Trials of Chastity

[Yonphi]

The new greeting on my phone is "LOL internet"

1. c/o USPS.com
Current Status
You entered 0391 0461 7040 0000 7132

There is no record of that item. If it was mailed recently, information may not yet be available. Please try again later.

Aw, no fair. I swear I was there on the 15th.

2. c/o jacon.org
JACON again will be having its Anime Music Video Contest, to be held on Saturday, April 16, 2005. As with all contests, this one has a few rules.

Yes, I'm going this year. Yes, I'm entering this time. Yes, I'm going to have more fun this year. No, I don't expect to discover any squatters in my room.

3. c/o Koolance.com
The Koolance aluminum PC3-720 professional line is optimized for performance, offering enormous flexibility with up to 700W of heat dissipation! Dual 120mm radiator fans further reduce noise levels, while 3/8" (10mm) tubing tackles dual CPU, dual/SLI video coolers, and other demanding setups.

Why does this turn me on? Does this turn any girls on too? Maybe we got someth--
Seriously, my only decision would be Black or Silver.

4. c/o Craigslist.org
Date: 2005-02-09, 4:36AM EST
19 yr old white girl, 5'5, 120, long straight shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, size 32A tits is seeking complete total strangers to get in bed with me while I lay on my side....you get in bed behind me on your side, lift my leg up and slide your dick inside of me and let it rest in me while we just talk. Love to meet total strangers this way.

Somehow, in looking for employment here, I managed to ignore these sections outright. Somehow. Havn't the slightest idea. Gotta say, though, this is perhaps the most out there I've managed to read in this hour.
Oh, and, wuh?

5. c/o Adequacy.org
8. Is your son obsessed with "Lunix"?

BSD, Lunix, Debian and Mandrake are all versions of an illegal hacker operation system, invented by a Soviet computer hacker named Linyos Torovoltos, before the Russians lost the Cold War. It is based on a program called "xenix", which was written by Microsoft for the US government. These programs are used by hackers to break into other people's computer systems to steal credit card numbers. They may also be used to break into people's stereos to steal their music, using the "mp3" program. Torovoltos is a notorious hacker, responsible for writing many hacker programs, such as "telnet", which is used by hackers to connect to machines on the internet without using a telephone.

Wow, just wow. Jeff K., we have arrived.

 

[Yonphi]

Grizzly Adams

I've been raising a child these days. His name is "Beastlord." It's my beard.

This is going against my better judgement. There's this impression that people with facial hair are not trustworthy, dangerous, and all sorts nefarious things. But it's a change. And it's an easy change.

One idea I've kicked around for a while is that girls like the bad boys. There is the concern that this is just a view from the outside looking in so it could just be a delusion.

I'm lonely, and if this gimmick can generate anything to the contrary, then it's worth it. And it's super easy to do so...

Although, it itches like crazy. And I fear that it will become curly, and I won't stand for that, definitely not. So far nobody seems to like it. Which is completely fine: I don't have any luck in my current environs, so if a simple decision I make can modify the environs, perhaps my luck will change as well.

But it's just a gimmick.

I don't really know what's next, really. Grabbin' for straws. I remember worrying about not having any options. I'm quite simply not motivated.

And the question is why. Why am I not motivated? Maybe because my actions are most often fruitless? So why try?

With that, it finally happened. I can't believe it but it has. I've given up.

So, here I am.

Yup.

You betcha.

Right here.

Not doin' much.

The fact of quitting, starin' back at 'cha.

Yeah, it sucks. When one is in quicksand, you're supposed to lay still because the more you struggle the deeper you sink. In my case, I'm sinking. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. When they strap me into the straightjacket, either I can be kicking and screaming and making a scene, or I could just lay back and be dragged.

Looks like my beard has taken a life of its own already.

 

[Yonphi]

Redress and Not Learning

It's official. Play and her husband are no more. This is relevant for a reason different than you may think.
Every so often she'll send me a message. Communication is sparse and quick. My openness all of a sudden became abject closedness. (Are those even words?) All of a sudden disclosure became a dirty word. "Anything new going on?" "No, same old." Which is partially true, but it used to be so easy to talk with her and pick up any topic and run with it for half an hour. Not anymore, not anymore.

But she's been talkative. I guess she hasn't anyone to confess to. Sounds like someone needs a journal (not to be an elitist, but somewhere else, plz... that would REALLY make things weird). Plans have begun to move in with Replacement.

From all the negative feelings I've got, for being strung along, used, toyed with, poked and prodded, I have to admit her impending divorce is melting my heart a bit. In the perfect world that I could envision, that should never happen. Not because it's wrong, but nobody would ever need to divorce. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Nobody deserves it, regardless of what their spouse may think.

Then I recall that she's the one who cheated on him, and that he's being a jerk and cold and calous because she betrayed him. I got pissed off when this friend betrayed me so I can imagine he's pissed above and beyond that. So I don't want to hug and comfort her.

Instead I'll just shrug.

I know I'm going to get burned alive for thinking this out loud, but it's interesting how sure of something one can be, only to be sure of the opposite later in life.

In the meantime, I for one am sure of one thing. I don't learn and I'm fairly dumb. I just asked out Vouge on a date via e-mail. I am absolutely setting myself up for a "thanks but no thanks." If she wants to be cute about it I might get a "let's not and say we did."

Yeah, I know, I'm supposed to be given up. Congress of my head is about 55% in favor of being a filthy quitter, but there are cries for a 2/3 majority.

Is it funny? Imagine a hamster reaching for a pellet getting electrocuted whenever he touches it. But he's hungry, so he keeps grabbing for it, getting zapped each time. He doesn't learn, but he has to take the chance that, this time, maybe maybe maybe, he won't get fried.

Well I know electrocution isn't the same as the risks I face, but I'm running out of metaphors.

 

[Yonphi]

Children and Death

What was I thinking e-mailing a date request? Arg, at least in person I get rejected outright. This way it just stews.

Stew stew stew.

I wonder if electroshock therapy would help.

Sometimes I wonder what exactly the original tactical mistake was. You know, the Patient Zero that started the chain of events that lead to my very major flaws. "I might have been normal," I think to myself, "under the proper circumstances."

A coworker's wife had just recently found out she's pregnant. They're newlyweds, and this is their first child. All of a sudden I look inwards. When my father was my age, 25, he would have discovered that his wife of three years is pregant with me.

I've never been certain about children. I don't really like kids. I think I'd be ok from age 0 to 2, and then from 18 onwards. Although, I continue to think and recognize that what I have the most pride in are what grow under my influence. And I wonder what my children would be like as adults, if I could protect them from falling prey to the same style of doubts and trials that I put myself through. I think I'd be a great father, however. Although a little lacking since I can't teach my son to throw a spiral, I can't warn my daughter on tricks boys will play to seduce her, and when I'm asked "Dad, did you ever try drugs?" I'd say I never had, and they'd think either I'm a total square or a liar.

If I were, I'd like a son and a daughter. Feh, I'm specifying as if I'm going through an orphan catalog or something.

I wouldn't want to father a child outside of marriage though. That doesn't seem very attractive to me. And my family values? I think it'd be groovy if both parents could afford to stay home with the children. That'd be a great environment. I know I would never ask my wife to put her career on hold: that's something she'd have to decide on her own. But I absolutely would take every effort I can to stay with the kids. I'd still NEED to work, since it's good to keep busy. The benefit of a computer career is that under some conditions, sometimes, maybe, I'd be able to work from home.

"First things first, Yon. You're sweating over a date, I think you've got quite an uphill battle before you start thinking of kids."

Ah, well, maybe it's not so much children per se as it is aknowledgement of my mortality. It had to happen sooner or later.

If I were to discover that I only have 2 months to live, I don't think I would tell anyone. I'd probably do a little investigating about whether or not someone else can get stuck with my debts after I die and, if not, quit my job and run up a huge debt exploring as much of the world as I can in 8 weeks. I would just update my death letter to say that I knew but I didn't want to tell anyone.

My epitaph? I don't know what it will read. I guess I would have to decide before the end. If I had an iPod I would get "Property of the RIAA" engraved on it, but that simply will not cut the mustard on a tombstone.

Don't know too much about that part. But going back to kids for no particular reason, I'd like to declare that trying to make them sounds like fun. That is the official Worst Cliche Joke Telling Ever.

(I've referenced this before, but here it is again, this time in audio form:Add It Up)

 

[Yonphi]

The Date Fund

One thing I've quietly done after starting to work again is set aside some money each week into a "date fund". The idea follows that of a self-fulfilling prophecy. That is, if I act like it'll go that way, it will. It's supposed to go both ways.

"You're always late, Mr. Latenick McLate." If you say that to him often enough, eventually he'll just be late all the time. It becomes him.

So far nothing's really worked that way. I remember buying trinkets I would need when I move out: a neat salt shaker, linens, kitchen tools. Yet, we all know I didn't. I still have them, unused, still in the packaging. But that's fine. I can at least continue to try.

As you can imagine, this date fund, without a girl to show a good time with, does not have a sink so it needs a little assistance to prevent from going out of control. I felt there is far too much in the cookie jar to justify it on a first date, I pulled some out to get myself some addiction quenchers. Video games, porn, Magic cards, the usual. And so the cycle will continue.

If I can't have myself a good time in someone's company, then I'll have myself a good time in my own company.

Something comes to mind, though.

Almost two and a half years ago I made a series of posts regarding prostitution. One particular quote:

Cheating. It's cheating to have to resort to paying to get laid. At least for the first time. I need to do this on my own merit.

Well, the situation has changed. First time is gone. Is it still going against the rules, then?

There are problems, of course. I'd have to go somewhere, and there that whole law thing that would be pretty annoying. Plus I wouldn't feel good at all if any portion of payment went to a pimp or some kind of indentured servitude kind of arrangement.

I'm probably not going to. I'm just throwing ideas in the air here and see if the flies stick. The structure is there, with the date fund, to go about this if I felt the need to.

I'm just so lonely. There really isn't anything I wouldn't give to be liked right now. The problem is that I'm trying to fight the world. I'm trying to fight the way things are supposed to be. I'm trying to disturb the order of the universe which states I am to exist in isolation. I dare defy and the iron grip has gotten tighter and not so much as a breath of fresh air am I allowed.

This is also prompted by that dream again. The blue angel one. I really don't know what's going on with me. I am so glad I can at least put a wall between it and my "human interface" as to not to show anyone the turmoil within my soul. Turmoil? Nah, it's settling down. This is not a good thing: when the will to fight is gone, what is left?

Todays' Date Fund withdrawl: Taiko Drum Master. A game where I literally strike a latex coated plastic drum on the surface or side with either of two thick plastic drumsticks in time to music. It's loud. It's fun. Like I said, I'll have a good time all by myself.

 

[Yonphi]

Beastlord stirs

So far I'm almost to the point where I can run my beard test. The idea is to take a picture of myself as-is. I would do my thing, what I used to do, and see what becomes of it. I think I'm a little too old to look like an undergrad and I'm not nearly as well read as a grad student should be. Actually, no, that's not true, but having half of my favorite authors at Cult of the Dead Cow doesn't count, I don't think.
Next day I clean it up. Full on lumberjack beard but something with some shape. Repeat. Then a Kevin Smith beard. Then a goatee. Havn't decided if the next step from there is a mustache or a soulpatch. Then clean shaven and give that a shot. Results will be summarized for YOU. Shiyeah, that's right.

So far it's really interesting. Personally I'm starting to dislike it, I think it's developing a curl to it and it's kind of gross when I have an itch to scratch on my face and there's all this stuff there.

But I am getting looks. They're looks similar to what I imagine one would get if they had a physical deformity, but they're looks. Cry for attention? I won't comment on that. What I will say is that it really IS amazing how one's physical appearance impacts the reflected vibes of others. I recommend everyone take a week and "let themselves go" so you can realize this fact.

*gear shift*

My brother talks to my family all the time. I don't. Yesterday he was pleased that he got a nice room in Orlando for a really fantastic price for his romatic getaway with his girlfriend. He told my mother, and always the supportive woman she is, immediately said "Must be nice not having to pay bills."

There really was no need for that. I was extremely mad on his behalf. And I know she would say that, too. Sometimes people wonder why I try to shield my life from my parents, and that's why. Abject lack of support. Aren't I supposed to have been taught "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all"?

In spanish there's a saying "no inventas." It interprets in English as "don't start making things." I remember as a kid hearing this over and over again every time I tried to improvise something. There was a time I discovered socks on the waxed polyurethane floors in the apartment hallway were heavenly. And when I stepped outside and started running in place, I would get yelled at. "No inventas." I took to eating in the bathroom above the sink because I couldn't reach above the kitchen sink. It was because I thought I was saving everyone the trouble of dirtying a dish. "No inventas." Wanting to make a Slinky mobile in my room instead of the fish one I eventually got? You guessed it. "No inventas."

It's no wonder I just stopped sharing my thoughts.

You don't want to know any of this. See, this is just not part of the universe of discourse on ToC. But I'm sharing anyway.

I still remember how incensed I got the second time she met Nature and pulled me aside one day and gave me a leading set of questions to assist me in thinking like she does and look down upon tattooed persons. Eventually she stopped it when I just wasn't interested and she knew I wasn't going to regret anything.

I'm very thankful I've had to think out my moral structure on my own instead of just take the one shoved down my throat.

At that moment I decided to take a flip and decided to inform them I was fully aware that they are going on a trip to California next month. And since I like duality, I commented that it must be nice being a two-income household.

"That's right, maybe you should get married to know what that's like."

Shazbot: trounced.

One of the things I was originally worried about as far as extended living here is that The Lie would be exposed. All of a sudden I'm not "meeting people." It didn't really matter because I don't tell anyone anything, but asked a direct question I need an answer.

But today, I will leave you with a literary quote.

"There is nothing wrong with being scared...as long as you don't let it affect you until the danger is over. Being hysterical is ok too...afterwards and in private. Tears aren't unmanly...in the bathroom with the door locked. The difference between a coward and a brave man is mostly a matter of timing."
- quote from Job by Robert Heinlein

 

[Yonphi]

Symbiosis

Mathematically, the notion that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts is interesting. One could say that all of mathematics revolves around breaking things down to a point where you can micromanage. Be it algebra, looking for patterns, or counting towards infinity, it's breaking things down to the miniscule and letting the axioms do what they do. If the whole is not equal to the sum of its parts then none of this works. The best I could muster from this is that the more operands in a sum the more numbers you've got and therefore, if anything, it should be more than the whole.

But things aren't that way.

Today my back ached like I wouldn't believe if I went back in time and told myself two days ago. I practically broke into spontaneous prayer for someone to just give me a little massage. And something winked into existance. I can't give myself a massage. Just not possible for me to put the kind of pressure on the parts of my body I would need. Two people, together, could create much more than just the two of us separately.

It made me hopeful, because a person is essentially incomplete without another, which is some assurance that someone could want to be with someone like me. And then it made me feel horrible, because I'm incomplete and will continue to be so. It does help me understand how people not meant for each other continue to persist. Because being alone sucks. I assume the only thing worse than being in a relationship you don't want to be in is looking for one.

If you recall in my last post, my giving anything to not be lonely, an interesting thing happened. Going through bookmarks I went back to some personal sites I had visited prior. Didn't do anything, but that's fine. A day later I get a message. Evidently whenever you login they declare that you've been there in the last such-and-such timeframe and move you to the top of the list.

Yes I jumped right on it.

And what happened in response? Invitation to view her "home page" which she "just made that night" which, incidentally, was subscription-based password protected.

Because if there's anything I like, it's being tricked. And how I was. Now my email is on another 500 horny-guy-email-address lists.

There are some things that cannot be done with only one person alone. That sort of scam is one of them. And not exactly what I had in mind.

 

[Yonphi]

Learning by Observation

Today I started cleaning out my room a bit. I definitely have pack rat issues. Lots of things that need to be kept track of. One thing about inventory systems is that it takes more room to keep an efficient and quick storage area than it would to just cram everything in as packed as possible. Notice quick is part of it. I had a system for a while to store spare computer parts which made great use of space and had a great implementation of a packing algorithm but the packing had so many layers of complexity I ended up having to open and move 4-6 things to get at a small little something I would need.

Part of the Art of Moving is packing things as tightly as possible into boxes. With the exception of fragiles, if you keep things in regular shapes it becomes easy to nest things into each other and there are fewer "odd shapes" to damage and be damaged. It's pretty easy to do the nesting game correctly after you give it a few tries. Crock pot can store things in it. Large hunkin' boxes make it easy to keep track of inventory, while small inner boxes inside those boxes make it easy to move and distribute unlike things.

Anyway, I found the birthstone I've kept just about forever. I don't recall how I got it. I don't know if it was given to me or what. It's a chunk of raw amethyst. I've always been attracted to this crystal even before I learned that it's my birthstone. I remember walking into nature stores and seeing huge 5 foot high half-egg-shells of pale gray rock with glittering purple gems jutting inwards.

Out of boring ugly rock bursts forth an inner strength and beauty. I wanted to be amethyst when I grew up.

Today I checked the mail I recieved yesterday. I've been invited to a wedding. It's someone I used to work with, how they got my address is beyond me, but that's fine. The invitation is for myself "plus guest." Hmmm...

Never been to a wedding before. This alone is making me want to go. But I don't know what is appropriate. It's just not something I spent a whole lot of time researching.

But I don't know if I'm allowed to use only half of the invitation. It's nice to bring a guest, but, who will come with me?

...

Actually, that's a great idea. Can I bring my mom's cat?

Not expecting a life-altering event, though. Not for me, thankfully. But it'd be nice to see how chapter 3 of people's lives begins.

 

[Yonphi]

If you were my girlfriend...

... tonight I would drive you out to the middle of nowhere. I'd try to act real secretive and you'd get kind of concerned. You'd ask again what I was up to but I'll probably answer the same thing I said the last two times you asked. "It'll be worth it."

You'll wonder what it's like having to jump out of a car at 55 mph, and I'll notice this and accellerate to 65. Try to tuck and roll now.

Eventually you'll start to get really weirded out and demand to go home. That's when I'll pull over, turn off the car and get out, open the trunk, and grab a towel. I'll place the towel futher on the side of the road, and ask that you grab the pillows. You'll comply because, after all, I said it'll be worth it.

And then you would watch as I lay down on the towel and ask you to join me. You do so and look at the same sky I am looking at.

It's the most beautiful sky you've seen in a while. Clear, cool night, all the stars are especially bright. I sit up and point towards the pencil thin crescent moon and say "See that little dot nearby? That's Mercury."

And we will lay there. Silent, motionless, only the wooshing sounds of rushing cars.

It'll be worth it.

 

[Yonphi]

Strongly Typed

If you're a good student, you'll know how I feel about "types". When someone says that someone else isn't their "type", they are just reverting to the only socially-acceptable disqualifier for another person. You can't say you don't like them, you have to say they aren't your "type."

In a way, it's also diverting attention. "It's not my fault I don't like you, you're just not my type." Well, how about this novel idea: it's nobody's fault. That's right, not everything has to be somebody's fault. That also means you shouldn't make it someone's fault when it isn't.

Lesson time.

I'm going to be bold and draw a big black line. On both sides, there are computer languages. On one side, there are those that are "Strongly Typed", and on the other there are those that aren't. What makes a language strongly typed? Easy.

Data could be in any number of forms. For simplicity, I'll just pick two. Numbers or letters. In Strongly Typed languages, if you make a spot in memory so that you can store some data, you have to make it in a particular shape. You can only stick number-shaped data into a number-shaped hole in memory. Likewise for letters.

This is an abstraction. The computer doesn't give two hoots if a particular cell in memory has a number in it or a letter. As far as it's concerned it's just a collection of zeroes and ones. In low level languages, therefore, there are no types of data. It's all the same, it's up to you, the poor sap who's stuck working in machine code, to keep track of what data and how it should be interpreted. I have lots of respect for those who do their own assembly code, and miss having the free time to do it myself. Now that's micromanaging.

Higher level languages, through abstraction, use typing to keep track of how to interpret actions on data. If you add two memory cells containing numbers 4 and 6 you expect to get back 10. If you add two memory cells containing letters "h" and "i" you expect to get back "hi", not 15. In a strongly typed language, it behaves this way always, and if you try to play with it, it will refuse. In a weakly typed language, if you set a variable to a letter and it used to be a number, it'll relax and let it happen. Whereas a strongly typed language will have a cow and tell you that it thinks you're probably making a mistake. In the weakly typed language it will change the type of the variable, but you, as a programmer, don't need to worry your pretty little head about it.

Meanwhile, in the burly ol' strongly typed language, if you want to stick a letter where a number used to be, you have to be clever. You might try converting that letter into a number to put it there, or you can superclass the types and... wait, I'm getting too far into it and away from what I'm really trying to do here.

The thing is sometimes unexpected things happen when you try to convert things between types. There is a type for whole numbers and one for fractional numbers. If you stick a fractional one in a whole number, you'll usually get the whole part of the fraction and the remainder will be lost. Or sometimes it's rounded. Most of the time you just don't know.

THE POINT is that data in one type needs to be converted to another type with care. Sometimes you have to do it explicitly with directives, other times you let the computer try to figure out which is best.

MOMENT OF ZEN: I've discussed my potential nature and how it is mismatched with what I want to be a part of. It's hard to be naturally sociable, and difficult to be not so shy. I'm rolling the dice and casting myself into another form and hoping for the best. I don't believe that the term "cast" for converting types and "cast" as a verb for throwing dice are a coincidence.

I prefer Strongly Typed langauges. I'm a big boy, I can keep track of my types, thank you.

In handling coversions in Strongly Typed languages, the way to do it with the most control is to make a conversion function. Write a piece of code that will read and analyze the number and spit out a letter. If you give me number 5, maybe this piece of code will spit out "e". Maybe it should do something different: it's up to the application at hand. I like that control. But in order to write such code, you need to know what kind of data it's going to analyze.

I believe at this point in time I need to learn what my type is. Not in what I will like in another person, but what I am. Once I know what I am, maybe I'll be able to use that knowledge and play my strong points, if any. More importantly, I'll know what functions are ready to accept me. (Ooh, that was dirty, wasn't it?) And hopefully, how I come out of it will be closer to my potential.

In many modern languages, a class (ah, the short of it is that "class" is another way of saying "type". The long of it is that this description doesn't scratch the surface, so take of it what you will) usually has a method called "GetType" or "IsA" or "HasA". These functions help determine, while the program is running, what an object's type is.

Gee, what's my last line going to be like?

 

[Yonphi]

[Basket]Case Study

After that trip to LA a few months ago, and the daily helping of white rice three times a day, with caffeine and alcohol and all that stuff that I consumed on my trip, I hadn't been eating well. Recently I've gotten back into eating properly. And by "properly" I mean "less crapily." And thing I hadn't done consistantly like before is DDR. Last time I went back up I did horrible and disheartened. I forget that it's an athletic gesture (the only one I was ever halfway good at) as much as it is a rythmic gesture: and while timing and hand-eye coordination I've got down pat, the execution of what needs to be done needs to actually physically happen and needs to be consistantly honed.
I havn't been real eager to go back to Local Arcade. There's definitely a falling out going on and it's been accellerating. Partly due to my realization of my tendancy to repeat history. (Notice it isn't necessarily the GOOD history that gets repeated, huh?) Even more evident as word trickles down that Shorty is single again and I actually considered, for a brief moment, steps that would need to be taken.

Pulled my hand out of that hat like it set itself on fire. Not so much because it was some unholy thought. I did so because I know she's not interested and I'm doing exactly what I thought I would try. To sell myself on it. That's a lose-lose situation.

And with that I've been staying away. But I do want to walk a line I used to tread on. I can do without the whole vicious cycle part of it, but I want to once again surprise myself and kick some ass at the sadistic foot-play presented before me.

Yesterday I went and, wouldn't you know it, ran into almost everyone. Beastlord made quite an impression, and since NPP had been spreading rumors of my pet there's been a bit of a surge of artistic facial hair expression, not quite as far gone as I am but I can't help but feel... honored? It'll pass I'm sure. I forget I'm pretty much the village elder there.

But there was someone new there. No, not completely new, she looked vaugely familiar. I don't know from where, and it isn't a feeling a deja vu or anything. She just looked like I knew her. It was the weirdest sensation because I knew I had never met her or seen anyone even remotely resembling her.

This sensation told me to talk to her. Just like that. Suck it up and talk. And she's a total weirdo. This isn't a case of someone who is a little odd that once I listen to and pay attention to starts to sound more grounded than I expected. No no no, this is a partial basketcase if I ever met one.

Mmmm... I think I like her. And she talked back to me, too. NPP, bless his soul, didn't interrupt us. She's actually older than me, too. (That's good luck, isn't it?) So much for being villiage elder. Checklist, anyone?
[X] - Not attached
[X] - Of Age
[_] - Met someplace other than Local Arcade.

Well, 2/3 may seem pretty bad, but compared to Vogue, that's DOUBLE the prior score.

So what did conversation entail? Little things, here and there. It's hard to really get into it. Not because I don't remember, but because it has to be completely continuous in order to not be a complete random splattering of words. But a thing of note includes that she seemed to deliberately speak of her exboyfriend, which speaks to me that she wished to make it known.

I was going to ask for her number, and I made the motions for it and realized I didn't have a pen. I thought I'd be a clever boy and reached for my cell phone and got ready to input a number to call so we can add each other to our respective lists in some kind of techno-nerd's wet dream of trading data without a whole lot of effort when she pouted and said she didn't have a cell. But I did manage to get an email address. And she's going to the same anime convention I'm going to in a month.

I have a pen on me now, and I am writing numbers down. But these are all in befuddled bewilderment and they are, rather, notes for future reference.

This will be on the test.

 

[Yonphi]

Execution

Jeez, how old am I again? I'm totally crushing on this girl. And it's annoying as all hell.

Annoying because it's my secret. It's not like I'm falling with someone, more like I'm falling at someone. It was more gentle and soft and warm when things develop as a couple, I find. This is more like, ahh... more like accidently saying "remove plank" instead of "retract plank". Which is my favorite Star Trek joke of all time because even in the future and kids taking multivariable calculus at age 7 they still need assistance of a programmer to keep those kinds of flubs from happening. Oh, and it's my favorite because I am also a dork.

Basket, as I'll call her. Yes. I will ask her out soon. I'm really nervous. Historically, this has NEVER turned out well. I don't know what I should ask her to, I don't know a thing about timing, I don't have lines (which doesn't matter since we already had extended speaking moments for three times already)... I am just absolutely clueless.
Most of the Blind-Ambition moments are just that trying to strike up conversation. Coffee invitations came with it, but they didn't go well and the convenience of the bookstore was that it was right there.
This is different because this is someone I started conversation with of whom did not look at me with disdain, or the disbelief that I would have the audacity to speak with her. Happens a higher percentage of time than you may think, actually, and I'm not an unreasonable person. In fact, one could describe Basket as tall, lankey, not curvey at all. But I love her smile and her lips, she's got neat freckles and, dare I say, a cute haircut. And I like playing catch up with her thought process. Even has a really cool name: it's... ah ah ah... not so fast. Anyway, I'm definitely attracted.

The question now, er, rather, the plead, is that I don't screw up. I've been kicking around the idea of just giving up and settling. It's easier on the psyche, not to mention I've got enough uncertainties floating around in my fear box. It's annoying because I like her, if I stayed the course and NOT let myself like someone first I would be in better shape.

I was considering offerring a bet to anyone who would care to bet me. Bet that she says no, because if she says yes, I'll probably feel pretty elated with a weight off my shoulders and I'd send my gambling losses with a smile. But then I realized that betting against myself isn't exactly a good frame of mind to sit in. Plus I doubt gambling winnings would make me feel any better about a failed risk.

I was hoping by the end of this post I would have decided what/where/when, but I havn't. Wish me luck anyway. I'm still taking notes, after all.

 

[Yonphi]

Calm before the Storm

All Quiet on the Western Front. So far.

I'm always quick to point out the benefits to being a video gamer. I truely honestly and wholeheartedly believe the following:

1. They encourage the challenge/response form of problem solving.
If you are given a challenge, you must respond to it. Failure to do so means you will not progress. The game is INTENDED to be played, therefore appropriate response must exist. The game isn't "impossible", although it can sure get close. Games that aren't intended to be played to completion, like Ms. Pac-Man (180K, thank you very much), provide challenge/response as far as the speed of the ghosts and the diminishing (eventually falling to zero) time of power pellet effectiveness.

2. They epitomize control abstraction.
The best thing to happen to gaming is the console game. This gave a standard platform on which games could be written to run on. The manufacturer devises a control scheme (say, coleco's 8-way mushroom stick and numberpad), and the developer must adapt their software to use that scheme. What happens is an abstraction of control. Pushing this button in this game will behave differently than pressing the same button on a different one. Handling, timing, and context all influence the function of pushing a button, or letting it go, or rotating a stick, etc. This is good because is breaks people away from the "single-button single-function" paradigm into one that lets them LEARN controls. Learn the personality traits of the control. What works, and what doesn't. And ways to excel using the same limitations as others. After all, in Star Trek, people don't push buttons, they tap screens. And the buttons can change form and move and all that stuff.

3. Hand eye coordination leads to many good things.
If I can see it, I can avoid it. That's the trick, though. Driving around North Miami leaves me frazzled on a daily basis. And there's been at least 3 times in the last 2 months that have been close call accidents. A UPS truck literally spinning out of control in the rain, a rear-end chain reaction that had me jump forward through a light making a right into the second lane to avoid getting hit from the back or the side, and a huge grapefruit sized rock leaping off the back of a dumptruck careening towards me.
The funny part is that after all this I'll step out of my car and plunk my foot down in a weird position because I didn't see a curb, or I'll bump into a wall trying to look behind me. I'll point to #1, challenge response. A curb isn't really a challenge, and every time I try to fight a wall I lose.

4. Pattern recognition.
If you're going to be good at mathematics, you need to have good pattern recognition. You just are. You can memorize all the integration functions you want, but if you can't recognize S(du/(u-c)) when it exists then you can't make use of them. Puzzle games are good at that. Way back when, something happened to make Play swear to never play video games with me again. I was always better and she never liked playing against me in anything. One day she rented a game for free, Tetris Attack, which was just a Nintendo rebadged SNES game in the likeness of Yoshi and pals but that's not the point. That day she introduced it to me and said she'd been practicing all the day before and was ready to play against me in a puzzle game. I hadn't seen it before then so of course I was a little lumbering for about two rounds. After then, it was all downhill for her. It got to the point where 20 second in one round, where I was holding down the advance button (to make the blocks go as fast as possible) just to put more stuff on the screen to continue my chain of 5 and 8 block matches, and I wiped her out she threw a fit and promised to never play anything with me again.

Not my fault I'm a beast.

Now, it isn't all benefits. One major disadvantage to growing up this way is simple. Delayed results. If you wrong, you usually know it right away. In a racing game, you know you're doing it wrong as you're doing it wrong and get passed by everyone. A platformer you lose a life or fifty trying to get past a particular part.

Nothing else really has that feeling of instant results. If you approach a gas station, you use how much fuel you have left as a hint as to whether or not you should stop there, but you don't really know if it's a good idea to skip it. You find the answer, when you find the next gas station with cheaper gasoline, or if you pull over to the side of the road because you can no longer run on fumes. If you eat junk and hydrogenated oils and stuff you won't instantly feel awful, but over time you will. You don't know if it was such a smart idea to camp out in the middle of spring until after maybe the third day in the hospital for being bitten by a few different very colorful varieties of poisonous bugs.

With that said, I think I'm winning points with Basket. Unfortunately there isn't a number floating above her head to help me out. But I think I'm doing good. She was at Local Arcade today completely not dressed to play, just hanging out, ready to leave. I arrive, she's in a long brightly colored summer dress that is the complete opposite of what I'm used to seeing her in.

Points of interest:
1. I caught her looking in a mirror more than once, teasing her hair and just looking at herself. Could it be for me? Um... egotistical at best. Inconclusive.
2. She confirmed that I am going to the convention. She remembered, and evidently wanted to see me there. Would she want to go with me? Ahhhh.... questionable. I'm spending 5 days in Orlando, and spending that length of time with someone you like is a big deal. Bigger than what is actually going on. Will revisit this point at a later date, but, for now, non-influencial.
3. She told me people told her she looked like a housewife and took offense to it. I told her she didn't look like a housewife and instead looked very pretty. I know, I'm shocked. There was yelling, screaming, threats of a walk-out in the congress of my head over giving a complement with obvious ulterior motives. But it was genuine, so it was permitted. She smiled widely, I think she appreciated it. +1.
4. I asked if she's ever had okonomiyaki, and she replied of course. It was going to be my lead in for asking her out. The way she said "of course" kind of tapped on me a little bit, where as now the congress was unanimously shouting "abort! abort!" I was kind of hoping she'd get the hint that way and save me another time of building up the nerve and thinking of a good, relevant way to ask her out. Feh. -1.

And with Ms. Pac-Man I get 180,000 points. One pellet at a time. But I don't want to be too slow, lest Basket gets snatched up.

 

[Yonphi]

Punch my Gut

So all this mamba-jamba about gut feeling this and I've-seen-so-and-so-before somehow-somewhere parallel-dimension-projection-or-some-shit-like that, left me in a weird position.

Somehow the train wreck just keeps getting... ahm... more wrecked. Imagine a derailment and more trains careening towards the accident site, each one adding to it and causing a snowballing of twisted metal.

I feel really bad. Not sick bad, not even unhappy about anything exceptionally different from the norm, I just feel badly for what I did.

NO there were no married women involved. Geez. I'm gonna make a t-shirt that says "Judge me, Jump to conclusions, Justify your existance by exercising your critical mind." And nobody would wear it. But that wouldn't really matter.

Well, I asked out Basket. Things were going great, still talking. She showed me her sketches, and I gave her my card. No, not really a business card, I'd just been toying with the idea of how a personal business card would look like and doing some layouts just to take a look. And when we nearly parted, I turned around, and played it as suave as I could muster. "Oh, yeah, I wanted to ask you..."

What'd she say? Well I'm HERE tonight, aren't I?

Sorry, didn't mean to snap.

The problem isn't so much that I was turned down, it was the transparent manner in which she did so. Yesterday, we had just finished discussing how we had nothing to do today, this night. So I asked for her company to get something to munch on. She said no, that she had things she had to do. Which ordinarily is fine, understandable, I suppose.

But I don't think it was genuine. Because the smile she had on her face around me the whole time instantly died. A complete 180 in her attitude. As if I had just told her I fatally stab children attempting to cross a bridge I control if they fail to answer my 3 riddles in rhyme that happen to be in Middle English.

One thing that can be said about the completely nerve-wracking undertaking that is asking out a girl is "the worst she can say is no." Which is true. Which also means I fall into the worst-case-scenario all the time. That's just no good for a guy's psyche.

Thing is, it's like I did something WRONG, the way she flipped the switch. Like I caused her pain or something. It seems weird, I know. But I feel badly for putting her in a bad mood, I guess. She's supposed to feel flattered, not disgusted with the mental image of herself with me.

I'm insanely disappointed, too. I was ready to post here and say "wow, I guess you really CAN trust your inner instincts". Instead I just want to punch my gut and squeeze out those gut feelings.

The main problem here is that I'm using trying to be normal. I need to embrace my abnormality and tragic flaws. So tonight I'm going to shift into reverse before coming to a complete stop.

I'm posting an ad... BUT not how you think. I'm going to masquerade as a woman. No, nothing too deep in that. Hear me out for a minute:

The theory is this: evidently I have no game. Even when I feel I'm hitting it off, I'm not. Which is kind of like lacking mojo, I suppose, except they sell the stuff by the bottleful out here. Seriously. So I need to learn.

I'm a good guy, right? Please, I have to be right on that one. But I'll look at myself as a good product with poor marketing just to completely not discount my value, although that's not too far off. So I need to fire my advertising agent and go with another firm.

The control-freak part of me feels that if you want something done right, you need to reverse engineer what is successful and make it mine. So that explains my current venture.

So here's the algorithm. Masquerade as a girl seeking someone special. Hey, if the police can pretend to be children to catch pedophiles, I think I can do it. In fact, this shouldn't take too much work at all. Just mish-mash existing ones. Then let the responses come in.

The real trick, I feel, is separating the bad responses from the good ones. I will, for the time being, assume that something I am likely to say is a bad response, and anything else is a good one. It's a very wide spectrum, so I'm hoping I can distinguish the difference and be a little more precise.

After, ah, maybe a week of that I'll respond to all of them and confess that I'd been conducting an experiment and appologize for wasting their time. Because I don't necessarily feel the end justifies the means.

But this has GOT TO STOP. Words cannot sufficiently describe how hopeless things seem from my perspective. I'm tired of living in this world where I'm relegated to the sidelines.

 

[Yonphi]

A.d.d.

I came back to remove a post. Somehow, instead of doing what I set out to do, I wound up here wishing I would have thought of it first.

They inteveriewed this guy a few weeks ago who invented a few years ago that invented an armor-piercing 50 calibur rifle with a lethal range of like a mile and a half. His quote? "Well, I was young and stupid."

It's easy to be clever when it comes to the wrong thing to do. It's easy to let frustration and anger influence your actions. Even the mind will use logic to justify things.

Just frustration. I'm not as complicated as I have the arrogance to think I am.

I was listening to talk radio today (much like every day) and heard a joke. It wasn't new to me, heard it before as a child.

A guy's sitting on his porch. The police come in a car and tell him a flash flood is coming and he needs to evacuate. He refuses, and says, "Nah, God will save me." A few hours later this guy's sitting on the roof, with water splashing up at his feet. The police come in a boat and tell him he can still escape. "Nah, God will save me." Another couple of hours later the guy is up to his chin in water and standing on the very top of the roof. The police come in a helicopter and tell him to grab on. "Nah, God will save me."
He drowns.
In heaven, the guy asks, "God, why didn't you save me?"
And God replies: "I sent the car, I sent the boat, I sent the helicopter..."

The meaning of "somehow" was my strange habit of going off on web tangent after web tangent to find unique and weird things online. I know a bunch of sites and know of a bunch of sites with lots of stuff. You name it, I've probably seen it. It's slightly embarassing sometimes how off track I get when I try to do something. But, all of a sudden, "somehow" doesn't seem like such an accident. Somehow it seems like I guess I couldn't bring myself to it. Or, perhaps more accurately, somehow I just wasn't into it enough to actually do it.

Which means it did come from me being myself and not some almightly proof-of-concept. I guess that means I'm not a monster after all. Just a half-breed.

Maybe I won't delete that post. Because I've got a new plan I didn't follow through with. This plan B? Why, removing my monitor and taking a picture to make a new desktop image. Sounds like fun, sure, but I don't really want to move anything around.

(Is this a light form of ADD?)

 

[Yonphi]

Misery loves Company

Havn't felt like saying anything recently.

Poo-poo arcades all you want, at this point the only friends I can see and poke and talk about what interests me, like transporting save games from cartridges to computers where they can be modified to get neat things done. I come for the salmon, I stay for the people, as the bastardized saying goes.

The level of honesty I've been able to build up with this set of non-anonyous people is interesting to me, and ripe with hope. You know I've been looking to abandon The Lie, right? Slowly, slowly. There's a lot of don't ask don't tell there, which means either nobody cares about my past (a distinct possibility), or nobody wants to dig and find a reason to not like me.

Shorty is slightly different. Hold onto that.

So I hung out there, even though I was just bitter that weekend.

A little backstory. For the past 18 months stickers have been talking to me. They've been appearing in places I don't expect saying truly relevant things at the time. It started when stopped at a stoplight having a discussion with Nature and she turned to look out the passenger window as my eyes focused in on a sticker on a transformer box. "Tragic", it read. And she turned to me and said "It's tragic." And we were talking about a tragic development in modern day society.

Every so often my eye will glance over someplace where an eye usually doesn't stray, like under steps in a stairwell, or behind a box or what have you. And I've been finding strange signals. Friday when I was feeling extremely ungroovy I took a walk back on my old college campus, in the middle of the night, and decided to lay down on the pavement under a concrete overpass and I saw a sticker right there next to a light: "Hope for Hope." I wonder what supernatural force is trying to talk with me, and what the point is. I'm willing to listen, but I guess this is the only way they can do it. I wonder if this also has something to do with this blue angel I see in my dreams almost all the time now. Maybe I should get that dream interpreted for me.

Saturday I tried to pretend to be upbeat. Basket was flaunting the fact that she was a girl that day, instead of being the normal almost tomboyish (in appearance) person I'd become used to. But I stayed steady. Shorty was there, and she looked even happier than I was pretending to be. She'd broken up with her boyfriend/fiancee a while ago, and while he's stepped up and got himself another girl, she's been single. NPP has insisted to me that she's a codependant. Hold onto that.

After that night, I left earlier than everyone as I had been running out of acting fuel, and NPP was starting to pry. I was upset and I was trying not to be a cat, but resisting the urge to talk openly about how immature my feelings were considering the details behind Basket because, frankly, it just makes me feel like I'm 12 years old. More importantly, it's a step backwards in toughening up for the long road of even more rejection and lonliness that is ahead.

Next day, I turned on my chat because I wanted to see if the interface of Trillian improved any. And Shorty was there and I decided to comment her on how pleased she seemed at life. She admitted she was acting. I admitted I was, too.

You know, it's true what they say. Misery loves company. I wasn't sure what she was miserable about, but because of how I am when I'm sad I didn't ask. She stayed closed to me. And being in that position, I knew what I would want to hear. Even though I shouldn't project.

Although I didn't. We made no attempts to comfort each other, we just wallowed, asking questions towards each other that nobody answered, nor were they supposed to. Because once someone is set on being negative there's no turning it around.

At the end, I told her that she was a nice girl and encouraged her to talk to me anytime she wishes. She did the same (although she didn't call me a nice girl, which was thoughtful of her).

And that's all I can siphon up for tonight. Still not in a great mood. I just want to sleep. Maybe I'll try to ask a few questions of Blue when I see her in my dream.

 

[Yonphi]

Break: noun and verb

There really hasn't been much to discuss. Actually, nothing to really care much about. I personally like resolutions, because it's a time to shrink wrap and stuff it on a shelf. But things rarely work out that way. My work is perpetually unfinished, because... um... I don't know. It's rather inconsistant, to be honest.
Sometimes it's because things are dead and buried, and the only reason why I don't outright ignore the "I'm having so much fun with [Replacement]" messages is because if they stop then there's a bit of vindication I'd miss out on. Sometimes it's because I'm too shy to reach out to someone I know will be nice to me, because it sounds like a cheap way out. Sometimes it's because I need to sweep things under the rug until the time arrives when the rug is rolled up and the mess rediscovered.

Basket cleared a few things up. She's got a bit of a pickle, she's got a minimum-wage job and is living with her exboyfriend because she has nowhere else to go. She thinks he still wants her, and it makes her a little uncomfortable. I estimate that sort of arrangement isn't one that everyone can pull off. It highly depends on the people. In any case, she lets that possibility control her, and she feels guilty being away from home too long, because he's so depressed and he turns so inspired and happy when she's around. To which I internally comment "no comment". So when she makes plans to chill out for a while with him, she feels pained to break them. It wasn't personal.

I don't know what's worse, the situation or my being so insecure that I had to find out what gives.

The possibility of this being a Bullshit Answer(tm) has not been ruled out. But she hasn't been freaked out in any other way, and she seems as friendly and warm as ever. So... I guess you call this unfinished because she really likes someone and knows "for a fact" that they like her, too. Hmm... sounds... ahhh... not like the way things go these days. Are they dating? What the dilly-yo? I don't press. As far as where I fit in, maybe she just likes the notion of a guy fawning over her. Can't rule that out, either.

She DID ask me a lot of questions about Nature, though. All out of nowhere, too. I casually mentioned the Reiki thing and how cool I thought it was and how I was skeptical but am glad I didn't close my mind to it. All of a sudden it was about how we met, how long we went out, what she was like, what was her name, and even what sorts of things she liked in the bedroom. Yikes, glad I've got a Meekstone in my soul. I've never had anyone express that much or that kind of interest in my past before, though. I'm not sure what to make of it. And, for now, that's fine. I'm trying to break the habit of finding hidden things. It's nice when you find it, even nicer when you're right, but if nothing's there then it's a waste of time. Face value: she wanted to know about someone relevant to me.

So I'm going up to anime convention tomorrow. It's a well needed social break, although probably not a well deserved one. Somehow I have a feeling that I won't reach my maximum potential and the idea of only jumping into things I know I'm going to take 1st place in is a very attractive one. Attractive because it always feels good to win. Always.

For some reason I feel compelled to bring a whole lot of extra curricular activities with me. My notebook is equipped with lots of fansubs, some *ahem* hentai flicks, copies of the music videos I'm entering in the competition, and games with two controllers. Blue says it's because I qualities that are good, but hard to see at a distance. So I just need to make getting closer a more attractive option.

Is it, ah, crazy, to talk to people in your lucid dreams, expecting real answers? Blue told me she's wondered why it took me so long to just ask who she was. She didn't answer completely. I have to say the logic sounds familiar, yet distant. Somehow when I ask a question, four questions come out of my mouth and kind of split up. For lack of a better word, it's just queer. Not gay queer, but Hardy Boys queer. I swear I'm not on any mood altering substances, so... who is it that I'm talking to? I'm concerned something is and has been happening in my life lately that I can't explain, let alone control. I hope wherever the ride takes me it's somewhere nicer than here.

I wonder if my sudden interest in 80's Italo Disco music has anything to do with it.

 

[Yonphi]

Teaser

Umm...

Ahh...

You wouldn't believe who is in my room right now if I told you.

Don't worry, I will, though.

...

The funny part is that it's not quite what you're thinking, either.

 

[Yonphi]

Improbability Education

Being perhaps the first ever instance of intentional suspense here, I'll diffuse it quickly. Basket and I shared a night together. And what makes the suspense intentional is that I failed to mention that should be taken literally.

What can I say? I've got a mean streak.

Running into her at the con was not a surprise. We made it quite known to each other that we were intending to go. She did get glassy eyed when she mentioned that she was going to meet someone up there. The way she said "someone" made me figure that it was noneother than the mystery man himself.

Ran into her, said some hellos, was introduced to some of her friends, snapped a couple of pictures, and parted ways. Later I ran into them looking rather unhappy. I swung by and there was obvious effort to shield me from the bad vibes and I took my leave.

Then, later on still, at the con rave (yeah, you read right. Frankly, I don't know either), I ran into Basket alone. She took up a cause to make sure I procured glow sticks and tried to teach me how to use them. Fundamentally, I'm confused as to whether the intent is to create an swarm of light illusion resembling an electron cloud, or if it's about showing off dexterity in one's wrists and fingers, or if it's about multiplexing differing movements with differing sides of your body. But it isn't quite important. Aside from that, she seemed glad to see me and encouraged me to stick with her, in subtle terms ("lets get something to drink" "lets share a pizza"). Through some smalltalkish type questioning, one of her friends was her best friend and she, 18, had to go back home. Evidently someone is interested in her and has spread awful rumors to her family and they are actively trying to keep her and Basket apart. In order to keep her free for themselves. To which I shrug.

We hung out late into the night. Basket kept talking about her, and I tried to get her mind on other things. It didn't necessarily work. Other Girl was there, too, and kind of opened a gateway to distraction. She expressed malcontent over sexual frustration because the people she wanted to hang out with just wanted to booze and it was boring. I appologized for being me, which I thought was slightly humorous. But she replied that I'm not her type, except while I was making a joke, she seemed rather serious saying it. Mumph. By my count, that line was two or three lines too early if it was for just casual conversation. After she left I commented to Basket that it was a harsh thing to say in that manner. She looked at me, smiled, and said, "I'm promised to someone" and showed me a ring. I smirked back and went back to trying to twiddle multiple pens in my hand in opposite directions simultaneously when she added, only slightly audible, "and she would get mad."

It was really late Saturday when I said I was pretty much done and was ready to turn in for the night. Other Girl wandered back and made some more chit-chat. Basket asked her where she was going to go, and Other Girl was going back to her room. She commented that the party's over because nothing was going on there since she was with her Father. I figured it was because Basket was tired of me. But Other Girl left, and I started to leave and Basket kept me company on the way to my room, which was nice. I asked where she was staying because it's customary for the him to walk her home. She said that she wasn't sure. Aha, it would seem that something happened. I was still piecing it together when I got there and she commented on what a cold night it was going to be. After a few suspicions, I just came out and asked if she planned to not sleep in a bed that night. She affirmed it.

I told her that was crazy and she could stay with me. She declined, and I explained that I cannot have a good night's sleep myself if I knew a friend who obviously needed help didn't have any. She still declined and I offerred at least the blanket from the bed. Downright insisted. I told her if she was that concerned with me being inappropriate then the only compromise that can be reached is her taking cloth since I could always raise the heat.

She came inside.

I asked for some help to fold up the blanket and wondered how she was going to take it with her. I offerred my bag to take it to her car and gave a warning about the security cart that seems to circle around every half hour or so. I wondered out loud how she would get it back since if it was missing by the time I left that would be bad, so I asked if she wanted to meet at a particular time to return it or if she wanted to take an extra key with her to drop it off whenever.

I'm not sure what exactly in what I said made her take her coat off. I'm not sure what made her close her eyes and say "well, ok, I'll stay." But she did.

And, gotta say, the contrast really makes it all shine. When I arrived Thursday I was reminded of like during college. Things kind of cramped, and everything was, well, blank. I had no one to ask "well, what do you feel like eating tonight?" I wanted to be entertained and I was equipped with my wireless network cracking tools only to find out I wouldn't need it and I felt even more bored.

Compare and contrast to pillow talk. We didn't do anything, though. Part of the bedtime talk? Her friend that was there? First girl she's ever kissed. She wasn't joking earlier that night. And that someone she "knew for a fact liked her" that she liked too? Yup, one in the same.

I didn't know she was bi. I didn't ask, granted, but I love parallels. Remember, folks, a line intersecting two points extends on FOREVER and intersects an infinite number of points. So it's well within my interest to determine what points are likely to intersect. IN OTHER WORDS: One doesn't choose a type, the type chooses them, and I am changing some of my opinions on the whole "type" structure.

(Either way, Other Girl didn't have to be rude about it, though.)

I told Basket I was happy for her. And she asked me something that won her several billion points in my opinion of her. This question provides some insight as to the type of person she is, and part of the insight as to why I like her.

"Do you mean that, or are you just saying it?"

I called it like I saw it, though. I explained that I truely am happy, because it's hard enough to find someone you click with. I can't imagine how bisexual and homosexual people are able to meet considering the societal stigma around it. The odds are stacked enough as it is without that extra complicating factor. Add to this the fact that one can defy the norms and like the other AND the other can reciprocate is a mini modern day miracle.

Although, my opinions are a little stacked. I put myself in the situation where I can bear my soul and hope and pray that they like me too. And I just see it as my own personal miracle.

We stayed awake, by my calculation, for another hour before we slept. I told each other our stories, and I bore everything ... except the existance of this journal, which brings up a conundrum in my head that now I'm not really able to ever come completely clean. Oops, I could not have forseen that. We spoke the rest of the time about all sorts of deep things.

I was woken up about 7 hours alter by the gaze from Basket watching me sleep.

Next morning we showered (spearately, obviously, giving me a quick computer opportunity), shared breakfast, hung out a little, and I saw her off.

I may not have gotten laid, but I think I did achieve my potential. There's something powerful and trusting about it all. And I'm not just saying that. I'm not "just saying that" anywhere.

 

[Yonphi]

Philosopher

[I have a] tendancy to repeat history. (Notice it isn't necessarily the GOOD history that gets repeated, huh?) Even more evident as word trickles down that Shorty is single again and I actually considered, for a brief moment, steps that would need to be taken.

Pulled my hand out of that hat like it set itself on fire. Not so much because it was some unholy thought. I did so because I know she's not interested and I'm doing exactly what I thought I would try. To sell myself on it. That's a lose-lose situation.

Ah, did I say that? Well, umm... nevermind.

One of the interesting things about lonliness is that it makes me more willing to sacrifice in order to do it.

I still have a few more days to select a class for the summer semester, if I am going to take one after all. It's funny how I work, though. My eyes instantly gravitate to the technology side of the paper. Somehow, even without someone around me to smack it away from my hands, I managed to move on to the artsy stuff. Schedule sucks, not much available on the weekends or outside my work schedule.

But I can't NOT take one. I currently am working off-site at a location literally 3.5 minutes away from the local community college. This wouldn't align more perfectly if I planned it.

That's not really a sacrifice, though.

After my adventure with Basket, I didn't have anyone to bounce my thoughts with. Eventually I just hopped online and Shorty was there. As silent as ever. I made a note, back when we were going to live together, when her birthday is so I could plan a nice little roomy-birthday for her. And while that idea fell through, the note remained. I decided to pop in on her and talk.

All of a sudden she was REAL glad to hear from me. Very open. I told her about my trip to the convention, and how it was kind of lonely for the first few days, and how I should have asked someone to go with me. She told me I should have asked her.

Hm.

I really dig the theory of parallel dimensions. I don't believe they are "parallel" but that it's a collection of trees. A timestream moves on and every attribute possible that can be randomized by any amount determines what path YOUR timestream travels. Imagine flipping a coin. In one universe, it comes out heads. In another, it comes out tails. When the time comes for the determination to be made, the timestream seamlessly flows into one of those buckets for your current iteration. If you see it come out tails, that's cool. There exists at least one universe where it comes out heads, and it still exists. * Thing is, that's a big large discernable object. There's a universe in which it flips 7 times, another in which it flips 9 times, etc etc. Those depend on the muscles that flipped it, yes, but there are subtle variations in your movements because the human body is imperfect.

Lets not let it rest with a stupid coin flip. I believe in free will, and that although any person will tend to do what is best for them in any given situation, there is still some randomness to it. It takes some random actions to make humans human. Otherwise we're machines. And although I love machines, I can't love a machine, so that's rather convenient for me. And in there, everything changes. Even you breathing outdoors heavily because you're running, each footstep, each slightly different breath adding to or against overwhelming wind impacts it. The number 2 plus an infinitely small non-zero number is NOT 2, no matter how much you'd like to pretend it was. Take it all together, and now everything... EVERYTHING... has a distinct range of possibilities. Now every raindrop, every flame flicker, every thunderbolt, every shiver, every heartbeat... is subject to the tree of possibilities.

* This theory is also completely 100% compatible with my notions of time travel. "If you could do it over," the typical question goes, "would you?" It's a weak premise, if you ask me. Assuming you do it all the same, what's to say everything you don't have immediate control over would be the same? I don't believe that interacting with yourself in the past is a bad thing. I believe going back in time would be cool and all, but going forward back to where you came from is next to impossible due to the "pachinko" nature of time. And as such, killing your own ancestors will only affect that timestream. In fact, in my theory, you could go back in time, kill your grandfather, go back a day earlier, and possibly not even run into yourself to stop from killing.

Cool, huh? You don't have to take it as your own. Just don't take it and make a sci-fi book out of it without giving me some credit. Jerk. And if it's already been done, please don't tell me and ruin my good time. I'm rather proud of having thought of this on my own. Sure, great minds think alike, but fools seldom differ.

So, if Shorty was there with me and, as my guest, if I paid her more care than Basket, who knows what would have happened. Maybe I would have had a rotten time. Maybe I would have had a blast. *shrug*

We kept talking throughout the week. We thought we knew each other, but I got a nutty idea to play 20 questions. But, instead, no limit. Then it evolved slightly differently. Instead of asking questions about an unknown noun, there were unknown questions about a known noun. The topics eventually became ourselves, and the questions sort of turned into what a date would be if you had to boil it down to a bunch of multiple-choice questions.

And, evidently, we don't really know each other. That's GOOD, though, that means that the questions are good because they bring up value judgements that wouldn't normally come up in everyday life. "Toilet paper roll: overhand or underhand?"

The questions then started getting personal. And by personal I mean personal. They just kind of drift that way. "Lights on or off?" "Whips or ropes?" "Shaved or unshaved?" "Swallow or not?" Back and forth. I have to say I'm impressed by both the stuff she shot out at me and the unblinking manner in which she answered my filthiest of questions.

A whole lot of those smily icons, too. A lot of those smiles and toothy-grins and winks and stuff. It kind of turns me off to chat, but it seems like it's needed sometimes. I think in my whole journal here I've used one of those post icons once, maybe twice, in 340 posts. It's definitely an inner conflict.

So, I asked her what she was doing for her birthday. She said nothing. She's turning "completely legal" and will now be legally permitted to drink and own handguns and run for some local offices. I can't help her with running for office, nor with firepower, but I said I wanted to be around when she clicks over and buys a bottle of whatever.

She's game for this.

Then the plan started evolving. Are we just going to meet up at quarter to midnight? Nah. Let's hang out. Let's play some games. Let's go out to eat. Let's watch some movies. Let's drink. "Show me your most secret place in the whole city."

And, well, it's an unofficial date. I didn't use that word at all, and neither did she. But it's absolutely implied. "I'm going to look really hot, so you dress up too."

Hot damn I'm excited. Yeah yeah, I know. Lose-lose. That's on the premise that she's not into me. But, look, even if she's NOT, it still doesn't matter. I've got an un-date. And, maybe, maybe she'll see something that she didn't before.

While sleeping with Basket, I said I felt that even though we didn't know each other for very long, I could feel that we are going to become really good close friends and that pleases me. She said that it pleases her too, and she does agree that we're going to that place. That suggests I'm a good guy, right? She likes me even though she doesn't LIKE me, right? Or rather, she likes me in spite of her love?

So, on Shorty, if it doesn't happen like this, how DOES it happen? I've got a Good Feeling (tm).

She seems to not dislike me at least. I wonder if perhaps I was so nervous about avoiding being the creepy roommate that I pushed all hypothetical possibilities out of my head? And, yes it does help that I'm a probably a few chicken nuggets away from being really into her. (To be honest, the notion that she may like me is probably then equivalent to a pack of 20.) I just called her a few minutes ago to confirm. Why did I just get hard? Because something's up. There's something in the air. Something in the water. I'd make a comment about some sort of dowsing rod, but that's just crude.

Maybe it won't be lose-lose. Or maybe I'm just falling for another trap. Maybe she'll eat me alive.

...

Here's hopin'.