Don't want a hippe chick, or a disco queen, just want the girl, from a na-nineteen eighty-three

The Annual Fremont Solstice Parade...let me tell you…boy-oh-boy...

I saw it coming, but nothing really prepares you for fifty nude cyclists riding around the block for 45 minutes on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Painted head to toe, not painted at all, young, old, tall, long, short, skinny, fat, A, DD, and everything in between. George Bush, The Pope, tree spirits, a guy that looked like he came from a Chemical Brothers video, Napoleon, a tiger, a cowboy, Spiderman, all kinds of stuff.

Yes, naked people are gross; I now have knowledge of this fact. However, from another perspective, the event was completely harmless and non-sexual. Families brought their kids (ages 1-15). We all sat around and cheered the crowds; many signed socially progressive petitions. Fun for all breeds, shapes, and attired. A dozen floats, dancing East-Indians, forest spirits, fertility gods, and “Beat the (George) Bush,” a ten foot president and a six-foot spinnable wheel with pictures of all kinds of nasty fates and their accompanying articles of destruction (the three-foot boot on a pole was my favorite).

The fair had a relaxed aura to it. No commercialization, no electric motors, no text. MSU really likes the environment. “Americans are too uptight about everything.Their religious “morals” often miss the point. They paint such a dark picture of human nature.” I had to agree.

Today, I decided that hippie chicks are not for me, not by a long shot. I should have talked to a few of them, but I wasn’t in the mood. For me, the general vibe of the event was good enough. Down in the park, a guy sang while playing an accordion. At the front of the dancing, thirty-person crowd was a girl, my age, topless, and painted red and white, head to toe.

“She’s cute.”
"....”
“Don’t you think she’s cute?”
“Mehhhhhh…I don’t’ feel any kind of attraction.”
“Well, yeah but look at her. There’s nothing wrong with what she’s doing. She’s not hurting anyone. She's just enjoying life.”

Such comments seemed to be the theme of the festival, and yes, I agree with the last part of MSU’s statement.

Returning to my previous point, today I learned, officially, that I like clothing. I like brassieres. I think razors are good, and I prefer that people exercise and be a little worldly. I admire many things in what I perceive as the hippie mentality. However, I definitely did not feel “at home” today. It’s very possible that “my people” may yet be found somewhere in this city, but Fremont is not that place.

Next Sunday is the gay pride parade. Maybe I’ll find my Missing Piece there. :)

New Wave Girl - Nerf Herder

You wore a shirt of violent green, uh-huh, I never understood the-fre-quen-cy, uh-huh.

Now that I have a little money, I’m zooming out to take a look at my material possessions and deciding what I can buy to make myself more desirable to all the new lady-types in my life. As you’d expect, I’m starting with my clothes. It’s funny, you work in a chemistry lab for two years and new holes never cease to appear weekly on even the best of Old Navy $10 T-shirts. I’d guess my average shirt has 20 sulfuric acid stylistic enhancements.

I bought some new stuff. Actually, I’m buying A LOT of new stuff. Actually, I’m virtually chucking everything but my newest shirts and favorite jeans. In some ways, it’s sort of sad. For example, I replaced my POS fleece with a Columbia jacket I found on clearance. The material is awesome; I think my new jacket even claims to be bullet proof (I’m trying it out the first robbery I encounter). However POS fleece was there when I was learning to tolerate the French as a greenie missionary (by “the Fench” I mean "my trainer"). POS Fleece was there when I saw my first sub-20 degree winter. POS fleece was there on rainy bike rides up to campus for my last two years at BYU. I really don’t want to see him go despite the fact that all but his main zipper have fallen apart and that his elastic drawcord broke in the first six months of ownership. Despite the fact that he’s too big and despite the fact that even my celestial mother said he was ugly. Despite the fact that he was never very good to start with much less be worth anything six years later.

POS fleece in many ways is like me. A while back, TB and I (and maybe Cinderella too) had a conversation about St. Exupery’s “apprivoiser.” “Ca signifie, ‘creer des liens..’” The world is always more beautiful in French. Literaly, the phrase means, “to create some ties/links.” The Fox and the Rose are special to the Little Prince because they are “unique au monde.” More accurately, they are unique to HIS world. I think real friends are similar. You hang on to them, not because they are particularly convenient or useful or even at all helpful, but because they have become special to you as an individual.

Where do such feelings leave POS fleece? In the closet for now. You'd better ask me again when I have to move back to Utah. Special things are great aids when I need to feel human, and on most days, there's nothing I want more than to remember the good times of the past. Nevertheless, nothing boots you back into reality like 12 hours crammed in a compact-pickup. It's only there that you realize what is truly apprivoisee and what is just a piece of crap you should have trashed years ago.
What's the Frequency Kenneth - Michael Stipe

teach me wrong from right, and I'll show you what I can be...Say it if it's worth saving me.

What does it take to pollute another person’s ideas? A stray thought? A bad comment from another person? Fifty negative comments?

Here’s the kicker. What if those original ideas ARE false? What if reality IS polluted? Say you have a choice: happy, motivated, and blind to reality or aware and unenthusiastic? As you probably know, I’ll always pick the latter when given the choice, but what about when I don’t know the choice is available? I WILL be happier and more dedicated to the cause not knowing the truth. How can I embrace a cause I believe to be either false or severely lacking in design?

I voluntarily choose misery over happiness (at times). If you ask me why, I’ll tell you it’s not really happiness v/s unhappiness; it’s fiction v/s reality. “Does that negative reality make you any better off?” Today, I say “no.” Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel differently.

Oh, and I finally started a fire in my lab today. As always, it was small enough that I kept it off the books. I’m like, 6 for 6 now.

Savin' Me - Nickelback. No I don't own one of their crappy CDs, I just thought these lyrics were applicable. Afterall, the group isn't ALL bad.

Caution on the road lies lies and hidden danger. Southern California's breeding mommy's little monster.

Last week I noticed movies were on sale at Hollywood Video, 5 for $20. Though it was impulsive, I figured I’d take a chance. How can you argue with $4 a movie? Here’s what I picked:

Closer
I Heart Huckabees
A Mighty Wind
Garden State
Big Fish

I’ve never seen the first three, but they seemed to have possibilities.

I’ve wanted to see Closer since it came out a few years ago. Critics gave decent/good reviews, and Natalie Portman and Clive Owen received Oscar nominations for their parts. A week ago, I watched it in my self-made home theatre. On a scale of 1 to 5, the film hits a 3 (1 being average, Goodwill Hunting being a 5, 12 Monkeys a 4, X-men a 2). Closer has four characters, a female stripper, a female photographer, a male doctor, and a male writer. Among the above actors, Jude Law, and Julia Roberts, can you guess who plays who? The plot is a heterosexual, love diamond, but the focus is on Jude Law. As Time Magazine reviewer remarked, it’s an adult sex movie without sex. Unfortunately, I can’ recommend anyone see it. In fact if you ARE thinking about seeing, I would discourage you unless you’ve spent at least 100 hours in a male, high school locker room. Is it that explicit? No. It’s beyond. If you DO see it and ARE able to see beyond the dialogue and STILL appreciate the movie's message, you win my respect. That said, if you actually ENJOYED it, I'm afraid you are too perverse for even me (but you can have my copy of the film, I'll sell it otherwise).

Last night was I Heart Huckabees. Coincidentally, Jude Law is in this one too. I think it’s a movie I’ll watch about once a year. Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin are Existentialist Detectives who “solve” the related problems of their patients. If you like artsy movies, you’ll like this one. I do suggest you skip the sex scene however. It’s less graphic than the one in Thank You for Smoking (which wasn’t at all graphic), but it’s also…well...a scene that involves sex. A half naked man? I don't want to see that.

Easy Target - Mark Hoppus

We once walked out on the beach and once I almost touched your hand. How I dreamed to finally say such things yet only to pretend.

It’s Saturday morning, and I’m fighting two mirrors in attempt to cut my hair in the back. My phone rings, so I stumble over to it, hands covered in hair, “Mike, I’m freaking out. I’m almost hyperventilating!!!” One of my bestest closest friends, Purdue Girl, was driving to a Church History museum in Missouri to meet THE GUY. She was introduced to him through a friend about a month ago. Email correspondence turned to phone correspondence which then turned to “talking until 3:00am” correspondence. In five minutes, she was going to meet him in person for the first time. As background, she had driven home to St. Louis for a couple weeks from Indiana. TG lived a few hours away, so it was a good opportunity for them to meet.

“WHY am I so nervous? I’m NOT like this.” “Because you’re playing for real this time. Trust me, I know how you feel. The most nerve racking moment of my life was a similar situation. Playing for real is stressful because you’re afraid of messing up. The outcome DOES matter this time. So what would you like? I can patiently listen as you explain your feelings and calm your nerves, or I can tell you what to do.” “I don't know what the hell is going on, tell me what to do." (I should have savoured the moment. I may never get that request again.)

In a nutshell, I told PG to breathe and the new situation changes nothing. When you play for real, you feel extra pressure to make things work, to the point of being somebody else even. Yet we know we’re not supposed to be somebody else, so red flags start going off everywhere. People get so lost in the moment, they forget that no matter what happens, the sun still rises in the East and credit card bills wait for no man. The good news is that unlike mine, this story has a happy ending (so far).

Talking to PG yesterday and last Saturday resurrected a few memories in me.

Love is absolutely the greatest in the woyld. To the best of my knowledge, the one thing better than being in love and absolutely enthralled with someone who deserves such admiration is having that feeling be mutual. It’s sad, but I think a lot of people go through life without those feelings. I think some even get married without them.

What does a person do when there is a void of love in their life? Becoming obsessed with something I don’t have is a trap that grabs me on my low days. I have a hard time imagining my life without love, yet occasionally, such a future seems rather likely. And the more I think about it, the more I obsess/worry, and the more unhealthy my thoughts become. Now that many of my closest friends are finding SO’s that are S in the long term sense of the word, I have to take a step back and observe. “How did this happen? Why did this happen? Am I doing something wrong? Am I doing anything right?” Unfortunately, I can only reach one real conclusion. Time and location do their own thing. (That and giving up and hiding in a pit with lots of cats is still a bad idea…for now.)

If you don't, don't - Jimmy Eat World

Loveline won't call back. they don't know, they don't care, they don't see, but I do. But I do.

I came out to Seattle with a lot of projects, some of which could be done while driving. Unfortunately, my mornings have proven to be less productive than I had planned. Adam Carolla has a radio show on 107.7 FM. For those of you who don’t know me, I loath radio shows. No seriously, I DETESTE the things with the unbridled fury of a thousand fire ants crawling up the naked leg of an unsuspecting intruder. The only thing worse than an obnoxious middle-aged overweight male who laughs too hard at his own jokes is two or three of these clowns placed in the same room with nothing but a microphone and some worn out sound effects.

Somehow Carolla is different. Don’t get me wrong he’s still a complete jerk, but somehow, he pulls it off well. He is what I call “the likeable jerk.” It may be that he spends more time insulting the world than laughing at jokes that aren’t funny, maybe it’s the show’s variety (Stock or NFL Althlete?, Sports with Dave Dameshek, Beat Daves Mom at Trivia, Movie Reviews with Ozzie, etc.), maybe it’s that I’ve finally given in to the forces of darkness, whatever the case, Carolla is good.

Show me a guy (or girl) who can pull off the "likeable jerk" effect, and I’ll show you someone I will like more than every nice person I’ve ever met.t

Teenager - Better than Ezra

I'm here hold on, to me I'm right here waiting. And take, My one last breath, and don't forget, That I will be right here waiting.

Friday night at the gym and pro-wrestling is blaring on the TV’s. Sorry 3M, after 30 minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore and changed the channel on 3 TV's.

It’s funny, I’m the only person I know who functions better with less blood in his brain. Whenever life sucks, all I have to do is find a way do eliminate my mental focus. Suddenly, life is not so bad nor is it so complicated anymore.

What does this mean? The Memorial Day diet starts on…Memorial Day of course. I’ll spare you the details, and no, there will be none before and after pictures.

Not Now - Tom Delonge

(Up the stairs: the station where the act becomes the art of growing up.)

My favorite CD of all time is easily Brand New’s Deja Entendu. I got the CD for Christmas a few years ago, and it’ s still getting better. The second track is about a kid who loses his virginity. When you look up the lyrics, part of the song goes.

He whispers that he loves her,
but she's probably only looking for s…
So much more than he could ever give,
A life free of lies and a meaningful relationship.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides.
He waits for it to end and for the aching in his guts to subside.

Now if you listen to the song, it sounds a lot like Jesse Lacey sings, “A life full of lies and a meaningful relationship.” Sometimes singers do that. They change a few words at the last minute. It’s amazing how much altering one little word can affect a song’s meaning. I hate to say it, but I prefer what I hear to what was supposedly written. Maybe I’m cynical about love, or maybe it’s like the rest of the CD. I can’t really relate to the songs at all, but the emotion behind them makes me feel right at home. I don’t know of an album that “fits” my personality better.

Sic Transit-Glory Fades - Jesse Lacey

Where the streets have no name.

I still don't feel like sharing all the detail of my job, but I will share a thought I found interesting. If a high school kid were to ask me about where in the world of industrial profession to work, I would draw him this picture.
You work where ever on the ladder you like. At my job, I get to see some of everything, and I must say, I see it more like this:
This picture opens for two ways to look at a person like me.

I could be an intellectual snob who only respects those who build the foundation. If you're a salesman, you must understand that the world will always go on fine without you. Your task is the easiest and the least important.

Or I could merely have found confirmation on what matters to me professionally and where I will be the most useful. (I.E. Like being a modern dancer, a job as a BS Engineer would never suit me.)
Vanessa Carleton singing it.

And your hair, smells of smoke. Who will cast, the first stone?

For the first time at the Renton Health Club, I saw someone at the gym who seemed to have lower body fat and bigger muscles than myself. That someone was a she. ‘Nough said.

So I had to get a drug test today. There I am, maneuvering my way through South Seattle, and I discover I may not pass it. During GG’s big 30 person party on Saturday, NM came and knocked on my door, “Mike if you feel uncomfortable, I could bring you up some food.” “Nah, no sweat, I was on my way down actually.” “Ok…do you mind marijuana? Two of GG’s friends are smoking it in his bedroom. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'm sure we can do something about it.” Two seconds later the scent hits me, but it wasn't too bad I go down stairs and notice someone else smoking it in the back yard. Oh well, I figure I got about 30 seconds of second hand exposure. Anyway, I hear that marijuana can stay in your system for a month. Now here I am, a mile from the Diagnostic office; what do I do?

1. "Uh, I kinda smell some pot at a party…so if the test comes out positive, it’s not my fault”
2. Turn around and do the test in another week.
3.”Hey dude, I MIGHT have some marijuana in my blood. What should I do?”
4. Do nothing.

Despite living in a society that proclaims, “Innocent until proven guilty,” I felt the converse. I was automatically guilty the second I hinted I may have seen weed in the past four years. If I was truly worried, I should have chose 2. But as far as doing it today went, I was hosed. If my test was positive, there would be no way out. Who in their right mind is going to believe a 24 year old single male (who they don’t know) that he hasn’t smoked pot despite it being in his blood stream?

I guess I think it’s sad that we’ve forced our country to be so distrusting.

Me vs Madonna vs Elvis - Jesse Lacey

With pretty eyed boys girls die to trust

Today had the potential to be my first real-life encounter with sex. Yes, for 24 years, I’ve survived in my naivety. My parents are still virgins. My high school colleagues kept it off school grounds. My mission apartments were all rated PG. But today was different. Towards the beginning of the week NM and GG both informed me that a “friend” would be staying the night on Friday. My female intuition kicked in immediately, so I asked for no further detail. (For those of you who don’t know, my room is separated from GG’s by a “Jack and Jill” bathroom with ill-fitting, latchless sliding doors. It works, but the privacy is minimal.) Around 7:30pm, I came downstairs already in “just about to go out for the night” mode. The four of us chatted and ate zucchini bread for a few minutes, and I was out. GG asked me if I was going out for a run (I detected no necessity in his question). After bumbling for a minute, I communicated that I was leaving to see a movie. Once they figured out what I was trying to say, GG and friend smiled and responded simultaneously with a hand sign and the phrase “poovie.” At first I was puzzled, but then it made sense. Make a consonant “P” and then an “M” sound and pay close attention to your lips. Can you see a difference? As far as I know, putting your hand an inch in front of your mouth is the only way to distinguish the two if you can’t hear, and how many people are going to do that?

It worked out perfectly, GG didn’t have to feel about bout putting me in a potentially awkward position, and I got to continue my naivety believing that sexual attraction exists only between attractive women and myself. Still, I left in violation of my morals; I went to a theatre alone. Knowing that I could have bought a new DVD or CD for the same amount, I reluctantly gave the nice lady my $8.50 and entered the theatre with fingers crossed. I guessed that “Thank you for Smoking” was the only movie with potential.

I think I guessed correctly.

This movie was one of my three favorite types. I call it a “life” movie. Aaron Eckhart is the main lobbyist for a tobacco company. He’s slick but not slimy. Throughout the film he poses several good questions and generates a fun atmosphere. I could learn a lot from his character. A little like SLC Punk and many other movies, this film has occasional pauses and narrations by the main character. I like this style. Rather than arguing that “evil” is subjective, Eckhart’s character claims that by definition, arguing is not about truth. It’s about being right, and the person who argues is always is. Pretty much everyone is a hypocrite. A Vermont senator (the always exellent William H. Macey) is pushing a skull and cross-bones sticker for every cigarette pack in America. Without giving away too much, in the final conflict, Eckhart reminds Macey that deaths from lung cancer are miniscule in comparison to those from high cholesterol. What is notorious for raising cholesterol? Vermont cheddar cheese of course, so why no poison sticker there? This movie was potent enough to enjoy, but not so contrived, I gagged at a lack of believability. Though the one and a quarter sex scenes have no nudity, sound effects, or passion, the movie is still an adult comedy and certainly worth seeing.
White Houses-Vanessa Carleton

If it makes you less sad, I'll keep out of the state. You can keep to yourself, I'll keep out of your way.

I’m going to talk about yet another unresolved issue of my past. Be ye warned.

After my first two semesters as a returned missionary, I returned home for the summer. There I met Magna Girl. She had moved to TN about eight months ago, and we got to know each other through the Young Single Adult group. MG was cool and fun to hang out with; we became good friends fairly quickly. Romantically, she wasn’t for me unfortunately. After I returned to BYU the following August, MG and I kept in loose contact and hung out over Christmas. Come January (I think), while talking on the phone, she revealed to me that her interest was not so platonic after all. In the nicest way I could conceive, I told her I wasn’t really interested in anyone. After an awkward pause, we changed the subject. A month later, we were talking on the phone, and MG says very casually, “Mike you’re just too good for me.” “You’re serious aren’t you? I think you’ve got me all wrong…” “No, it’s okay. I understand, really…” I couldn't change her mind.

Last year, another good friend WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS NOT THAT SHE READS MY BLOG OR ANYTHING told me on a couple occasions that I was good at making her feel stupid. It wasn’t in a “I feel dumb around you” way. It was a “YOU MAKE me feel stupid” way.

Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I put a lot of stock in how people treat each other. I cannot think of another human trait that carries more weight in this life and probably the next. Naturally, I’m not a fan of making the people I love feel bad about themselves. When a close friend, someone who knows and observes me well, makes a comment about how I’ve made them feel inferior, it cuts pretty deep. Not because, I’m offended, but because it probably IS my fault they feel that way.

I’m bothered by the use of the word “good” here. It is terribly subjective, and yet somehow it is more often than not a term for comparison. I don’t understand how me in my narrow little world defines how some people define "good." Even worse is seeing that dspite a close friendship, I’ve wrecked the balance.

I'm sorry to report I have yet to make everyone around me feel equal. (Please no commentary on this topic. I just have to create some record of my thoughts). So the question of the hour is, “What should I do differently?”

I imagine I’ll keep asking that question for a long time.

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot - Jesse Lacey

I'm learnin' to fly, around the clouds. What goes up, must come down.

I did it!!!! After years of waiting, I finally spent $45+ on a tank of gas, and yet…I somehow feel zero satisfaction. Can’t imagine why.

I finally went on my first real bike ride for the summer. Guess what? My legs feel like legs that haven’t biked twenty miles since last August. Again, can’t imagine why.

This townhouse I live in is located in a subdivision of sorts. This sub-division happens to have a small half-court and basketball hoop. I don’t know if you guys know this, but basketball hoops sing to me. They beckon my presence. As of the past few years, I haven’t had the time or the means to heed their call, but now it’s different. A couple weeks ago, I purchased a ball and began to re-hone my “skills.” (By “skills” I mean my ability to chuck the ball in the general vicinity of the hoop in hopes that it will connect with something other than the ground). So tonight I finish my bike ride and decide that it’s still too early to go inside. It’s like 9:40pm, and I’m out doing my thing. There is no sports commentatering at this point and little dribbling as I am mostly throwing air balls because my legs have forgotten how to do anything but buckle. Nevertheless, five minutes later, from OUTSIDE the gate. I hear an irritated, “SOME of us are trying to sleep!!” Now, my natural instinct is to respond, “So?” and go on my merry way, unfortunately, I have rules. “Never cross annoying busy-bodies you KNOW their true power.” Tomorrow, I shall find out, and tomorrow night, I shall tell said nuisance that if she wants my compliance, she’d better damn-well make it harder for me to keep my language acceptable in a PG movie.

Learning to Fly - Tom Petty

And you say we're to young, but maybe you're too old to remember.

At 10:30 MSU picked me up to go hiking. It was cool. I have fixed my pictures link so now anyone who cares can actually look at them.

Can you guess who is who and who is party three? (I'm standing on ledge. MSU isn't 5ft tall).


"Well, I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely."

Once again, life was good for an instant...

Who's to Say - Vanessa Carleton

Nanana life goes on

SHE'S HOME!!!!!!!! Today life is good.

If you want to, I can save you, I can take you away from here

The Renton health club is your typical gym only it’s not.

I have yet to see some one there who seemed to be in good shape, and consequently the posers are far far away. There is a sign at the south wall that says, “Women only section.” When there ARE women present, they are out of sight. The TV’s are all sports. The weights are exposed iron, so the only sound effects I ever hear are clanking metal plates, no pseudo-manly grunts anywhere. I never see more than a dozen people in the room that is about 5 four times as big as the combined student sections at the BYU gym, and I never have to listen to songs about lady lumps, bananas, or wishing my girlfriend was hot like some boney pop-star wannabe. So were it not for the over-chlorinated water the 10:00pm closing time, the place would be perfect.

A guy outside of Fred Meyer asked me for a couple bucks tonight. I gave it too him without hesitation. Is it odd that I find people who just ask for things so refreshing?

I had access to the TV for a change and watched the new episode of Smallville. I’ve decided that Chloe is awesome, and Lana sucks. The typical response to Lana’s character is, “wow, Clark is crazy not to stick with Lana; she’s so hot.” And she is. But she is soooooo melodramatic, “Clark, I don’t see how I could have EVER loved you.” “Clark, LEX told me HIS secret, and I’m FINE.” It’s like all she does is pout and look surprised. Chloe on the other hand does things. Yes, she is still a WB character, but when she kisses Clark in this episode under the guise, “I may never see you again,” something else is there. There seems something infinitely more validating about her love for Clark. For a brief moment, that show made me happy. Weird.

All You Wanted - Michell Branch

And scars are souvenirs you never lose. The past is never far. Did you lose yourself somwhere out there? Did you get to be a star?

Today Microsoft Uncle picked me up to go “orienteering.” Apparently it is a Swedish sport that is getting big in the states. It’s a race in a sense, but it’s also a treasure hunt. The clock starts, and they give you a topographical map with maybe twenty circled land marks and an electronic marker. In as little time as possible, you must navigate the terrain and physically tag them with your marker. It’s kinda fun. You can go hard-core and buy special leg protectors and thumb compasses and cloaking devices and flashy underwear, or you can go soft-core and stick with jeans and a map. I’m sure you have no idea which one I picked. My uncles and his co-worker friend make it a goal not to come in last.

MSU is a different kind of guy. We talked about a lot of things. My dad, my sister’s choices of SO’s, John Stewart, the church, being careful who you choose to reproduce with, sex, and how I should break it to my mom that I live with two homosexuals. When he was taking me back to my place, I discovered I really had no desire to go back. What’s that? I didn’t WANT to go back to my quiet neat house to be left alone!!! Maybe I’m not my father’s son after all.
Name - Jonny Resnik

He got to the heart of the matter and lingered...

Today I had my first official work meeting (two of them actually). The first was with the Advanced Development Group of six engineers and three interns. Smiley Intern and I were asked to present a project plan for our work for the next three and a half months. I presented my ideas much like I used in our research group meetings at BYU. I was advised to have more structure and a time frame for my itemized goals. Polish Boss promised me that if I would focus on the broad basics, the complex details would quickly fall into place. I’d like to disagree, but you know what? This guy is a lot smarter than me; I should probably trust him.

At lunch, I went to the company meeting will all forty employees. We sat around, and the CEO highlighted the recent events and contacts with other companies, the entrance of former friend into our “sand box” and the benefits of foreign employees and contracts. There was then a short presentation on chapter 9 of “Built to Last,” a book on being better at business. One of the sales guys headed up the presentation talking about principles like, “Good enough is never enough.” Apparently, I have to always be on the look out to make the company better, never being content, etc, etc. Honestly, it wasn’t too bad. I like my boss, and I like the CEO. All things considered, I think this place is a fantastic place for a people hating cynic like myself.

Honestly, it’s the structure of the business world, not the people, that bugs me. I hate the emphasis on production and schmoozing, yet, I do believe it is a necessity if you want to make any money. Blech.

But even more blech is the four slices of Pizza Hut pizza and two hot wings I ate after the meeting. Those people cram too much oil in their crust. I think I’ve had my fill for at least another year.

Who's to say that we won't fade to gray? Who are they anyway? Anyway they don't know.

Where there’s traffic, there is home. Every time I get lost, I just point my car in the direction of the densest traffic, and I’m on my way home.

Goatee Guy is a good fellow. He was born only able to hear loud, blurry noises. Now he does all kinds of work with deaf and/or blind people. He uses a live TV-phone translator to “talk” to people when he calls them. Today I learned that he can communicate to some blind people through touch signing. He and Nice Mom don’t eat red meat and like to cook soups and sushi.

NM is lonely I think. Her internet-based SO lives in England. It’s serious enough that she may move out there permanently at the end of this year. Last June, she finished a bachelor’s degree in women’s studies and hasn’t found a job since then. Now, most of her time is spent at home talking on the internet. I don’t know if she has many friends out here. Because GG is mute, she may go long periods without hearing a human voice. I can see how it could be hard on her. Without trying, I am already giving off the “if I wanted you to know I’d tell you” vibe. I feel bad, but what am I supposed to do? I spent the entire day reading about cryogenic engineering, looking up patents on the catalytic oxidation of Volatile Organic Compounds, and explaining to a physics major co-worker the mechanics behind isenthalpic Joules-Thompson valves. There’s not much in there that I can share beyond, “My day was good. I have a big stack of papers and books to read so I can get on my feet.” Admittedly, I can at least spend a few minutes to be friendly (despite having zero desire to do so).

SC is doing alright. NM has told him to treat the place like his own, but SC isn’t used to living in immaculate, unbelievably quite dwellings with a lonely woman who affectionately calls him “kiddo.” He likes having his evenings to himself, but as expected, he misses NCG, RCW, EG, and a surprisingly large number of others. Right now he still has the option of going to Purdue; the offer appeals to both sanity and vanity.

Something is again missing. That void means he continues to grow up and move on with his life.

As for my job, it’s awesome and very much like graduate school, lots to learn and lots to solve. I’m a little nervous because I’ve been given real responsibility and real stuff to learn/contribute. These are the moments where you know it’s time to sink or swim. Yes, you are still wearing a life jacket, but personally, I’d rather go out guns blazing than cower and try to wait out the storm.

It's alright and it's nice not to be so alone.

Do you ever have one of those moments where reality, though just like it always was, is somehow different?

Imagine for a moment that virtually every important thing you own is stuffed in your car leaving only room for one in the cockpit. Suddenly you’re 800 miles from home and surrounded by “different” people. In theory they’ve always existed, but seeing as you haven’t been around them since you were a teenager, your brain has long since begun grouping them with Santa Clause rather than real people (not to say that Santa isn’t real, he’s just so elusive you think he doesn’t exist…occasionally). In addition to being in completely foreign territory, you’ve been stuff in your vehicle for the past 12 hours with all the music on your computer, some Spanish, and a voice CD. Now imagine that your brain tries to process this material simultaneously.

You get a restless, opera singing Mexican totally weirded out by the fact that his entire existence spans only six feet from his body as he tries to figure out how in the Hell everyone he knew has been replaced by pointy-eared little men.

Maybe I just had too much trail mix.