Regular Ralph

It's 4:26am. I sure do wish I was asleep. I don't want to ever go through what I'm going through now again. Never.

It all started earlier today, around 4:30pm. One of my buddies is a Pittsburgh Steeler fan, and we went to a bar in Pioneer Square to watch their playoff game against Jacksonville. I'd had a moderate amount of food to eat on Saturday, although I knew I'd need to grab dinner at some point on Saturday night.

During halftime of the Steeler game, I walked outside the bar, declined a street shoe shine, and bought a hot dog from a street vendor. It cost $4.00. I gave the man $5.00 and stood on the sidewalk and ate my dog. While I knew that wouldn't be good for dinner, I figured it could at least tide me over.

The Steeler game ended around 8:30 or so, and we decided to hang out. Though I had been drinking bourbon and cokes pretty regularly for a while now, I really didn't feel that intoxicated. In fact, I felt pretty sober. It was about this time that my stomach started hurting, at little and first and then building and building. By 10:00, I leaning on my elbows on the bar because I couldn't stand up straight.

I closed my tab hoping that the others would follow. My friend asked me if I wanted to go home or somewhere else, and I said I didn't care, although I was crossing my fingers everyone else would want to call it a night.

It's about 10:30 now. I was watching a female friends purse and pea-coat when my stomach started turning over big time. I knew what was coming. I grabbed her belongings and made a bee-line for the door. Once outside, I was able to squat down behind a metal queuing device, somewhat obstructed from view. I thought maybe if I'd just sit down (I'd been standing on my feet for six hours now) that'd I'd be ok. Before I could find out, I began to vomit. Two things struck me immeditaely. Although there were plenty of people around, nobody seemed to see me, one, and two, I really was pretty sober. My mind was fluid and there was no confusion about what was going on. I stood up and left the scene of that misdeed, declined to give a panhandler any change (I really don't like Pioneer Square anymore) and vomited on a tree on the other side of the building, hidden from view.

I didn't know if the bouncers saw either time, but I wasn't trying to go back inside the bar either. I send my friend two text messages that said "Come outside man".... A couple of minutes later the girl whose purse and pea-coat I was holding appeared and I told her what happened. She ribbed me a little bit, but I assured her that it wasn't an alcohol thing, but that something just hit me.

A few minutes later, everyone else emerged from the bar and decided to hit a different locale. I'm not normally one to part ways like this, but I had to make an executive call to come back to my place by myself. I'm glad I did too.

Once back in my apartment I made an ice water and stretched out on the couch. I felt it was safer than my bed. I said my prayers, and immediatly upon finishing, found myself racing to the bathroom the vomit again. Only this time, I wasn't a little. I think that I was calling Ralph for a minute or so. I had my hand on the toliet flush for what seemed like a long time, but couldn't even find a break in throwing up to flush. I soaked my hand towel in cold water and wrapped it around my neck. I figured if I could cool my body temp down, maybe I wouldn't throw up. Big "maybe"....

I'm on my knees in my bathroom, praying to God to "please, PLEASE let this be over."

I walked back out to the couch and lay down again. Around 1:00, I woke up with my stomach churning. I didn't even make it to the toliet this time, instead having to use the sink. Again, all I could do was pray to PLEASE let this end..... these painful heaves of vomit with a wet towel wrapped around my neck.

Stomach problems always get me down. I used to have them a lot as a kid, but thankfully not so much now. Anyway, when I do have a stomach issue, I find that it's impossible to visualize any other phase of my life without severe stomach ache. I guess that this exacerbates the problem somewhat, and generally makes me depressed, believing that I can no longer function in any arena of my life without having to throw up, vomit, sweat, and snot all pouring out of different parts of my face while I pray about how bad I'm hurting and how I just wish it was over.

I always know things are bad when the most I can muster is "Please help me God, please help me." I've found myself praying that walking through the airport in Atlanta after having said good bye to my family for another several months. Now, tonight, I can't even think about that without imagining that I was also hurt to point of needing to vomit in the airport or on the plane, and frankly I wonder how that's never happened before.

Back on the sofa around 1:15, I began making a check list of everything that I'd eaten on Saturday. By now, even though I know it was very cheap, bad bourbon at the bar, I couldn't blame that. I'm way too sober, and I never even really tied on a real strong buzz. The bourbon didn't help, I'm sure, but I doubt that it's the culprit.

Here's what I had on Saturday"

McDonalds large black coffee (8:50am)*
Seafood salad (10:30am)*
Two pieces of smoked salmon (12:45pm)*
A bowl of Special K Red Berry Cereal (3:00pm)*
A few handfuls of peanuts (various)*
A street vendor hot dog (6:45pm)
A single barbaque potato chip off someone else's plate that we were eating off of (9:00pm)*

* -- Things that I've consumed plenty of times before.

At this point, I find it very likely that the street vendor dog was the culprit. It tasted ok, I watched the guy cook it. Everyting else that I ate/ drank today were things that I'd consumed any number of times in the past without getting sick. I eat seafood salad several times a week. Same for smoked salmon. I'll eat that red berry cereal EVERY DAY unless I'm just out of it. The milk I used in it Saturday was in date.

I was able to drift off for a few minutes on the couch again. I woke up at 2:00 to vomit again. My hips and back are starting to get sore from sleeping on the sofa. Normally that's not an issue. But I'm trying so hard not to move that I'm forcing myself to stay in one position for 45 minutes or more. I can only sleep more than a few minutes at a time.

Around 3:00, I decided to sit up and have an ice water. This was a delacate move, because I didn't want to do anything too quick or sudden, lest my stomach become upset again. I very slowly sat up and put my feet on the floor. I stood up and made another ice water and drank it. I tried to drink it slowly, but as you can imagine, I'm pretty dehydrated by this point, so I had to drink it moderately fast. 15 minutes later, more throwing up.

I awoke again around 4:00 wondering if this was all over. My plan was to make a bowel movement (as my stomach was still very unsettled) and then migrate to bed if there were no problems in the rest room. Immediatly after I finished with the #2 and washed my hands, I had to call Ralph again. By now, there's just not much left. I debated for a minute about calling an ambulance and going to the hospital, although the more rational side of me believes that this is just a "thing" that will run its course. I tell ya though, if I'm still throwing up at 8:00am, I'm not going to have a choice. If nothing else, I'll have to take an IV to rehydrate.

But let's hope it won't come to that. I'm working on another ice water as we speak and I figure that tomorrow will be spent pouring massive amouts of water and gatorade down my throat. I say "tomorrow".... it's really today, it'll be getting light in a few hours.

It looks like I'll have to cancel my trip to Port Townsend on Sunday. Washington State Ferries was doing a special run from Seattle to Port Townsend on a small, passenger only boat. The fare is $6.70 round trip and the ride is an hour and a half each way. Sunday is to be the last day. That would've given me a chance to see some things that I'd never seen before, but oh well.... unless something major happens, I'm going to hav a hard time leaving the home base on Sunday.

I really feel like garbage. My whole body hurts. My back, my stomach, my feet, my hips. It's all stiff and sore. Sure do wish I could find some sleep, but I can't even get comfortable enough to sustain it. Maybe the vomiting is over now too, let's cross our fingers. I don't think that a stomach deal has ever hit me as hard as one did tonight.

They say that one bad apple spoils the bunch. And not that street vendor hot dogs are staple of my daily diet anyway, but I have a hard time believing that I'll ever buy another street dog as long as I live.

Do I look like an idiot?

I've gotten this email from "Bank of America" numerous times before. Of course, it's not actually from Bank of America, but rather, most likely, from some kid in Nigeria trying to steal my account information so he can steal what money I have in the account (as well as other assets I'm sure).

This is how the email reads:

"Your Online Banking is Blocked

Because of unusual number of invalid login attempts on you account, we had to believe that, their might be some security problem on you account. So we have decided to put an extra verification process to ensure your identity and your account security. Please click on sign in to Online Banking to continue to the verification process and ensure your account security. It is all about your security. Thank you, and visit the customer service section."

Seriously, how stupid do you think I am? I've probably gotten this email ten times over the past year. It's always exactly the same. It's been my experience that a large number of Bank of America tellers are less than perfect in their ability to communicate the English language (to put it nicely), but I have to doubt that an official notice from Bank of America would confuse "their" and "there".

And as if it wasn't obviously a scam just from a cursory glance, when you drag your mouse over the "sign in to Online Banking" link, you realize that it points you to a page called "dardasha.net"... Really, how can anyone fall for this?

Go Dawgs

It was around 3:30am at a casino center bar in Las Vegas in December 2005. I started chatting with this brunette who looked to a couple years older than me. She recognized my accent and asked me where I was from. When I told her that I was from Athens GA, her eyes lit up. She told me that she went to school at UGA as well, and even went to business school there, which I was doing at the time. She told me that she was working in Philadelphia these days. We chatted about Athens and the Terry College and at one point I remarked on how she didn't have a southern accent. To that, she responded "If you ever want to get anywhere, you have to drop that. People won't take you seriously."

I probably get asked a minimum of five times a week where I'm from. Most people guess Texas, although my experiences in that state are limited to sitting on an airplane for half an hour at DFW. It seems like everyone asks. They know I'm not from the northwest. I don't know if they take me any more or less seriously when they hear me, I never really think about it. And it doesn't really bother me.

I appreciated what that woman in Las Vegas told me, and looking back, it seems somewhat poignant now, even though it just felt like a late night thing at the time. This is who I am.

I am very proud of where I came from. I am very proud of my education. I'm proud to be able to hang my diploma on the wall, and I'm proud to put my little ceramic Bulldog on the balcony facing the southeast, facing toward home. If I have to start changing all that just to be "taken seriously".... then I must not think too much of things the way they are. That's just how I feel about it.

I think that we'll beat Florida in, as I write this, about 11 hours from now. I'm picking 20-17 Dawgs. But win or lose, I'll love Georgia and UGA just as much on Sunday as I do right now.

The Worst Parts of Me

Been a while, right?

I decided that I wanted to do something different this weekend. Everyone was going to Leavenworth, which I understand to be like small faux German village in a valley in the Cascades. So I decided not to go. Instead, I wanted to watch Georgia and Tennessee, and I wanted to watch it by myself. I hadn't watched a game by myself in a long time, and for some reason, I just wanted to this past Saturday. Not being anti-social or anything, I just felt like spending some alone time with it. So everyone else went to Leavenworth on Saturday and I stayed behind. I slept semi-late, went for a walk, grabbed a couple of sandwiches at Subway, and turned on the TV at 12:30.

Not that I need to further profess my love for The G, so it goes without saying that Saturday was a big deal. I'd been calling for us to win the SEC ever since we beat Auburn last year (students and alums can refer to the team as "we" in my book) and my prediction was shared by Phil Steele, the author of the most accurate pre-season college magazine out there. Losing to South Carolina put us behind the 8-ball, but with Florida going down last week, the SEC East was again wide open as we rolled into Rocky Top.

So I'm sitting here in my apartment, by myself as planned, with a foot long sandwich on a plate in my lap, as we take the field, arms locked (like the last time we played in Knoxville). Arm in arm, the team walked onto the field in front of 106,000 people.

That was pretty much the last time on Saturday that I was feeling good.

Right from the opening kick, it was a disaster. The offense was terrible, so was the defense, and we gave up a blocked punt for good measure. I'm pacing around my apartment, but not good pacing, not the kind of pacing you do right before you head into overtime, for example. Bad pacing. I walked into my bathroom any number of times during stoppages in play and just stood there. Or I'd stand in the hall. Or catch a knee on the floor. Somehow, I guess I thought that if I changed positions in the living room, things would be different. But they weren't.

I'm sure that we've all had exams in college that we felt confident in taking, didn't really prepare for, and then two questions in realized how much trouble we were in. That's what it felt like Saturday. That's the most accurate way I can describe it. The first quarter was like being on number 5 of a 50 question test, and knowing that you've missed the first 4 questions. It's just a feeling of despair, and you realize that you now have to pay the price for something, and it's your own fault.

We were completely unprepared out there, at least that's how it looked to me, and it didn't take very long to figure that we were in a world of trouble. As poor as our fundamentals were and as much as the focus appeared to be lacking, the lack of a solid game plan or any visible preparation is what bothers me the most. Our coaching staff should be better than what we saw Saturday.

The game ended and we lost 35-14. Shortly thereafter, I stretched out on the couch and went to sleep for an hour or so. When I woke up, I didn't feel much better. I didn't Sunday and I don't today. It's just a hard feeling to shake, seeing something that important to you fail so miserably.

I've seen Georgia lose games before, but again, this one was just different. This wasn't like losing to Tennessee last year, or Florida in 05 when we were 8-0, or any of the other losses under Mark Richt. In all of Richt's six years coming into 2007, we'd only lost two other games that were unwinnable going into the 4th quarter. One was to eventual national champ LSU in the 2003 SECCG. The other was to Auburn the following year, when they went undefeated and finished #2. There was no shame in either. In 03, it was in the SEC Championship Game. At least we'd gotten there. In 04, we weren't going back to the SECCG anyway, but had still put up a good season. Saturday we were dominated by a team who might be fortunate to play a game in January. Saturday was lost for the sixth consecutive time to an SEC East opponent. Saturday dropped our record to 13-7 since we won the 2005 SEC crown.

As much as all of those factors were irritating me, I really can't say that's what had me in such a blue funk. Forget the SEC East losing streak or the 13-7 mark. Saturday depressed me only because of what I saw, and didn't see, on Saturday.

Sometime later on, it hit me why I was so despondent.

I spent a long time Saturday after the game thinking about some of the disappointments in my life, and they all seemed to be a lot like that game. High, perhaps unrealistic, expectations, a quick realization that trouble was afoot, and no mechanism to stop it. By the time you realized there was trouble, it was too late to address it. It's such a powerless feeling to be sitting there, unable to put the brakes on things, and KNOWING that it's going to be a bitter pill to swallow, and all you can do is wait on it. You get that feeling down deep in your stomach of impending gloom and doom. I think about the times that I took exams at Georgia that I wasn't ready for, and I'd sit at my desk and think "oh no.... why didn't I do more to avoid this? This is going to be ugly."

I think that's why Saturday struck such a bad chord with me and with a lot of other die hard Georgia fans. It was a systematic failure, like we all run across with a bad relationship, or a bad test, or bad vacation, whatever, only you saw it play it with the one entity who you really thought to be above that sort of thing. The one group that you thought could never be unprepared, never be unready, and never have their confidence shaken. You know that Mark Richt and UGA don't owe you anything, but you still feel let down. I know I do.

3

So I moved into Queen Anne on 7/7/07, which I thought was bound to be a lucky day. So far, I'd say it has been.

I really enjoy living there. The neighborhood is great. My apartment is in a pretty good location, as I can walk to just about anything I need. I kind of enjoy walking down the hill to pick up some dinner, for example.

Living in Renton, I never would've gone out walking past dark. There was a shopping center about 100 yards from my apartment complex, and I used to drive over there. I couldn't really sleep in my bed at that place because the noise from the streets was too great, and the loudest noise was the police sirens that I'd hear a few times a night. Hearing things like that makes me fairly unapt to go for a walk after dark. I think I even heard gun shots once or twice.

Queen Anne is different though. Since I've been living there, I usually head out from my place around 10:00 to walk. I've found a pretty good loop. I walk all the way to the top of Queen Anne Hill, and continue past all the restaurants and shops and what not. I take a left and walk by the softball fields, where I play on Sundays, and then walk to the two viewpoints, one which overlooks Puget Sound and the other which offers a postcard view of the city. Then I walk back to my place. It's close to three miles I think. It sure beats going to the gym as well. All the nice houses I pass by on 3rd Ave and 7th ave, all the friendly people that you come across on the sidewalks. It's just completely different from Renton. I just find it much more mentally refreshing than Ballys.

One night when I was walking, one of the first nights that I went out, I came across a church on 3rd Ave, just up the hill from the lookout. It was a small church, and looked like an older building. A closer inspection revealed that it was called Queen Anne Christian Church, and it was a Disciples of Christ church, which used to by my denomination when I was younger.

The original plan was to walk to this church from my place on Sunday morning. I liked the idea of walking up the hill with my Bible in hand, walking a mile or so to church. I thought that the walk would clear my head even more, like it does when I walk at night. Unfortunately, it was raining on Sunday morning, so I had to drive.

It's a small church and the attendance wasn't great on this day. They also had the exact same hymnals as my old church in Watkinsville, which I thought was pretty neat. The regular minister was also out of town, so they had a guest.

And when this man started to speak, I was very glad that I came.

His sermon was about the Third of the Ten Commandments, but in order to explain things more clearly, he had to explain some things about the One and Two.

The contention of his sermon was that we have misquoted and do misapply the first Three Commandments. He offered some Hebrew translation to further his point. He stated that the First Commandment, instead of "Do not worship any Gods before Me" should instead read "As I am the only God, you CANNOT worship any Gods before Me"... not as in we are disallowed, but that we physically cannot. Likewise for Number Two, which states "Do not create false idols."

This was a real eye opener for me. I'd always taken it at face value... Don't have other Gods and Don't make idols. But his contention was that this point of view is simplistic and wrong. It isn't "don't" but rather "can't"... Needless to say, at this point, I was quite intrigued.

And then we got to Number Three. I've always been taught to believe that this one was "Do not take the Lord's Name in vain." But again, the guest minister invoked some Hebrew translations to explain his point, and then invoked some logical reasoning as well. He said "So it says, 'Don't put any Gods before Me, Don't create false idols, and Don't cuss? Does that third one not seem to follow? It makes me want to cuss."

And thinking on it, he had a point. I'd just never questioned it before. He then went on to state that, according to the original Hebrew, Number Three states that you CANNOT invoke the Name of the Lord for nothing (ie, in vain). Because every time that you invoke the Name of the Lord, there is an effect. Again, it is not that we SHOULD NOT, but that we CAN NOT.

So now, I'm REALLY into it. These were ideas that I'd never considered, let alone heard. And I was fascinated. And then, it got even better.

"You CANNOT invoke the Name of the Lord with no effect. But what was the Name of the Lord to Moses? When Moses asked God how he should refer to God in talking to the Israelites, what did God say? He said 'Tell them I am.'"

I am who I am. The Great I am. HOW DID I EVER MISS THAT?

The guest minister went on to say "Anytime you say 'I am ______' you are invoking the Lord, and it CANNOT go for nothing. 'I am lonely. I am healthy. I am sad. I am wealthy. I am happy.'"

It was amazing. And I started to think about what all "I am".... which is way too personal for this forum, obviously. And I prayed about it in church, both after the sermon and during communion.

But at any rate, that's how the sermon ended, although I would've been perfectly content sitting there for another few hours learning about the rest of the Commandments.

That was July 22. I didn't go to that church on the 29th, because I was in Maine. But I'll go back next Sunday, I believe.

I have been thinking about that sermon a lot since I heard it, and how it applies to my life. And I've kept it inside since I heard it, I haven't told anyone about it or written about it until just now. I didn't know if I should, or if I wanted to. But I got to thinking about how much I enjoy Queen Anne and how excited I was when I first found that church and how intrigued I was by that sermon.

And I thought the whole time that there was a reason that I ended up in Seattle, and maybe it didn't have anything to do with adjusting homeowner claims. Or maybe it did. Or maybe it's not apparent yet. But I did think that there was a reason when I went to that city. Likewise, I think there was a reason why I went walking down 3rd Ave that night a short while ago, and a reason why I was sitting in that church on 7/22.

++

"This is a revolution of the mind."

I go to the gym practically every day. I lift weights and walk on the treadmill. I don't like running on the treadmill, it just doesn't feel right. So I walk. Walk briskly, but still walk. I like walking on one of the treadmills under a TV, and that TV is usually on CNN. I think that Anderson Cooper is a wimp. He's a very small, frail man, but beyond that, his attitude makes him a wimp. He comes across as an internationalist and his first question to any problem is "who is to blame for this?" That's wimpy I think. His whole slogan of "we're keeping 'em honest" just makes me want to puke. It's not your job to keep anyone honest Anderson. It's that level of arrogance from the major media that we could all do without. I wish someone would finally get the gumption to respond to having a CNN mic shoved in their face by saying "I don't owe you guys an explanation for anything. Go pound sand, I don't answer to you." It's not just CNN, it's every major media outlet, including ESPN.

You get in ruts sometimes. It can either be an all inclusive rut, or just a specific rut. I got into a food rut something awful near the end of April. None of the things that I was buying at the store appealed to me. I had things in the freezer that I just didn't want to eat. Furthermore, I didn't want to grab take out from any of the places I usually frequent. It was a food rut. So I went shopping at a different store and bought different things. I expanded. I bought ground turkey instead of chicken breast, oyster stew for the hell of it. And I got out of the rut, cooking and eating things that I hadn't cooked or eaten before.

The same thing happens at the gym sometimes. You get into a rut of doing the same exercises on the same days, listening to wimpy Anderson Cooper while you're on the treadmill. I can walk three miles on three different days and finish each time within five seconds. There's strength in consistency sure, I mean I can curl more now than I could by consistently doing curls four times a week. There's also mental strength in it of course. But at the same token, as David Perno would say, I think that there's also strength in being dynamic. Change it up every once in a while. A guy in high school told me once that I was single because I wore the same pair of Timberlands each day. That was silly, I was single for other reasons too, but back then I was scared to deviate too much from a routine. Now, I think it's necessary.

Some magazine ranked Bainbridge Island as the second best place in the United States to live. It's a 35 minute ferry ride from Seattle, anything further I can't exactly explain. It has a good feel to it, and I like being out there. So Thursday night, rather than walk the same walk and listen to the same wimp, I drove down to the ferry terminal and walked onto the Bainbridge ferry. I stood outside at the front of the ship for the whole ride, just me. I took my work cell phone with me because I needed a clock when I got to the island, but I left the other phone and my blackberry at home. Sometimes I like truly being by myself without a chance of being disturbed by anything. People are slaves to their communicaes. I'm no different when I have them with me. I'll probably look at my blackberry 300 times during the day to see if I have any emails. But sometimes it's good to leave those things behind. I like not having the distraction.

There sure are a lot of jelly fish in Puget Sound. I counted a ton of them during the ferry ride, big ones too. People love the ferry, and I'm no different there either. I love standing outside at the front of the vessel, smelling the salt water and the Seattle breeze. It's hard to not be in a good mood out there. I was just standing at the front of the boat looking at the jelly fish when some guy with his kids approached me and asked me how fast we were going. I said I didn't know, because I didn't want to come off sounding like the loser who knew EXACTLY how fast we were going because he'd read up on all the features of the M/V Tacoma a number of times before. I just said I didn't really know exactly. The guy said "Looks like 16-18, wouldn't you say?" I said "yeah, I bet. We're moving pretty good." Good guess on his end, since we were going 18 knots at that point. He said he heard that the water was about 600 feet deep at that spot, and I looked it up later. He was right about that too. Smart fella.

I had been walking semi-randomly around Bainbridge Island for about a half hour when I saw a sign that said "Hawley Park" on the side of the road. There was a trail. So I start walking down the trail. About two minutes into that, I started smelling the salt water, and it was really strong. "Trying to get to yoooouuuu and that booty...." was how I felt, assuming that "yoooouuuu" was the end of the trail, and "that booty" was the water. The trail ended at a cove surprisingly near the ferry terminal. I'd been walking for 30 minutes and came to a spot that was 200 yards from where I started. There were some kids messing around on the "beach" area as well. What a great hangout for some high schoolers. It was a good spot for me too. I sat down on a piece of driftwood and watched the M/V Wenatchee come in to dock. When the ship turned such that a number of windows in the main cabin were facing my general direction, I stood up and proudly exposed myself. The high school kids didn't know what to make of this seemingly unprecedented move on my part. I looked over at them while still facing toward the incoming vessel and said "you kids want to see what your future looks like?"

But in all seriousness, I sat there for about 15 minutes or so and figured that I'd better get back to walking if I wanted to get on the next ferry back to Seattle. It took about half hour or so to walk back into town. I couldn't help but think how neat it would be to live on Bainbridge. I'm sure I could rent a place there if I really wanted to. But I dunno... I'd probably get tired of having to wait on a ferry every time I wanted to go into Seattle. It'd be neat to do for a month I bet. It'd be really neat to raise a family there, assuming that I didn't want to do that in Georgia, which I do. But if I had to do it somewhere else, it might just be Bainbridge. I could see myself there, even though the populous is overwhelmingly liberal.

Once back in the downtown area I stopped off at a small grocery store near the ferry terminal. Don't eat when you aren't really hungry. Eating out of habit is how you get fat I think. And while I was walking around, I kept on thinking about how I wanted to grab something to eat for the ferry ride back. I picked up a bag of raisins, since when did those have so many calories? Each serving had 130, and there were four servings in the bag. I picked up the bag and walked it halfway to the register and then took it back. I wasn't really hungry, and so what if I look like an indecisive idiot? Sure they're just raisins, but it's my body. I should be able to put whatever I want to into MY body, but thankfully we have a government oppressive enough to protect me from myself should I ever decide I want to put some heroin in there. What a society this is. The harder you work, the more you make, the more you get taxed. Two consenting adults want to have sex, fine. But let there be a monetary transaction with it, and it's illegal? I want to buy cocaine with my own money and blow it up my own nose and I can't do that? Look, I'm not advocating any of these activities. I have no idea why you'd ever want to shoot heroin or sleep with a whore, but if it's your body, why can't you? Those activities don't harm anyone but you (and possibly the whore, but it's her own body too). I don't need anyone to protect me from myself. I have no desire to do any of those things that I mentioned, so I guess it's a moot point anyway. But it's my body and my money and I didn't want the damn raisins after all. I got a peach vitamin water instead. It was pretty good.

I love how people take pictures of the Seattle skyline on the ferry at night. You always see all these flashes going off. The pictures won't turn out at all. They'll just look like you took a very close up picture of a bucket of tar. Maybe you'll get a few dim lights in there, but probably not. I know this because I tried taking pictures of the same skyline from the same vantage point once upon a time and none of them turned out. A couple asked me to take their picture with the skyline in the background. Of course I agreed, but they'll be disappointed. But how could you not want to take a picture of that? It's just beyond words, what this city looks like coming across the sound at night. I'll never forget the first time I saw it, back in July 2003. I thought to myself then that I could really see why people fall in love with this city. It's worth getting cold to stand outside and see. That was my seventh ferry ride from either Bainbridge or Bremerton back into Seattle and the skyline just gets me every time. I can't wait to see it again.

You know Larry King kissed Marlon Brando once, on TV? King said afterward that he "couldn't stop thinking about it." I'm not about to do anything homosexual like that, because I find it disgusting personally. A lot like heroin use, but hey, if Larry King wants to lock lips with another man, that's his choice. And if he wants to say that he can't stop thinking about it, that's his choice too. I remember all my sexual encounters vividly. I think that when they cease to be seminal moments, it starts to lose some value. But what do I know? Whenever I do something out of the ordinary like take a trip to Bainbridge, visit Mt Rainier, or whatever, I can't stop thinking about it afterward. It's like my mind just doesn't leave those places. I went to sleep last night wishing that I could have sat on that piece of driftwood for another two hours, just watching the water, and watching the sky get dark.

A great day to whoop somebody's ass

Want to know one way to piss me off? Get me intrigued about moving into your apartment complex, only to tell me that I make TOO MUCH money to live there.

Today is June 5, so I still have time, but I'm starting to feel some pressure about finding a new place. I gave my current apartment complex written notice today that I'll have my happy ass out by June 30. I need somewhere to go.

I am looking at a place tomorrow, and three places on Friday. I also have some calls into some other places that I really like a lot. So it's not like there's nothing out there, but I just don't like the uncertainty of not knowing where I'm going to go.

It's also very expensive to live in Seattle, especially the parts where I want to live. I can't afford to pay $1,400 a month for an apartment and maintain the flexibility to do the things I want in my off time. No place is worth is so much that you have to spend practically every moment there.

I have found some places in the $900s or even $800s, and I can swing that. I've been scouring Craigslist really hard the last few days, and there are some good leads there. I just got really angry looking for places online just now though. I found this place on apartments.com.... It wasn't my first choice for neighborhoods, so I don't suppose it is that heartbreaking, but still. I'm reading the description for this place and I'm thinking "wow, those are some great prices..." Dirt cheap deposits too. And then, down at the bottom, I see "income restrictions apply." To move into this place and live by yourself, you must earn LESS than $32,700.

Just how screwed up is this country when there is a mandate that you must be BELOW a certain to income limit to move into a private residental establishment?

There are a lot of things that I like about Seattle. The very first time I came here, I said "wow, I can see how this city would really get into your blood." When I had to choose a branch office to go with Amica with last October, Seattle was really my only choice. I don't regret that now, certainly not. And while it's not "in my blood" right now, I still see how it could be one day. But one of the things that I don't like about this place and that I've never liked about it is this overwhelming leftist influence. I knew what I was getting into here, but it still flashes at me sometimes and makes me angry. Today was one such day.

One a different note, I was talking to the people in my current leasing office today about moving out. The lease lady asked "What is going on with your neighbors?".... I found her question funny, because I probably have more grounds to complain about them than anyone, because of my apartment's proximity to theirs, and I haven't said a word. Not because I'm spineless or anything, but just because I don't like to bitch about stuff. But she asked the question, and I answered it, explaining that they were very loud, that people were usually coming and going from their apartments at all hours, that they slam doors and stand on the landing and yell at each other, and that they fight with each other a lot. The lease lady took it all in with very little surprise and said "Yeah, we've had some complaints. We've told the police about them."

To which I replied "Well, there's certainly no lack of police activity around here."


This will work out. It always does.