On Dickens and Dominos

It was the best of times and the worst of times, and now I'm somewhere in the middle, back where I was before. There's always that sliver of hope, which I like to leave myself room for, but my enthusiasm is guarded.

I don't know if I've ever not taken "No" for an answer before. I don't know where the lines are between being romantic and being annoying. Between being persistent and being a stalker. Being in love and being obsessed.

Now, of course, let me not get ahead of myself. I haven't done a damn thing. I've spent one day with her and exchanged a dozen text messages. Fretting to this degree must surely be insane. That's another part of it. I could write a substantial amount about how I'm feeling right now, about why I want desperately for someone's mind to change. But we're on entirely different worlds.

I'm struggling to keep it out of my mind. I'm procrastinating on work right now to write this. I force myself not to contact again, because, on the other side... it's nothing. It was a good day. It's a missed meet with a potential friend. It's some guy who really wants to reschedule. To me, it's a series of restless nights; to her, it's a series of 140 characters.

I'm waiting now. Waiting and waiting. The longer it goes, the more vast the differences in perception become. And I just want to ask a few questions, really. Well, to start.

I've got a playlist on my iPod called "Me". It's a bit under 3 hours long. I'm pretty proud of how it captures various aspects of my life and weaves it together with some sense of cohesion. Well, now, there's a new addition to that list: "Layla".

It goes right in-between "Dreams I'll Never See" and "Won't Get Fooled Again". For now.

--- 2 seconds later ---

Response was enthusiastic. At least I'm not a perceived psychopath. I forgot to mention that being friends might be okay, too. We'll see.

On Cardiac Organs as Cufflinks

This is going to be cryptic and a bitch to read for anyone else who doesn't know what's going on. And that's everyone but me.

These past two days have been the most emotionally turbulent that I can possibly remember. What's worse is that I'm jumping to so, so many conclusions. "Cautiously optimistic" just gets thrown out the window. What's the worst is that I know it's me alone doing it to myself.

I'm sitting in class getting goosebumps and chills, flushes and rushes over and over again. I am distracted for large portions of lectures contemplating hypothetical scenarios. I am seething with rage at every second I am held over at this meeting, at every inane question I am needlessly tied down to hear, because I have something to do. I have something to do that is so magnanimous in my mind, but so trivial in reality.

Even the rain won't stop me. I mentally turn it into a positive. I hope for a predicament. I hope my umbrella comes in handy. I hope to make poetic and impressive observations of this downpour and its effects on the human psyche and condition.

I postpone needed work and rush out the door. A glance is all it took to take me from the highest point to the lowest at a rate inversely comparable to commercial car acceleration statistics. "Anticlimactic" doesn't even come close. I read so deeply, so closely that I make assumptions no sane person would.

I've never done this before. This next message will make or break me. She doesn't know the power she wields, and I don't know why I gave it to her.

--- 2 hours later ---

Fuck

On Stereotypes

I had a Stuff White People Like calendar last year, and I saved some of my favorites (most of them are from the second half of the year). Here I'll put them down as I toss them in the trash. Is it obvious that I'm trying to clean up around here?

Platonic Friendships

High School English Teachers

Self-Deprecating Humor

Trying Too Hard

Nintendo Wii

Avoiding Confrontation

The Office

Not Vaccinating Children

Pulp Fiction

Demetri Martin

Vespa Scooters

Target

Depression

Adult Swim

Trivia

On College Rivalry

I've been sitting on this one for a long time, and I want to throw the letter away, so here goes!

I've gotten mail a few times advertising trips to the South Pacific for upcoming UGA students or current ones. I am not a UGA student. I don't care. ...But there is a funny quote in the note that I've always liked:

"I have learned more here than in the rest of my time at UGA."

And that's it.

Blagging about this Webzone

I just wanted to make that title. It's funny, just like this nearly 2-hour review of the last Star Wars prequel.

http://www.redlettermedia.com/sith.html

...And now after watching it, I am very happy. It was worth every second, and for way, way more than just seeing someone bash Revenge of the Sith. What I love about Plinkett's criticism is when he compares it something good. It helps you appreciate what's so wonderful about films you enjoy. It helps you point out, quantify, or just feel those small parts of moviemaking that often go unnoticed.

Of course, "unnoticed" doesn't mean the effect isn't felt. You still understand Darth Vader because of the characterization around him. You connect with Luke because of how the story is laid out. But after these extremely long and detailed looks at the prequels, you see when it's done and, especially, when it's not. You see how it's done and how it's not. What went wrong, and what went right.

And that's why I'll be watching whatever he puts out in the future. Absolutely.

Kinda want some pizza rolls...