much pent up agitation and the room would blow.

Tyler Allan Pierce = TAP = Terribly Agitated Person.

I wish I wasn't this impatient. I wish I had more tolerance. I wish upon a star. I wish I could release the stress as it climbs into my shoulders and neck and the steam starts to billow out of my nostrils. It's never a pretty sight. But it always happens. Then I need to go away for a while and be a recluse and then come out again when the monsters have gone away.

Today, the monsters were tearing away at my insides. I couldn't escape a conversation I was having in 3rd grade English that was becoming increasingly frustrating every minute. Most conversations here are in remedial English and that has been a recent source of ire for me. What do I expect? Shit, if I spoke Vietnamese, I'd be speaking like I was in pre-school. And that's definitely an overstatement.

So, maybe by writing this, I will recognize my assholiness in conversing with both friends and strangers and give myself more tolerance. I know I have to speak slowly. I know I might have to repeat myself. Maybe even a third or fourth time. I know I don't need to get mad. But I do. I need to respect these people for making an attempt to even converse with me and pack it in when my internal temperature begins to rise. Take a time out. A deep breath. Or go hibernate. And stay in my cave until I'm ready to rejoin the rest of humanity with tolerance and compasison. I might never come out!

Random post #329

It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring. I love it when it pours over here. As opposed to when it pours back home and I'm frozen and miserable and all I want is a hot soy chai and a double chocolate chip cookie to take the pain away. Usually that’s the case anyway. Here, the rain is a nice respite from the heat. Although I’m not a huge fan when I’m actually exposed to the elements. I am saying this from the confines of a dry and comfortable room after all.

If, for example, I am on my way to work and getting drenched in the process, I am not such a happy camper. Nobody can be that happy when you’re camping in the rain. That sucks. But, on the other hand, if I’m just tooling about in my standard day-to-day attire, I could give a flying f-u-c-k and a solid drenching is thoroughly enjoyed. It's like being a kid again. Really. Silliness ensues. I’m ready for it now actually, just please wait til my class is over!

Temporary bliss

This is what I’m talking about. Finally able to relax a little this morning and I’m doing it in style. Sitting on my balcony in the shade being fed rambutans, hearing parrots go nuts and listening to Jack Johnson all while a gentle sea breeze washes across my face.

Rambutans, also known as ‘chom chom’ are good when you’re in the mood for them. Probably would taste better if someone was actually feeding them to me. I also lied about the parrots. I don’t actually know because I can’t see them. And there ain’t no sea breeze either, unless a sea of ramshackle, corrugated tin-roofed houses counts as the ocean.

But I’m not complaining. I’m digging the scene and my current environs. It would only be better if I had finished my lesson planning and there were scantily clad females running across the “ocean” in my direction calling to me with their siren’s song. I would definitely fall for that one.

I can’t actually see any ladies on the horizon – only with my mind’s eye. And I’m no longer listening to Jack Johnson. Now it’s Johnny Cash. And the breeze has died down enough for the sweat to accumulate on my upper lip. Ahhh, there it is again. I wish I could hear the gongs from the pagoda below and maybe catch just a taste of the incense.

I have to get moving again unfortunately. These temporary blissful moments are always just that – temporary. But they make you appreciate them that much more. When the sound of parrots playing turns into the revving of motorbike engines, when the bag of chom chom is gone gone, when the breeze isn’t doing its job…that moment is over.

My first wreck

It was inevitable. Bound to happen at some point. It just happened sooner than I expected. Rather unexpectedly. And I was on the slick pavement before you could say "Boom Boom." But I am ok, a little stiff around in the joints, bruised around the ego and scuffed around the elbows, knees and ankles.

I was on my way home from teaching. It had been raining and the roads were wet. And as much as I like to blame other people, I'll admit it. It was my fault. I was driving too fast for the conditions. I wasn't using my foot brake and I was trying to do two things at once. Never a great idea.

But still, she braked way too suddenly. And so I did too, but I had to release the pressure on the hand brake to prevent myself from potentially flying over the handlebars. The problem was she kept braking for no apparent reason. And so I had to slam on the brakes again and instead of slowing down just in the nick of time, I hit her back tire and slid with the bike onto my ass.

I got up almost immediately and stared in her direction as she looked back to see what just hit her tire. Bitch! I said under my breath while realizing I was just looking for an excuse. After realizing I was alright I also realized I should have had my foot on the rear brake. Would have probably kept me upright, but there's no saying for sure.

On the positive side of things, I learned some lessons. I'm not going to go into any great detail here. I also only ripped my least favorite pair of trousers. An excuse to go back to the tailors. And nothing else was damaged, well aside from some minor tweaks to the motorbike. Some repairable tweaks. I did ok I think.

It will happen again. It's only a matter of time. Now I'm ready. Bring it. Just kidding.

Save me

Well, yesterday I was engaged in perhaps the most annoying conversation I've had in recent memory. I was brought to the boiling point and was left simmering for a while. I don't need to do that again. Fuck off. Leave me alone. Go to hell.

I was basically tricked into meeting up with this woman. A French woman. First, she showed up 15 minutes late. I was about to leave. Fucking rude I do say, especially if you're the one wanting to meet up in the first place. Then to talk about the most boring shit I could possibly imagine.

Then to psycho-analyze me. Then to have your attitude completely change when I tell you I'm interested in Vietnamese women. And for you to draw more conclusions about me from that. Yeah, I like Vietnamese women because I want to "give back" or "make amends" for what we did during the war. Go take your B.S. and shove it straight back up your ass where it came from.

A temporary new abode

I have a new place. It’s only for a month, but I am very happy about this recent change of events. All it took was getting off of my ass. It was that simple. Instead of finding a permanent abode, I decided to rent at a nearby guest house off the main strip. And it’s way better. About half the price. And much quieter. And for some reason, I feel like I am in Thailand. I think I had a guest house there that had similar views. Nice memories.

I even like the fact I have trouble communicating with the women downstairs. It presents a new challenge. I clearly need to get off my ass again and be more proactive about taking language lessons. And I really like seeing different people around my new place. I will miss some of the faces around my old neighborhood, but it’s just a hop, skip and a jump away.

The only problem I can possibly foresee is not having air conditioning. And no wifi. But so far, my fans seem to be doing the trick. And I have three windows with – in my opinion – fantastic views of the surrounding homes. The lack of wifi will just make me seek out new hotspots from which to people watch and post new blogs. I think it will make me more productive as well. No more refreshing my email account every five minutes!

I even have a working television. Oops, there goes my idea of becoming more productive. Now, I’ll just watch football. And I have a wardrobe. A loveseat. A comfortable bed. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep again. I sure hope so. And for the love of Gad, my bathroom seems to be in functional order. Knock on wood. I will prey on Gad tonight to keep the foulness at bay.

Bye bye

A met a seemingly sweet gal a few months back in an Internet cafe. The fake curls and the low heels should have been a tip off, but at the time I just wanted a little loving. She was cute and flirtatious and so we exchanged numbers.

And eventually we met up at a coffee shop where I ended up eventually footing the bill. Since the bill was close to what I'd normally spend in a day, I was not happy. And you don't realize, I had ONE drink. And she and her girlfriend had lunch and drinks. Not the best introduction to dating life in Vietnam.

I have not seen this girl since. But she continues to text me approximately once every three weeks. Just checking in I suppose. At first, it was fun to play the game. Hi Honey! she'd write. I miss u! And other bullshit like that. And so I'd proceed accordingly.

But last time it got old. I asked when we could meet up in person. That it was silly to just be texting buddies. And she said that some people are just "pen friends". I don't want to be just pen friends. That is the dumbest idea ever, I thought. What's the point? I thought that was the end of our "relationship".

I was wrong. Yesterday, I received another text. Brought to you now in it's unadulterated glory.

Nhung: Hi Honey! Do u get a job? Do u remember who i am?
Tyler: who is this? how'd u get my phone number? yeah, nhung, i remember. u are my pen pal.i got a job now. everything is ok. and u?
Nhung: I get funny when u still miss u! And i am also funny that u have a job! Do u like ur job? Which job u got?
Tyler: U are funny that i have a job? Or are u happy? I'm working at vus in dist 5. Working tonight just on break..
Nhung: I'm happy that i guess u r happy with ur job, too! Do u have any meal with me for that? R u teaching english?
Tyler: No teaching japanese. Have a meal? Are u paying? haha

The End. So I hope...

The writing is on the wall

The writing has been on the wall. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. I have got to move out of this hotel before I go absolutely insane. How do I know this? First, the housekeeper is trying to come into my room at six in the morning. Six in the gad-damn morning! Can you believe that shit? Neither could I.

That was weeks ago now. And yet I am still there. Then my toilet starts emitting the foulest emanations. Ever. Bringing up stale stink from the depths of Saigon's sewers. Into my room. Up close and personal. Someone else's feces floating far too close to my nose. Unacceptable. Yet I seem to have accepted it.

That was last week. And then yesterday I found a cockroach in my bathroom. The first roach I have seen in any hotel in over six months! And it happens in this hotel. Another sign. I don't mind seeing roaches in the streets, but not in my room. Not cool.

What will happen next? I don't want to find out. Friday the 13th is this week. I don't want to be here. Not because I am superstitious, but because I am ready to move on. I have been ready. I was born ready. Get me out of here. NOW!

Bobby Brewers

I'm sitting in this cafe across from my hotel. I don't like the place. It's convenient and that's about it. There's too much ice in my overpriced orange juice. And too much foam too. I can understand getting a little too much head on your beer, but your orange juice? Scoop that shit off.

Then there's the internet connection. Which is ridiculous. Always slow. You'd think I'd learn from the last time I came here and almost threw my laptop on the ground. What else can I bitch about? Let's see...

When you walk into the place you are greeted by a sea of overfriendly people. It's actually nice. All these friendly smiles. Then you place your order, go upstairs and the smiles seem to disappear. Everyone is either a bitch or an asshole. And they all look the same. Black jeans, black t-shirt, black hat and some kind of Chuck Taylor look-a-like shoes. I'm surrounded by robots.

I think I made that last part up. Surely they're nicer than that. Just because nobody is paying me any attention doesn't mean they are rude robotic bitches. C'mon, I know better than that. I'll give them a second chance. I promise. I've actually heard they have good pancakes here. And the veggie meatball sub is supposedly pretty good too. And they have free movie showings in their upstairs "theater". It can't be all that bad.

So, next time I'll go elsewhere for Internet. I know this place doesn't meet my needs. And I won't get the foamy orange juice. It'll just make me wince and say it all over again. And it will happen again. But I will come back for the free movie and some fruit salad tomorrow morning. And I'll get a cookie. Those are good. And I'll try to smile. That usually works wonders. Somehow, as much as I know this, it's so easy to forget.

500g "burger"

There is a place in Saigon called the Black Cat that serves a 500g hamburger. There is no prize if you "win" - only the knowledge that you can pack it in. You don't get your picture on the wall. You don't your burger free. You don't even get a pat on the back. Maybe a smile and a sideways glance from the server saying you are one disgusting son of a bitch.

A few weeks ago we went to this place. A couple of the guys attempted and accomplished the feat. It was pretty disgusting (for me) to see the quantity of meat being consumed although I'm sure I would have attempted it myself had it been 1998 and not 2008. Being the eater I am when I want to be, I knew I could have done it. I like a challenge. And so I said I would have tried - had it been a veggie burger.

We went to this place again last night. I overconsumed on junk food throughout the day and didn't need anything. Besides, it was already 10pm. But when it came time to order, more than one of my seated companions seemed to remember something about me being up for the challenge. So, I had to do it.

I was surprised the restaurant was willing to change their menu. I kind of expected ten Gardenburger patties, but was pleasantly surprised to see one gigantic burger and vegetable-grain-based patty. Pleasantly is not quite the word I was looking for, but it works. It actually looked a little too much like the others, but my fears were assuaged when I noticed mine wasn't sitting in a pool of blood.

The first half went down quite easy. It took some time, but it was still surprisingly tasting quite good. All the extra tomatoes, pickles and lettuce slowed me down, but maybe they'll speed things up now if you know what I mean. Slow and steady wins the race. That was running through my head. It wasn't really a race. It was each man against themselves. I kept going and going like the Energizer Bunny because I knew if I stopped to exhale, I might realize how sick I was actually feeling.

I finished the "burger" and I'm still feeling it now. I'll still be feeling it tomorrow. I'm done with eating contests. Unless maybe I can win something from it. There's got to be a reward other than a pat on the back from your friends. It's time to do a fast or something. Or some kind of detox. Because this is no way to feel. Get this shit out of me!

Tired Tyler

Why why why why why why why why...am I so cranky and irritable? I have such limited patience and even less when I am tired, which seems to be quite often these days. I hate having a sleep deficit. I don't even like myself when I am tired. If I could go back to bed and retrieve those lost hours I would, but unfortunately it is not that easy. I have the time, sure, but my body, as tired and achy as I seem to be, cannot shut down. Alas. Woe is me. What a pity. Poor baby.

My Dad just told me never to tell anyone you're tired. And I think that's good advice. I'll try to follow that from now on. Just one more bitch and moan and grumble about it and I'll tell you everything is fine and dandy next time. Nobody wants to hear you're tired because if you are tired, then do something about it! And shut the hell up! Quit moaning and lamenting your state of being, get some rest and then come talk to me. But right now, in this moment, I'm shaky, on edge, gritting my teeth and ready to burst. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Waaaa.

Texting the wrong person

I've never actually done this. I mean who texts the wrong person? I guess I can see inadvertently selecting the wrong contact. Those buttons on the phone are pretty small and my fingers fumble over them. But what about responding to the wrong message? Who the hell does that?

Well, apparently I do. I have a date tomorrow. I hate using the word date. So, I am meeting a new friend tomorrow evening. I am intrigued by this girl. Earlier this week, I had another of these so-called dates with another fine, young lady. She wanted to meet again today. She asked me to text her my address and so I did.

Only, I responded to the girl I'm going out with tomorrow. What the hell am I thinking? I know I'm tired, but there's no excuse for interfering with your own business. I only found out when she texted me back with the following: Hic, my brother. With who are u making a tryst?

Hell, I'm not actually dating anyone so I could really give a crap, but still I don't want to make waves. I don't want to be that guy. I don't want to get a bad rap. No negative impressions. Just give me a chance. I don't know which way I'm leaning if at all. So, don't hold your breath and neither will I. But please, don't knock me out before I've even stepped into the ring.

Wednesday's grumble

Maybe I should call this blog the Daily Rant because there is rarely a day I cannot refrain from doing so. I'm over it really cause this is my outlet. My release. Thank you for being here. Here I sit by the fan in the confines of Le Pub on a small street between Pham Ngu Lau and Bui Vien sipping an avocado smoothie and awaiting my falafel sandwich. I love the rice and vegetables, but sometimes I'll pay a lot more for a little more. Substance.

I just got a haircut. Because it's what the ladies want. Short hair. Okay, fine. I was growing shaggy again and well, I guess it just wasn't acceptable. It's too hot here for long hair anyway. I didn't sleep that well yet again last night and the aggravation is beginning to accumulate. I just don't understand it. I've been laying off the caffeine, the booze and you'd think the tiredness would just hit me one day. I keep hoping it does.

My falafel sandwich is leaving a lot to be desired. Perhaps say real falafel? And this fly won't leave the other half alone. Shoo fly don't bother me. The potato wedges on the other hand could possibly be the best potato wedges on this side of the planet. I'm not sure what I need at this moment, but whatever it is, surely cannot be obtained through the big gaping hole in the front of my face. As much as I know this, I somehow think momentarily it is easier to fill my face than it is to fill the hole that resides within.

I need some attention. I need to be giving some attention. I need to get more involved. I need to play football and ultimate frisbee. I need to make a greater effort to learn this language. I need to find a place to live. I need to stop driving like a madman. I need to chill out. I need to breathe. I need to eat better. I need to smile more. I need to take off my glasses and stop noticing all these beautiful women. I need some hydrocortisone. I need a mango. I need to pay the bill and get out of here.

P.S. This blog posts Pacific Standard Time I think, irrelevant of course to where I actually may be at the moment, therefore when I wrote "Wednesday's grumble" it was still Tuesday back home. Just making sure you understand. Thanks. Ciao.

Something positive

What? Am I not going to bitch and moan and rant and rave as per usual? About the state of my world? About me, me, me? Well, this is my blog. And I can do as I please, but still, this may indeed be a first. I'm not sure, but I feel that maybe you've had your fill of whine. And besides, I just feel like writing and I have nothing new to bitch about since yesterday.

Well, except that I'm achy and tired today. I didn't sleep well. And they put way too much ice in the beverages in this cafe. And whenever I pick up my drink, the condensation on the bottom of the cup always lands in my lap. I did not just pee myself! And this guy is exposing his chest on the balcony. Dude, button up your shirt. You are not at home. I think that's it.

Anyway, I feel good today. I just had a nice iced tea and an apple turnover. I didn't see a whole lot of apple, but whatever, you can't let the little things get to you. Look who's saying that! See, I must be in a good mood.

The girl in this cafe has a nice smile. She has brightened my day. I'm inclined to smile more because of it. The domino effect. Why don't we all smile more? It's so easy, but yet so hard when we just aren't feeling it. Because when everyone's against us or when it feels like that, it's really not justifiable to yourself to smile when you want to growl instead. GET IT OUT. Grrrr! And then let it go...

And then there are the folks at the tailor shop around the corner. I'd already purchased a couple shirts from them. One of the ladies was incredibly friendly. The price was right. So was the vibe. I had them tailor me some shirts. And as far as I can tell, they came out perfect. I'm going back. If clothes can give you confidence, then buy more of them and wear them often!

I played some pool last night. I'm getting better. It's actually kind of fun. I dug it. Even though I lost two of three. To a girl. It just doesn't matter, right? As long as you're having fun. It's like golf, you can have a terrible score, but be content knowing you mangled the hell out of some of your shots.

And then there are the people. Friends trying to hook me up. People trying to teach me their language. Good supportive teachers at school. Friendly folk at the bar. Beautiful, smiling women undressing me with their eyes. It might be the other way around, but whatever. It's good to dream. But it's also good to take action on those dreams.

Slowly, slowly, slowly. Taking baby steps. Progression towards something every single day. No stagnating. Things start to get funky when the water gets stagnant. Keep busy, keep learning, keep growing, keep yourself interested and interesting. It's an upward spiral for a change. Maybe it's just momentary, but you have to indulge in the temporary nirvana whenever you get the opportunity.

It's a set up!

I'm open to anything. Really. But if you don't get a sense of my personal preferences prior to setting me up, you're more than likely to miss the mark. You're swinging that hammer with your eyes closed and you're going to miss that nail. Unless of course, I'm desperate and as much as it sounds like I am, I'm really not. I'm still one picky S.O.B.

I really appreciate any endeavor undertaken on my behalf. I mean, you try to make a match amongst friends and there is nothing in it for you. The effort there is greatly appreciated. But next time, if there is a next time, please find out my tastes. There seem to be millions of them roaming about and yet you still managed to find someone I could barely stand conversing with let alone look at. I'm sorry. I'm being rude.

Just know it is truly appreciated. The "date" just went on a little too long. I became internally agitated. The strife may have been visible on the outside as well and if so, I apologize for that. Everything was running amok and I had to get the hell out of there. And when we finally made like a fetus and headed out, I cannot begin to describe the sense of freedom. And it happened just before the implosion. The meltdown was only minutes away.

Getting tired of this

Pulling out of the "driveway" knowing that it is about to pour with rain. The thunder has rolled repeatedly. The sky is very gray, but is no deterrent. I am done with class and a drive and a drenching sounds good. Besides, my destination is the house of a female acquaintance. And that fills me with enough gusto to get off the bed and off my lazy ass to actually do something with the rest of my day.

The drenching comes quickly. I wore a hat to prevent the rain from soaking my glasses, but my clarity did not last long. I was seeing spots. Many of them, but I persevered and managed to enjoy the drive despite the additional concentration necessary to combat the increase in foolish driving maneuvers including those of my own.

At one point, the street was covered by a few inches of water. That was fun. I finally found my destination by chance and waited for the girl. I could not go in the house. Then we went to a coffee shop. With her sister. Another sister. How many sisters do you have? And how long does it take for us to go out alone? And no, I'm not paying for you all this time. And you know, I'm tiring of this. And I don't care anymore. I don't. I mean, yes, I do, but I don't.

I'm fed up and tired and cranky and losing my patience. I'm not trying to take things too fast. I don't need what you think I need. I can appreciate just holding hands. But what grade am I in? Am I in a museum? Look, but don't touch! Maybe you're still in the minor leagues, you know what I'm saying? I'm by no means a professional, but it's hard to play ball with someone who can barely catch. You catch what I'm throwing at you?