November 24 2003 || 8:47 a.m. - It's amazing how much of a difference 2 weeks can make. Utterly amazing.

Balloon recap. Damn't. Eventually, I'll put the rest of my vacation pics up.

balloon 1
balloon 2
balloon 3
balloon 4
balloon 5

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

--Henry David Thoreau--

November 19 2003 || 8:59 p.m. - Tomorrow will be a good day. I'm flying back to California for ummm...reasons undisclosed. I'll be back...this time. Yeah. That's about it. :-)

They must often change, who would be constant in happiness or wisdom.

--Confucius--

November 17 2003 || 9:43 p.m. - Holy shit. This works again. Umm...hi there. Lots of updates. Big, big, big news. Ummm...Soon. Yeah. Very, very soon. I fell in love with California. I'm going back there very, very soon. Peace! :-)

When you are through changing, you are through.

--Bruce Barton--

October 30 2003 || 11:18 p.m. - Tomorrow is the day. :-)

Updates will be forthcoming here. :-)

It is not down in any map; true places never are.

--Herman Melville--

October 29 2003 || 8:15 p.m. - I've had a home phone for all of 6 days. I've given my number out to ONE person, and she doesn't even live in Texas. Just 5 minutes ago, a telemarketer called me. WHAT THE SHIT IS UP WITH THAT! The only thing I can think of is that Southwestern Bell has already sold my number to whoever they sell shit to. Fucking bastards.

DAY AFTER TOMORROW! WOOHOO! I. Can't. Wait. To. See. Her. I'm hoping the fires in Cali won't affect my travels too much. As of now, the balloon ride in Temecula is iffy. The next couple of days will be crucial. Still, seeing how thing I'm most interested in is seeing her, the balloon ride is not too much of a concern. :-)

While I'm off in Nevernever land, I'll be updating this page...just not here. I'll be making sporadic updates to my Geocities page in place of this one. The updates will consist of mainly pictures. And there will be many; I guarantee it. :-)

I'm very, very excited. :-)

Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.

--Nathaniel Hawthorne--

October 27 2003 || 6:40 p.m. - The anatomy of a busy day:

6:45 a.m. - Crawl out of bed, still mildy hungover from Saturday night
7:00 a.m. - Exit shower, get dressed.
7:30 a.m. - Arrive at office.
7:45 a.m. - Phone starts ringing. Start taking calls.

Time passes

12:00 p.m. - Take a deep breath, avoid phone calls. Call California connection.
12:15 p.m. - Forced to hang up. Resume taking phone calls.
12:30 p.m. - Throw hands up in a fit of rage.
12:31 p.m. - Explain self to onlookers.
12:32 p.m. - Continue bitching about work.
12:45 p.m. - Think about taking a lunch break.
12:46 p.m. - Realize that errands have to be run in place of lunch.
12:47 p.m. - Starve.
1:18 p.m. - Arrive back at office.
1:19 p.m. - Return countless phone calls.
1:35 p.m. - Throw hands up in air...again.
1:38 p.m. - Explain self...again.
2:15 p.m. - Wish I was somewhere else.
2:16 p.m. - Take short break.
2:17 p.m. - Breath.
2:25 p.m. - Resume work.
3:00 p.m. - Still working. Phone won't stop ringing. Fires must be put out.
3:15 p.m. - Feel hunger pains.
4:15 p.m. - Day slows down.
4:30 p.m. - Call California connection...again.
4:45 p.m. - Refuse to take phone calls.
5:00 p.m. - Return phone calls.
5:15 p.m. - Start to walk out door.
5:16 p.m. - Forced to turn back cause of phone calls.
5:30 p.m. - Leave office.
5:31 p.m. - Breath sigh of relief.
6:40 p.m. - Update webpage.
6:41 p.m. - Rinse. Repeat.

Sorry for the lack of updates this past weekend. I was busy getting slammed in Laredo.

I hope these California fires don't hinder my trip. Cross your fingers for me. :-)

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.

--Scott Adams--

October 23 2003 || 6:38 p.m. - I'm feeling it. I'm feeling it bad. I feel myself burning out. I feel myself winding down. This vacation I'll be taking is going to be such a God-send. This week has been hectic beyond belief. Next week is going to be spectacularly hectic...I know it already. On top of my usual workload, I have to make sure that a boatload of files are intact before I leave.

I don't know where I'll be this weekend. Prolly Laredo, as usual. I need out of here. I need a break. I need A VACATION!

A rep. from one of the lenders we send deals to stopped by today. According to this guy, we are, hands down, the busiest mortgage company in town. We have more files in the works than anyone else. We have more business than anyone else. In the past two days, we've got about 19 new customers. This time of year, typically, real estate slows down. Business has picked up for us. It's picked up significantly. I have next to zero idle time at work. I don't feel like I'm falling behind, but I'm really starting to feel overwhelmed.

My cousin, the beast, saw a Mana concert last night. He called me up to brag. I told him that while he may have those memories, he won't beat me. As soon as I told him I'd be sure to share photos of the California coast from a hot air balloon 3000 feet up, he shut his face. HA! Bitchcakes.

Perhaps I'll have more later. Perhaps not...

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

--Oscar Wilde--

October 22 2003 || 8:48 p.m. - Palindromes still rule.

Lack of updates abound. Yes, I know. **Sigh**

Things have been...well...there. Yeah. Indifference is abundant.

Put the SUNSET PACIFIC COASTAL EXPERIENCE on my list for Saturday, November 1. I reserved two spots on a balloon today. I think I'll take about 2305 pictures of this experience. :-) Yes, I'm excited about it.

I'm still bored. **Sigh**

God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled.

--Author Unknown--

October 21 2003 || 10:20 p.m. - 10 * 2 = 20. 10 more days.

Patience is a virtue.

The reverse side also has a reverse side.

--Japanese Proverb--

October 20 2003 || 9:24 p.m. - Yep. Today was a Monday alright. I hate Mondays. HATE. Ah well, it's over. I noticed something very interesting last night while washing my hands in the kitchen sink. I've used numerous types of dishwashing soap. Dawn, Palmolive, Caress, etc. It seems like the liquid soaps that proclaim to "cut through the grease" or to "get rid of grease" often feel the greasiest. Am I the only person who notices this? It's like, to remove grease effectively, one must use soap that is extremely greasy. Interesting, no? No.

She saw the new Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie yesterday. She was scared. Real scared. She was under the impression that the story told was a true story. Not so. Damn, I love Snopes.

Anyhow, phone call time. I'm out like a scout.

Adults are obsolete children.

--Dr. Seuss--

October 19 2003 || 9:59 p.m. - I like palindromes.

Yay bandwidth. It seems that my ISP (Road Runner/Time Warner) has given me, and presumably the rest of their customers, a gift of sorts. On average, I'm downloading at about 380k/second. Two weeks ago, I was averaging about 275k/second. Yay Road Runner. Yay me.

On another note, I really don't want to go to work tomorrow. I really don't like Mondays. At all. I guess the fact that next Friday is just around the bend consoles me somewhat. I really _can't_ wait. I'm anxious. The anxiety builds with every passing day.

I'm happy for my friend in California. By the middle of this week, she should be completely settled into her new place. When she is settled, she'll breathe a sigh of relief; as will I. :-)

Hold on...I gotta watch the Matrix Revolutions trailer now. It only took 4 minutes to download the 100+ meg file. :-) Yay bandwidth.

I think I just creamed my pants. Something tells me that movie is gonna be good.

That being said, I'm out for now.

Sorry I made you wait around for me to watch the trailer, only to come back to simply say goodbye. :-)

We promise according to our hopes, and perform according to our fears.

--Francois duc de la Rochefoucauld--

October 19 2003 || 3:41 p.m. - Two prime numbers. yeah.

Creepy Cassie

My cousin, the beast

I before E, except after C.

--Sesame Street--

October 18 2003 || 10:19 p.m. - 7, and counting. 13. Damn't, I'm bored. What should I do? Any thoughts? Bah.

Sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drink I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say to myself, it is better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver.

--Jack Handey--

October 18 2003 || 5:19 p.m. - Mwahahahaha. Yeah. Here's some pics of the family. Just a few. And ummmm, of my "cousin" Cassie. Yeah, they're candid pics, cause, well, no one wanted to pose and stuff. I'll put some pics up of yours truly in a short while.

My mommy.
My dad and brother
Cassie, lying down
Cassie, sitting down
Cassie, close-up
Cassie, profile shot

Yes, I love that dog. She's a good girl.

More pics, and updates, later :-)

If you want to be happy, be.

--Leo Tolstoy--

October 18 2003 || 11:13 a.m. - Mwahahahaha.

In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs man's torments.

--Friedrich Nietzsche--

October 17 2003 || 9:58 p.m. - I bought a digital camera today. The same one I pointed out in my previous entry. Since it's a new toy, of course I've been picture crazy. Given that, please allow me to present my house. Yes, it's a mess. Yes, it's decorated sparsely. But damn't, it's mine. I haven't thrown money away on rent in over a year, and I'm never looking back! On to the photos.

What I stare at/listen to on a daily basis.
Where I eat. Yes, I love that monkey
My old pseudo-couch. It's pretty useless now.
The computer. Where magic happens. Yes, my next major purchase will be a real computer desk. And a chair. Believe it or not, this setup is comfy.
One side of my kitchen. No, I didn't drink all that beer in one night. That's a weeks worth of bottles. I thought the pyramid thing looked neat. Yes, I'm an idiot.
The other side of my kitchen. The dirty microwave. The sharp knives. The Splenda. And of course, the juicer I've not used in 10 months.
Yeah. My sofa. I didn't bother primping it up. It does look nicer, but I'm too lazy tonight to fix it up. Note the tiger above. And of course, the obligatory surround sound speakers with the exposed wires. Yes, I know the pic is dark. Deal with it.
The loveseat matches the sofa. The pic above it is from Deviantart.com (Not that you can see it). Again, I know it's dark. Deal with it.
My closet. I never realized how much clothes I have till I took this pic.
Where I store my shoes. On the floor. To your right is the Gamecube. Yep.
I told you I love that monkey
This pic is pretty self-explanatory.

That's about it for now. Now that I have a digital camera, I'll probably be posting pics of stuff I find interesting, or something.

That being said...I'm out.

A proverb is a short sentence based on long experience.

--Miguel de Cervantes--

October 16 2003 || 2:21 a.m. - What the shit am I doing awake? GO TO SLEEP, MONKEY BOY!

15 days, and counting.

This weekend is set to be jam packed with fun. Oh yes. Friday night I'm supposed to be in fun-filled Kingsville. For those of you not familiar with Kingsville, it's like one big clique. I guess it's your typical small town. But there's something else about it. Everyone there is somehow tied to everyone else in some way. Everyone knows everyone elses story. Allegedly, my cousin and I, along with his fiance, and possibly another cousin of mine, are supposed to go to a Tejano club. I've not danced Tejano since I was a senior in high school. That's 7 years. I'll have to drink plenty before I actually hit the dance floor. If I'm gonna make an ass out of myself, I may as well do it while drunk.

5586. Stevie Wonder - I Just Called To Say...

Simon, in his whoreness, is making a button for me. In case anyone is interested in linking to my site, you'll be able to use this button. Who am I kidding, NO ONE VISITS HERE! Perhaps this button will change that.

906. Ben Harper - Beloved One (Live)

This is a great song.

USE MY BUTTON! (When it's done, of course)

I feel like a 5 year old. I'm sitting here, yawning frequently, yet I insist on fighting the fact that I need to go to bed. What is it about being a kid that makes defiance seem so "cool"? I mean, when I was a kid, my mom would tell me to eat, and I'd whine about it. She'd tell me to shower, and I'd whine. Looking back, I realize how stupid my defiance was. I mean, I'd turn something as trivial as brushing my teeth, or bathing, into a scandal (No, brushing and bathing isn't trivial, but the actual physical process is simplistic and evanescent). Heh. Evanescent. I learned a new word today. :-)

The button is done. Yay for the button.

I am learning all the time. The tombstone will be my diploma.

--Eartha Kitt--

October 15 2003 || 9:46 p.m. - I'm bored. Damn't, I'm bored. Holy hell, I'm bored.

I cleaned my house this evening. I cleaned...my house. That's how bored I am. I took out the trash. I washed some clothes. I organized my closet. I swept. What the devil is wrong with me.

3798. Limp Bizkit - Red Light Green Light

Damn't.

I could use a beer right about now.

I wonder what the weekend will bring. Only time will tell, I suppose.

3063. Hamasaki Ayumi - Trauma (JamX & De Leon's DuMonde Remix)

Anything you lose automatically doubles in value.

--Mignon McLaughlin--

October 15 2003 || 7:03 p.m. - I'm right. They're wrong. That's all there is to it.

A file of mine closed today, and I'm upset. Why? Well, I wasn't at the closing, but the loan officer was. According to him they a) lied about me, and b) bad-mouthed me. "They" being the buyers and the seller. They essentially said that I didn't know what I was doing, and that I put their file on the back-burner cause of the small loan size. I have three words for these people..."You unappreciative fucks." I bent over backwards for these people. I pulled strings I wouldn't normally pull. I did things I wouldn't normally do. I went out of my fucking way to help them. What thanks do I get? I get bad-mouthed, and lied about. According to one of the buyers, I "told him that his file didn't matter...that I could care less about it." Where he got this from, I don't know. He must have been talking to some other O.J. in some bizarro world, or something.

What gets me is that these people have credit that's, frankly, in the toilet. All their lives, they have consistenly paid bills late, or not paid them at all. Despite that, they expected to get into a house with no money at all, and they expected to close quickly, within days, not the weeks that it took. Common sense dictates, if your credit is in the shitter, a lender isn't just going to give you a loan, no questions asked. They're going to be meticulous. They're going to go through your paperwork with a fine-toothed comb. Despite that, we found them a loan. We closed the loan. We got them into a house. Then they bad-mouthed me and the company I work for. Well, FUCK THEM.

I'm sick of assholes. I'm just sick of them. We close loans that no one else will be able to close. That's the bottom line. If necessary, we will make no money just to make a deal work. Most of the time, we get a thank you, but sometimes, as in this case, we get the shaft. Well, fuck those people. They can eat my ass for all I care. Assholes.

The above tirade aside, I'm feeling pretty damn good. I'm glad tomorrow is Thursday. I like Thursdays. Thursday is the day before Friday.

By the way, she who makes me faint no longer makes me faint. As a matter of fact, I find her completely repulsive. I won't go into details, cause, well, I'm not that much of an asshole. :-)

I tell you this, and I tell you plain:
What you have done, you will do again;
You will bite your tongue, careful or not,
Upon the already-bitten spot.

--Mignon McLaughlin--

October 14 2003 || 8:11 p.m. - 311 is a good group, especially when added to 500.

Today was a good day, relatively speaking. I still don't know what it is that has overpowered me. This feeling. This...this thing. Whatever it is, I hope it sticks. This feeling is helping my performance at work. I've been very productive this week.

On the way home today, I was doing about 85 down the freeway...about my usual speed. Out of nowhere, a black corvette sped by me. The person driving must have been doing about 120 or so. I thought to myself, "Now THAT'S the way a vette should be driven!"

I'm happy that I've had a somewhat steady stream of visitors to this site. I have no idea from where you folks come, but thanks for visiting. :-) On average, I'm getting between 10-15 hits per day. A far cry from the MP3 webpage I had back in 1997-98 (1000+ hits/day), but satisfying none-the-less.

I'm planning to buy a digital camera before I leave to California. This is the camera I have in mind. It's a little over $170.00 here. Of course, as with any purchase I make, I have to research it online thoroughly. Anyone reading this have any thoughts on this camera? Didn't think so. :-)

But really, I do need to buy a camera. I mean, I'm 25 years old, and this is the first _real_ vacation I'm taking on my own. It sounds lame, I know, but this is actually a pretty big step for me personally. I've taken countless trips out of town on my own; Laredo, San Antonio, South Texas, etc., but never a trip like this. I'm anxious to see how things go. I'm anxious to know what it feels like to travel such a distance alone. Time will most certainly tell. I'm pretty sure that this trip will be the first of many. :-)

Another boring entry, I know, but ummm, yeah, sorry. :-)

It is an important and popular fact that things are not always what they seem. For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars and so on - whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man - for precisely the same reasons.

--Douglas Adams--

October 13 2003 || 10:10 p.m. - 220. 18 more days.

Have you ever been overwhelmed by a feeling of complete calm? As if something is telling you that everything is going to be alright? I got that feeling this afternoon. For no real reason, really. I was just sitting at my desk, sifting through my many files, and I got this feeling; a feeling of calm; of serenity. I still feel that way now. It feels better than just about anything I've ever felt.

These past few days, I've felt strange. I don't know what it is, but I've been feeling...I don't know. All day long, I don't really think about anything. I'm a man of many thoughts. My brain is always working. Wondering where the seagull outside my house is headed. Wondering if the chair I'm sitting in is going to suddenly break. Thinking about the fool that cut me off this morning. Thinking about what I want for lunch. Thinking about what I'm going to do after work. I've often thought that I think too much. Way too much. Here lately, though, I've not been thinking about much of anything. That probably explains the sheer monotony displayed in my last few journal entries. I guess it feels good to not think about anything. Then again, it also feels bad. Maybe I'm just an idiot. :-)

I haven't even been feeling bored. One would think that thinking about nothing all day long would lead to complete boredom. Not true. I mean, as my title says, generally speaking, I'm in a perpetual state of boredom, but these past few days, I've not been bored. I've just been...there.

What has really kept me going has been the fact that I'm going off to the west coast in less than 18 days. I'm excited about my trip. She's excited about my trip. It's going to be a good trip. We've worked the whole itinerary out. I've already promised my mom I'd gamble 25 of my own dollars, and give whatever I win from those 25 bucks to her. I've also told her (not my mom, "her") that I'd donate 20% of my winnings to her "establish myself firmly in California" fund. Of course, I made these avowals anticipating that I won't win a dime. :-) If I do win, I suppose I can rest assured that my funds will be donated to one or two good causes (feeding my mother, or helping my friend). :-)

Out, I am.

Soul-mates are people who bring out the best in you. They are not perfect but are always perfect for you.

--Author Unknown--

October 12 2003 || 9:26 p.m. - I miss her like crazy.

This weekend was good. Not great, but good. My cousin and I went out for a few beers Friday night. We had two dinners, one on one side of the border, and a better one on the other side of the border. :-)

We were bored as hell yesterday, so we decided to see Underworld. Big, big mistake. That movie was so poorly written, I can't even describe the disgust I felt in my stomach after sitting through it. I'm ashamed of myself for even buying a ticket to that show. Damn that movie.

Today, I didn't do shit. I layed around. All day.

Oh, I bought a Super Nintendo yesterday. Now, all I need is Super Mario Kart. Then, my life will be complete.

So she's back in California now. I tried to make it to the bus station Friday evening to see her before she left. Her bus departed at 8 p.m., I didn't get into Laredo till about 8:05 p.m. Had it not been raining the whole way over, I would have made it. Damn weather.

I miss her more than I've ever missed her. I don't know why, really. I guess the fact that her leaving this time is more permanent has something to do with it. She's no longer there for school. She's now there to stay.

I miss her dearly, and am counting the days till October 31. That day will be a good day. A very good day.

Alas, that is all I have to say...for now at least. Adieu.

I like her because she smiles at me and means it.

--Tas Soft Wind--

October 11 2003 || 12:16 p.m. - Greetings from Laredo, TX.

Four words. I miss her already. 20 days, and counting.

Happiness is a function of accepting what is.

--Werner Erhard--

October 9 2003 || 9:30 p.m. - Sad: A man who lived in my home town committed suicide today.

Funny: My cousin spilled milk in the trunk of his car. Now, it smells like rotten meat and shit combined.

I'm bored.

Boredom is an emptiness filled with insistence.

--Leo Stein--

October 9 2003 || 9:20 p.m. - Funny shit. More here. Cyber sex gone wrong. :-)

bloodninja: Wanna cyber?
Katie_007: Sure, you into vegetables?
bloodninja: What like gardening an shit?
Katie_007: Yeah, something like that.
bloodninja: Nothing turns me on more, check this out:
bloodninja: You bend over to harvest your radishes.
**pause**
Katie_007: is that it?
bloodninja: You water your tomato patch.
bloodninja: Are you ready for my fresh produce?
Katie_007: I was thinking of like, sexual acts INVOLVING vegetables... Can you make it a little more sexy for me?
**pause**
bloodninja: I touch you on your lettuce, you massage my spinach... sexily.
bloodninja: I ride your buttocks like they were amber waves of grains.
Katie_007: Grain doesn't really turn me on... I was thinking more along the lines of
carrots and zucchinis.
bloodninja: my zucchinis carresses your carrots.
bloodninja: Damn baby you're right, this shit is HOTT.
Katie_007: ...
bloodninja: My turnips listen for the soft cry of your love. My insides turn to celery as I unleash my warm and sticky cauliflower of love.
Katie_007: What the f*ck is this madlibs? I'm outta here.
bloodninja: Yeah, well I already unleashed my cauliflower, all over your olives, and up in your eyes. Now you can't see. Bitch.
Katie_007: whatever.

Laughter is an instant vacation.

--Milton Berle--

October 9 2003 || 7:57 p.m. - I'm over it. Yay me. Mierda. This file will close. I guarantee you.

So yeah, I'm looking forward to this weekend. I don't know where I'll be, or what I'll be doing, but I'm looking forward to it none-the-less.

So back to realtors. I hate them. All of them. They show some houses, fill in some blanks, then basically raise hell till they get their way. They charge a fee for their paltry services; services that, often times, they can't do properly, then expect everyone else to work for free to make a file work. Getting a realtor to cut their commissions is like talking to a wall, expecting an answer; it's pointless. Realtors don't know what I do. They don't know what I go through on a daily basis. They don't know what I have to do to secure financing for borrowers with trashed credit. All they know is that they filled in some blanks, and that they expect to get overpaid for doing so. All they know is that nothing is their fault.

I guess I have to give them some credit. They know how to do one thing very well. They know how to point fingers. They know how to pass the blame. They know how to convince clients that as realtors, they do no wrong.

They're asses. Fucking...asses.

Frankly, I'm tired of bending over and taking it in the arse for realtors pretending to give a shit about their client(s). I'm sick of it. As of today, it stops. I'm not taking shit from them anymore. Ever. I've had it.

Now what? Arnold is governor, which is fine, but now what? NO MORE ARNOLD MOVIES! Damn't. I suppose it's for the best.

I'm anxious. I'm ancy. I want to leave. I want to take my vacation. The past three months have been the most stressful months I've ever had. Ever. July...August...September, they were all so stressful. October is turning out to be the same. I need my vacation. Vegas is calling my name, and I am unable to answer.

Avoid the man hands.

We have no right to ask when sorrow comes, "Why did this happen to me?" unless we ask the same question for every moment of happiness that comes our way.

--Author Unknown--

October 9 2003 || 7:03 p.m. - I'm very frustrated right now. Frustrated with realtors. Very, very frustrated.

On another note. I have a word of advice for you readers out there. Avoid the man hands.

That is all

Anger is a short madness.

--Horace--

October 8 2003 || 8:23 p.m. - Prime rib is good. I had a 16 oz. prime rib for dinner. With a side salad, and a bowl of chili. I"m full, but I don't feel bloated. Yay for me. Yay for low carbs. W00t.

Today was a day plagued by...by...by indifference. If anyone would have asked me "OJ, how do you feel today?" I would have said "Indifferent." Well, maybe not indifferent. I mean, I didn't just sit around not giving a shit about stuff, I just didn't worry about stuff today. It's becoming easier for me to not worry about stuff. It's becoming easier for me to simply take things in stride; to take things one at a time; to take life one day at a time. Work is busy as hell, but I'm managing better than I ever have.

I'm so looking forward to October 31, it's not even funny anymore. I'm so anxious about my trip, I'm losing sleep. When October began, I thought that because I'm taking a trip at the month's end, the month would drag. Thankfully, I was wrong. Dead wrong. This month has flown by like none other. Thank you, October.

She's still on my mind. I still miss her. I can't wait to see her again. :-)

I'm out...for now...

Bypasses are devices that allow some people to dash from point A to point B very fast while other people dash from point B to point A very fast. People living at point C, being a point directly in between, are often given to wonder what's so great about point A that so many people from point B are so keen to get there and what's so great about point B that so many people from point A are so keen to get there. They often wish that people would just once and for all work out where the hell they wanted to be.

--Douglas Adams--

October 7 2003 || 7:38 p.m. - So yeah. I spent the whole weekend with her. Since we spent literally every waking hour together, I got to know her better . She called me on a frustration she had. I corrected it. I'm very appreciative of the fact that she called me on it. Very, very appreciative. Frustration aside, it was a wonderful weekend. We really didn't do much of anything. We drove over to Laredo Friday night to see Out of Time. Good flick.

Saturday, we hung around the house all day. We made lasagna for lunch/dinner. I'd not eaten pasta of any type since I started dieting. After one piece of lasagna, I was completely stuffed. Enter cheating, round 2. We had ice cream later on that night. More stuffed. Ugh. Saturday night was movie night. We watched Serendipity, and Return to Me. Serendipity was a good flick; Return to Me was alright. I had originally planned to leave her house Saturday night, but it got late, and well, I didn't really wanna leave her. :-)

Sunday morning rolls around, and I was supposed to leave at about 7 a.m. I woke up, I packed my stuff, and I intended to leave. Saturday night, I slept maybe 3.5 hours. Friday, I slept about 6 or so. Come Sunday morning, I was tired. I was going to leave cause, well, for reasons I wish to not divulge. Since I was tired, very tired; she had me stay through Sunday. We didn't do much Sunday. Her, her mom, and I worked on the yard a bit. Later that day, more carbohydrate intake ensued. We made tacos with carb-filled corn tortillas. Once again, stuffage ensued. Later that night, we had more ice cream. Ugh. I actually didn't leave her house till about 10:00 p.m. Sunday. I got home after midnight. I was still tired. Dead tired.

I miss her already. I love spending time with her. I feel content around her. Especially after this weekend. I don't know what it is, but I feel good after this weekend. I'm feeling very pleased. Moreso than I have after the other weekends I spent with her.

I think that's about all for now. I'm out...

Perhaps I know best why it is man alone who laughs; he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter.

--Friedrich Nietzsche--

October 6 2003 || 9:36 p.m. - I spent this past weekend with her. All weekend. It was good. Very good. More later. Need sleep. Goodnight, Mr. Quasi-blog.

Happiness is never stopping to think if you are.

--Palmer Sondreal--

October 2 2003 || 10:06 p.m. - Have you ever? Do you ever? Don't you ever wonder? Did you ever consider that? When was the last time? Do you not know? Do you knot now?

This shit has been floating around the 'net for a few days now. I'm posting it here cause I'm a loser who lags behind all the trends. Feh.

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht frist and lsat ltteer is at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by itslef but the wrod as a wlohe.

Neat, no? No.

Shania Twain is fucking unoriginal. She has a song called "Up", and a song called "Nah". What the fuck is that? And then there's Jewel. She's got a song called "Don't". BE ORIGINAL! YOU SHITS GET PAID MILLIONS OF DOLLARS TO COME UP WITH 2-4 LETTER WORDS AS SONG TITLES!? Unbe-fucking-lievable. I before E, except after C.

Oh shit. I forgot about Dre.

It's as if the caffeine I imbibed hours ago is just kicking in. Yes, I know that I used the word "imbibed" previously, but fuck it. OK, fine, how about assimilate, or ingurgitate? No? How about quaff, souse, or tipple? I AM A WALKING, TALKING THESAURUS (and an exaggerating liar). Do you realize that I almost spelled exaggerate with two x's? How stupid am I

Don't answer that question.

I'm such a stickler when it comes to writing the HTML that generates this page. Take a look at the source. Come on. Do it. It's almost too organized. I remember my 2nd year in college (well, I remember bits and pieces of it). I recall taking a course in C. I didn't learn shit about the language. Hell, I ended up dropping the wretched class 3 weeks into it. I did, however, manage to write a program that calculated the area of a right triangle. Yay me. Don't ask me to do it again, cause I can't. Anyhow, one thing I learned, was how to make my code look pretty. With all sorts of comments. With my spacing all nice and shit. With indents all lined up. I guess I thought that if the code looked pretty, the teacher would pass me, or something. I remember that teacher. You know that guy...Bill Nye the Science Guy. This professor reminded me of him, only geekier (if you can imagine that). The guy would make jokes about lines of code. I don't know what was creepier, him making the jokes, or the fact that people would actually laugh out loud at them **Shudder**.

"When I Fall", by The Barenaked Ladies is a beautiful song.

Time for some Tejano. Ah yes, "Suena" by Intocable. Excellent.

Tomorrow is Friday. Sadly, today didn't even feel like Thursday. It didn't have that exciting Thursday feel I wrote about some time ago.

I'm done for now. Back to wallowing in the boredom that is Thursday night. Adieu. That being said, I like this quote. Adieu, again.

Would there be this eternal seeking if the found existed?

--Antonio Porchia--

October 2 2003 || 7:45 p.m. - Does anyone know where the remote control for my TV is? I lost it 5 weeks ago.

And upsidedown in the earth a dead man walks upon my soles when I walk.

--Author Unknown--

October 2 2003 || 7:03 p.m. - http://chroniclesofgeorge.nanc.com/. Enjoy :-)

Adversity has the effect of eliciting talents which, in prosperous circumstances, would have lain dormant.

--Quintus Horatius Flaccus--

October 1 2003 || 10:26 p.m. - I'm still hooked on that look she had. I mean, damn. Yeah. Happy October! Today was a good day. Not a damn good day, but just a good day. I got a shitload of work done, I talked to her a few times, and I had a good dinner.

I'm gonna miss her when she leaves tomorrow. I truly am. Last night, she said something to me that just made smile. For about 2 hours, I had this unrelenting smile on my face. It just wouldn't go away. 1:9 - 2:8. Indeed, that made me happy. I think that's why I had such a good day today.

Looking back at my entries over the last couple of weeks, I'm just now realizing that much of what I write is about her. Interesting.

As far as work goes, well, it's there. Work is work. September was a really good month...very productive.

I'm thinking of going home this weekend. My grandma's 5th anniversary mass is this coming Saturday. It feels like just yesterday that she passed away. I can still see myself...11:00 p.m., sitting outside on the phone, when I heard the call waiting beep. It was my father. My father never calls after 10 p.m. My grandma was in the hospital. I knew what words were about to emerge from his mouth.

My grandma was such a beautiful person. I was 20 when she passed. In the 20 years knowing her, she never, and I mean never got upset with me, or with any of her other grandchildren. If we did something wrong, she would just smile and let us on our merry way. She loved us too much to get mad at us. I miss her.

When I was a child, my mom bought me a pogo stick (at my request). I hopped around on it for about 18 seconds. I fell off of it...flat on my face. I haven't used a pogo stick since.

She makes me smile. :-)

That's all for now.

If you smile when no one else is around, you really mean it.

--Andy Rooney--

September 29 2003 || 6:38 p.m. - The look. Oh, the look. Yesterday afternoon, just before I left her house, as she sat on the couch, I stared down at her. The look in her eyes was, in a word, breathtaking. Never before had I seen that look in her eyes. The look of happiness; the look of contentment; it blew me away. I don't know that she knew that she had that look in her eyes, but if she reads this, she will. I don't know where we're going. I mean, she's still hung up on Mr. Jerk, but that look spoke volumes.

I don't know what I'm getting myself into. I really don't. But spending this past weekend with her was so wonderful, it doesn't even matter to me what I'm getting myself into.

I sense that the situation will turn out either really good, or really bad. For some reason, I don't see their being a middle road. Not that I wouldn't take the middle road, should it present itself, but I just can't see it.

Bah...maybe that's just the pessimist in me rearing his ugly head. I'm keeping my head up. I'm trying to think positively.

If you're alone, I'll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I'll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I'll be your smile. But anytime you need a friend, I'll just be me.

--Author Unknown--

September 28 2003 || 8:00 p.m. - The weekend was good. The weekend was very good. I spent much time with her, and it was good. The wedding was nice. I actually had fun at the reception. Most importantly, I spent much time with her, and it was good.

I slept till 1 p.m. today. 1 p.m. I hadn't slept that late since about 1997, or something. In all honesty, had I not been woken up, Id've probably slept till 3 or 4 in the afternoon.

Oddly, I didn't wake up with a nasty hangover. Very odd after last night. 13 beers on an empty stomach.

I really didn't want this weekend to end. Really.

Her mom read my webpage. For the first 7 or so seconds after hearing her mom say "I read your webpage", I felt very, very embarrassed. Once the 7 seconds passed, well, the embarrassment had subsided. Now, for some odd reason, knowing that her mother read my rants is somewhat satisfying. Speaking of that, her mom is such a nice person. I now know where she gets it from.

That's about all I have to say for now...

Damn, I found a good quote today. Yay me.

If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a boomerang.

--Charley Reese--

September 25, 2003 || 11:25 p.m. - Ahhh, yes. The joy of Thursday. The day before Friday. The day after Wednesday. Sometimes, Thursday feels better than Friday. It's kind of like when I was a kid, and I wanted that kick ass transformer I saw at Wal-Mart. It looked so neat in that little box; all colorful and appealing. But when I bought it, and opened it, it sort of lost its appeal, you know? The thrill of wanting something often surpasses the thrill of actually getting that something. As far as Thursday goes, the thrill of knowing that tomorrow is Friday is often times more exciting than the thrill of Friday itself. That was quite a little euphemism I came up with, no? Alright, so it really wasn't a euphemism, but shit, it's late, and that's the best I can come up with.

The joys of Kazaa (That was me being sarcastic). I'm trying to download "Like a Pimp" by David BOnner, and every copy I've got so far has been a dud. Thanks RIAA. Your futile efforts will do nothing more than fuel my fire. Holy shit, that was funny. One of the duds had the theme from Pac-Man playing in the background the whole time. Annoying, yes. Funny, most certainly.

"By the time I hit the door, I saw hos on the floor." 4th time's a charm. Thanks for nothing, Kazaa.

So here's the story. Apparently, I can ftp to my Road Runner webpage directory only from a computer connected to the Internet via Road Runner (IP range of 24.243.xxx.xxx, I think). What the shit is up with that? That pretty much means I can't update this page during the day. Like during my lunch, or something. I gotta do it either early in the damn morning, or late in the damn evening. BULLSHIT! Eat my scrot', Time Warner. I gotta figure out how to spoof my work IP, or something, so I can fool RR's ftp into thinking I'm connecting from a RR computer.

Yeah, boring entry today, I know. Oh well. Such is life. I'm out.

Oh, wait, something interesting did happen today. Well, interesting as far as I'm concerned. I had an 8 a.m. appointment with a new client. A very cute new client. Yeah. That's my story. She was cute.

Now I'm out.

The greatest miracle of love is the cure of coquetry.

--François Duc de la Rochefoucauld--

September 24 2003 || 8:42 p.m. - Music. These past three days, I've come to realize just how much music affects my life. My typical work day is filled with stress. Constant phone calls. Constant nagging from clients, realtors, and everyone else involved in the home-buying process. The stress was getting to me. I was getting moody in the office. At first, I tried not to make my pissy moods so obvious, but recently, my moods had been getting the best of me. So much so, that one day, my boss actually had to tell me to "lose the mood". Off topic...I wonder how long it'll take her to find this...:-)

So Monday morning rolls along, and I'm alone in the office, as I usually am between 8 a.m. and 9 a.m. Since I recently swapped hard drives in my work computer, it's running on pretty much bear bones. Only the necessary programs are installed. Since it was lacking, I downloaded MusicMatch Jukebox. I remembered that it has a low-quality online radio thingor that's free to use. Since I'm no longer alone in my office, I figured it would be rude of me to listen to my usual repoire of rock, pop, rap, etc. I chose "New Age" in place of those genres. I was blown away. This music...is awesome. It really started to relax me. Then, I switched to Classical. Romantic, Baroque, Medieval, Renaissance, etc. Oh boy. I'm hooked on this music. It keeps me calm. It helps me keep my head on straight. It helps me think clearer. It helps me take things in stride. I never thought music could have such a wonderful effect on me.

My Geocities page is now gone. Hooray. Sure, Geocities has been my "host" since 1998, but still, it can KISS MY ASS. That wretched java popup is FRUSTRATING. I recall when they first implemented that feature. It was easy to remove. Simply removing the inserted code from your html file would do it. After a few days, they'd catch on, and re-insert the shit. Well, the fuckers got smart. They now auto-insert the page before the fucker even loads. So removing the damn code is pointless, as it's simply re-inserted when the page is reloaded.

Yes, I like Good Charlotte's music. I don't give a shit if they're your typical teeny-bopper band. Their music is good. Anyone who denies it is either a) retarded, b)too proud to admit they like it, or c) retarded.

I feel that this entry has gone from coherency to sheer randomness. All in a matter of only 19 minutes.

Coherency? Who am I kidding. So much of what I say is incoherent drivel. No way can I cl...20 minutes...aim coherency.

Holy shit. The new John Mayer album is good. It's better than the first, in my opinion.

Dave Matthews released his first solo album yesterday. I need to downl...errr...buy it soon. Something tells me that it's not going to be as good as all the other albums, save for "Everyday".

I'm going to a wedding this weekend. I don't like weddings. My plan for this weekend is to imbibe a ridiculous amount of alcohol. Perhaps that will make forget I'm at a wedding, and think I'm really at some sort of party. Yeah. Bah, I'll be at a wedding. I'll just have to make the best of it.

Again, let the bodies hit the floor.

I don't have anything else to say.

Driving down the wrong road and knowing it,
The fork years behind, how many have thought
To pull up on the shoulder and leave the car
Empty, strike out across the fields; and how many
Are still mazed among dock and thistle,
Seeking the road they should have taken?

--Damon Knight--

September 24 2003 || 6:53 p.m. - It's mine. It's all mine. Welcome, all, to frawgster.com. :-) I feel like shit, but this little tidbit makes me feel very, very satisfied. :-)

Happiness is always a by-product. It is probably a matter of temperament, and for anything I know it may be glandular. But it is not something that can be demanded from life, and if you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness.

--Robertson Davies--

September 24 2003 || 7:21 a.m. - I'm feeling better emotionally. However, physically, I feel like shit. I think spending last Saturday in the rain made me sick. I'm congested, sniffling, and I have a nagging cough. Blah.

So in a nutshell, this weekend, I drank somewhere between 20 and 25 beers. I bonged 3 beers in 5 minutes. Needless to say, I was a little inebriated. Strangely enough, I didn't wake up with a hangover...well, not a physcial hangover anyway (See two entries below).

frawgster.com is now mine. It'll be a while before this page gets posted there, though. I need to a) figure out what I'm doing, b) transfer the domain from web.com to godaddy.com, and c) figure out what I'm doing. Apparently, godaddy.com offers free IP masking. Very nice. It'll only cost me $7.75 to transfter the domain, and that includes a one year extension, meaning it'll be mine till September 2005. Since Geocities is a bitch, I'm gonna go ahead and have frawgster.com point to my Road Runner page. Don't bother visiting...it's pretty much a clone of this site for now.

Anywho, yeah, that's about all. Carpe diem...

No matter how much I prove and prod,
I cannot quite believe in God;
But oh, I hope to God that He
Unswervingly believes in me.

--E.Y. Harburg--

September 22 2003 || 8:19 a.m. - Had a decent conversation with her last night. Mistakes were made. Mistakes were acknowledged. Mistakes will not repeat themselves. I tried so hard to feel better last night. It didn't happen. It hasn't happen. I know I'm doing the right thing, but often times, the right thing to do is the hardest thing to do.

I'm not ready to get over her just yet. I've been fooling myself into thinking that I am. I'm not. I know that me dwelling on her could cause more heartache, but why should I lie to myself? I can't lose her friendship. I won't lose her friendship. It means way too much to me. Even though I want so much more, I can't continue to do or say things that could jeopardize what we have.

For now, I'm just going to continue to hope that she comes around. If I end up hurting myself more, so be it...

On another note, I promise the next entry will not be so gloomy. I've yet to write about the events of this weekend...

The average pencil is seven inches long, with just a half-inch eraser - in case you thought optimism was dead.

--Robert Brault--

September 21 2003 || 8:41 p.m. - I feel so bad right now. Emotionally, I'm at a real low point. She chose the jerk. What I feel for her, she can't reciprocate. It hurts so much, it goes beyond words.

I pushed her so hard this weekend. At this point, I think I'm done pushing. As much as I care for her...as much as I don't want her to get hurt (and she will), I just can't do it anymore. I can't keep doing this to myself. She knows precisely where I stand, so I'm done pushing. I'm done.

The harder I push her, the harder it becomes for me to cope with my emotions. The harder I push her, the more I realize that I'll never have her. The harder I push her, the more I realize that I'm needlessly spinning my wheels. The harder I push her, the less sense the situation makes.

This weekend was an emotional roller-coaster for me. I went from sheer joy and happiness to complete misery in less than 24 hours. I went from being my usual jovial self yesterday to saying less than 20 words today.

I just don't understand why people are the way they are. I don't understand why people put themselves in situations knowing full well that they will turn out bad. I did it myself yesterday. It becomes especially confusing when the situations involve emotions like love, hate, spite, happiness, etc.

That being said, I just want to re-iterate...I'm done pushing.

September 5, 2003..."I'll have to see what transpires emotion-wise when I see her again. Last time she was down, when I saw her, all my feelings for her rushed back into my heart and head like a race car crossing a finish line. Perhaps this time will be different...or perhaps not. Time will tell." Time has told. This time was not different. This time was harder than the last. Exponentially harder than the last.

Enduring habits I hate.... Yes, at the very bottom of my soul I feel grateful to all my misery and bouts of sickness and everything about me that is imperfect, because this sort of thing leaves me with a hundred backdoors through which I can escape from enduring habits.

--Friedrich Nietzsche--

September 19 2003 || 9:38 a.m. - One hour, 59 minutes later...

Apparently, the pic above is a caffeine molecule, or something. I'm unbelievably wired right now. One Caffe Americano with an extra espresso shot will do that to a person. I had, in one glass, the equivalent of 4 cups of coffee. WHAT THE SHIT IS WRONG WITH ME?! (Brought to you by the redundant department of redundancy.)

Time for breakfast...

Impartial observers from other planets would consider ours an utterly bizarre enclave if it were populated by birds, defined as flying animals, that nevertheless rarely or never actually flew. They would also be perplexed if they encountered in our seas, lakes, rivers, and ponds, creatures defined as swimmers that never did any swimming. But they would be even more surprised to encounter a species defined as a thinking animal if, in fact, the creature very rarely indulged in actual thinking.

--Steve Allen--

September 19 2003 || 7:39 a.m. - Why am I up so early? I have today off, and I'm up at fooking 7:39 a.m. WHAT THE SHIT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

I'm gonna burn some CDs now. Good morning world...

All my life I had been looking for something, and everywhere I turned someone tried to tell me what it was. I accepted their answers too, though they were often in contradiction and even self-contradictory. I was naïve. I was looking for myself and asking everyone except myself questions which I, and only I, could answer. It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: that I am nobody but myself.

--Ralph Ellison--

September 18 2003 || 4:42 p.m. - I take back what I said yesterday about this month not being hectic. Today. Was. Hectic. I mean, damn. Just, damn. But today was different. I didn't let the day get to me like I usually do. I took it all in stride, and I got much more done than normal.

Today was supposed to be the wettest day of the year, according to the local weatherfolk. I'm pretty confident that they were right. It's been raining steadily all day since about 9 a.m. By "steady", I mean less than a downpour, but more than a drizzle.

I'm off to the homestead. More later...

The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you.

--Rita Mae Brown--

September 17 2003 || 10:32 p.m. - Phantom of the Opera...Catalina Island...Disneyland...Las Vegas...Mexico Lindo. It seems as if my trip to California will be good. Very, very good.

Since I spent all day Sunday ALONE at that oh so fabulous home and garden expo, my boss decided to pay me $100 on top of my next paycheck. Thanks, boss. :-)

Unless you're observationally impaired, you probably noticed that I reversed the layout of my page. It's easier to read, and for me, it's much easier to add to. I don't have to scroll through lines and lines of text to update it. Yay me.

Eventually, when I purchase frawgster.com, and get it up and running, I plan to have a list of entries, each linked to its own page.

Does anyone really care about this techincal shit? I didn't think so. :-)

Life is pretty serene right now. Nothing really earth-shattering has been happening. It's been business as usual at work. It's been business as usual outside of work. Life has been...boring. Boring in a good way. Sometimes, monotony is a good thing. I think September has been uneventful because August was so damn hectic.

My workplace is growing...fast. This week, an insurance agent and his assistant moved in. Next week, another loan officer is moving in. An ex-loan officer has come back. Our office is lacking room...severely.

I apologize for the boring entry, but like I said, life is boring right now. :-) Hopefully I'll have something a little more exicting to say tomorrow.

If you're bored, you may wanna read this. It's pretty funny. :-)

The difference between perseverance and obstinacy is that one comes from a strong will, and the other from a strong won't.

--Henry Ward Beecher--

September 16 2003 || 8:38 p.m. - Today is Tuesday. Tuesday is today. Tomorrow is Wednesday. Wednesday is tomorrow.

Does anyone out there know where I put my copy of Windows 2000 Professional? I don't need it, but I'd still like to know where it is.

As of now, only one visitor has fessed up. The tracker I signed up for doesn't seem to be working properly. Apparently, the top 10 referrers are all "Unknown". I fear I am destined to stay in the dark about those visiting my fine page.

Four minutes wasted. Back to work.

It is known that there is an infinite number of worlds, but that not every one is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so if every planet in the Universe has a population of zero then the entire population of the Universe must also be zero, and any people you may actually meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.

--Douglas Adams--

September 15 2003 || 8:27 p.m. - Alright. Fess up folks. Who's been lurking here? 18 hits Saturday, 15 hits Sunday. 26 hits today (so far). All unique. Geocities' tracker sucks, so I can't figure out where everyone is coming from. Now I'm asking you, my loyal fans, WHO ARE YOU!?!? Heh.

I was commended for my dedication this weekend. I spent 18 hours total at that God-forsaken home expo. That one thank you I got was enough to negate all the frustration I felt. Amazing how much difference two words can make.

Let the bodies hit the floor. Yay.

Once again, my "getting over her" has accelerated. Yesterday, when I got home from the hell that was the expo, I realized that she hadn't crossed my mind _once_ during the day. That, despite the fact that I was ridculously bored all day long.

Once I purchase frawgster.com, I'll likely be moving the site. A friend has offered to host my site on his server space. Thanks Mark. :-) I wouldn't be mentioning this if 2 or 3 people were visiting this site dailiy, but seeing how my traffic has strangely increased, I figured I'd throw it in.

Yes, this entry was dull, but alas, 'twas a dull day. :-)

The human race has had long experience and a fine tradition in surviving adversity. But we now face a task for which we have little experience, the task of surviving prosperity.

--Alan Gregg--

September 14 2003 || 9:57 p.m. - Seven hours. Seven hours at a home expo. Alone. Sitting. Alone. Bored. Seven hours. I'm taking Friday off. ALONE. Yes, a pseudo-co-worker was "there", but 75% of the time, he was out walking around pimping insurance to the expo visitors. Seven hours sitting in a booth. Crap.

I'm going to Laredo this coming weekend. The planned bachelor party might not happen, so I may just end up in a drunken stupor again. Hopefully I'll remember shit this time...shit like taking 10 minutes to put on my shoes...blowing kisses at security guards...and giving the finger to all the passers-by in the parking lot as we left the club. Yes, I did all those things last weekend.

Tomorrow is the middle of the month. Where does time go? I mean, the months are flying by. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!.

I met a real cutie at the expo today. Unfortunately, she works for one of our competitors. As I passed by her booth, she asked me "Are you interested in purchasing or refinancing a home?" I said, "Actually, I work for Confianza Mortgage." She smiled and introduced herself. I, of course, did the same. In retrospect, I think I should have said, "Actually, I work for Confianza...but no, I'm not interested in purchasing or refinancing a home. I am, however, interested in you." Of course, I didn't say that, and me being me, I probably wouldn't ever say that.

Yesterday, I got 18 hits on this page...33 on my index page. Someone I know posted a link to this page at dslreports.com. The hits yesterday were from there, the hits today are from somewhere else. It's very, very strange.

I'm thinking about purchasing my own domain name. Just because I can. I found that frawgster.com isn't taken by anyone. Perhaps I'll purchase it. Perhaps not. Only time will till. That was bad.

The fallacious correlation between professionalism and attire is often times nothing more than a mask for ineptitude.

--O.J. Garza--

September 14 2003 || 2:08 a.m. -I couldn't sleep, so I called. I feel better. Much better. The poem below speaks such volumes, I'm in total disbelief.

There's one sad truth in life I've found
While journeying east and west -
The only folks we really wound
Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know,
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full many a thoughtless blow
To those who love us best.

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox--

September 14 2003 || 1:28 a.m. - I'm tired of being right.

I'm tired of being ignored.

I'm tired of giving advice.

I wonder why I even bother opening my mouth at all.

Mistrust in a significant other is the first precedent for infidelity and heartbreak.

--O.J. Garza--

September 13 2003 || 8:13 a.m. - What the fuck is it with me and cars? My car is in the shop till Monday getting a new seat installed. The driver's seatback broke right the hell off. The rental I'm driving; a shitty Focus, has a nail in one of its front tires. I have no idea when it got there, but now I'm scared to drive it further than 12 feet. The last thing I need is to have a blowout on the freeway doing 90.

The shirt I'm wearing is bothering the shit out of me. It's all twisted up and shit.

I'm bored, and I can't go anywhere.

There's absolutely nothing on TV.

My DVD player is broken, so I can't watch movies. I take consolation in the fact that I bought an extended warranty with the motherfucker. At least I won't have to pay Radio Shack to fix the shit.

I'm so fucking bored, I'm seriously considering doing laundry. I usually have to force myself to do laundry. Now, I'm thinking about doing it just to pass the time.

I went over to a liqour store a little bit ago. Thankfully, it's only a few blocks from my house, so I was able to drive there without fear. I got carded. I'm 25 and apparently, I look 20 or younger. I don't know whether to be upset or content.

This song is pissing me off. **Changes song**

I have 6127 songs to choose from, and at times, I just CAN'T find a song I want to listen to. Here I thought having 100+ channels and nothing to watch was bad.

If any of the 3 people reading this know where I can buy a Shetland Sheepdog in Corpus Christi, please e-mail me. I really want one, and I can't seem to find one in the area.

The ad on the top of this Geocities page I'm typing on is really annoying the shit out of me.

I've managed to kill a whopping 11 minutes typing this crap.

Time for my first beer. Cheers, world.

15 minutes.

I'm sick of one hit wonders.

Why is it that people want things done on their terms, based on their own personal time frame? Why can't people seem to take the terms and time frames of others into account when asking for something? After saying that, I feel it is necessary to indemnify myself of any potential chastizing remarks from the masses by saying that I too want things done on my terms, and in my time frame. But why? Who knows.

Masses. Who am I kidding. If this page gets more than 5 hits a day, I do Balki's dance of joy. (Balki?)

Why is it that one song by Evanescence sounds like Enya, while another sounds like Ratt? MAKE UP YOUR BITCH ASS MIND! Oh, I just found out why. It seems the band if from Arkansas. Go fucking figure.

Finally, a song worth singing. "Tragos Amargos" by Ramon Ayala.

OK, Next song.

Sweet. A very rare version of "Ants Marching" by The Dave Matthews Band.

I have nothing else to say.

Ennui has made more gamblers than avarice, more drunkards than thirst, and perhaps as many suicides as despair.

--C.C. Colton--

September 12 2003 || 10:15 a.m. - Oh, what a day. I bought some shaving cream from Mary Kay. Does that make me gay? Who's to say? I just made a rhyme. Yay. Hmmm...my story has gone astray. Like a seagull far from the bay. Or a cow, lost, searching for some hay.

I went for a drive this evening. I saw two old people in a Dodge Intrepid groping each other on the road. Assclowns. I also saw a guy in a Boxster with a vanity plate that said "PORCHA". Anyone who pronounces Porsche like porch is either a) retarded, b) fucked in the head, or c) retarded.

I'm completely wired on caffeine right now. I gotta go do something.

The first man who, having enclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself of saying This is mine, and found people simple enough to believe him, was the real founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars and murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not anyone have saved mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch, and crying to his fellows, "Beware of listening to this impostor; you are undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth itself to nobody.

--Jean Jacques Rousseau--

September 12 2003 || 8:25 a.m. - Simon, in his VANITY, has started a personal homepage. Yes, he is indeed a bitch. But alas...I WILL NOT BE OUTDONE! Granted, his HTML skills are superior to mine, I WILL OUTDO HIM WITH SHEER CONTENT! (Probably not). Enough ranting. HAPPY FUCKING FRIDAY! Yes, Friday, that beautiful, wonderous day. Friday's are days filled with fun, excitement, and invigoration. Do you smell that? No, that's not the shit embedded between the grooves in the soles of your shoes, THAT'S FRIDAY!

One of my bosses, in his uber-computer-l33tness, discovered the wretchedness that is my "blog" yesterday. 'twas just a matter of time :-) Alas, my page is slowly beginning to merge the two mes. Soon, the online me that spouts out randomness and the real world me that frivilously tries to impress upon people the greatness of his ways, will merge, forming one, random and trivial being, with no real purpose but to aggravate and discombobulate the masses!

Whew, that really took a lot out of me. Enough for now. I must begin my day of labor...

Alice came to a fork in the road. "Which road do I take?" she asked.
"Where do you want to go?" responded the Cheshire cat.
"I don't know," Alice answered.
"Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter."

--Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland--

September 11 2003 || 8:49 a.m. - It feels like it happened just yesterday...

If you suppress grief too much, it can well redouble.

--Moliere--

September 8 2003 || 11:47 p.m. - I don't know. I just don't know. One part of me is being yanked in one direction; another part of me is being pulled in a completely different direction. Why must emotions be so difficult to deal with? Why can't I just want to feel one way, then immediately feel that way? Why in the hell do thoughts have to get involved with emotions? Why?

In case you hadn't notice, I'm feeling a little frustrated tonight. The thing is, I'm not frustrated with any particular person, rather, I'm frustrated because life is as it is.

I'm not gonna sit here and whine about how hard life is, cause frankly, I know I'm much better off than a lot of people. I'm just perturbed because I'm unable to separate thoughts and emotions. If you really sit back and think about it, life would be a lot easier if emotions and thoughts didn't get involved with one another. No? I mean, imagine if feeling certain emotions didn't lead to thinking certain thoughts. Imagine if feeling heartache didn't lead to thinking sad thoughts...if feeling, say, pain, didn't lead to thinking about crying and such.

Life would be easier. On the flip side, life would be rather...boring...no?

Enough with the funky font shit. "Regulators", by Warren G is on, so I'm feeling a little better now. It's been exactly 16 minutes since I started typing the above pseudo-diatribe (OK, maybe it wasn't exactly a diatribe, but it's late, and I frankly can't think of a better word...so fuck it.), and I'm feeling better already. In good time, I'll point her to this page. I wonder how she'll react? I mean, I sit here, and I drain my emotions out on this webpage. Pathetic? Perhaps. I like to think of it as "geeky".

In my defense, I'm more able to express my emotions in writing than in any other way. When I try to vent my emotions verbally, I have a tendency to say things I shouldn't say. I also have a tendency to say things improperly, which often leads to people not understanding what it is I'm trying to say. When I write, it's more deliberate...more succinct. I can edit what I write before actually making it available to read. With spoken words, once something is said, it's said. There's no turning back. If that something is misconstrued, there's little chance of redemption.

That's about all for tonight. Well look what I found, a very, very fitting quote today. Something tells me that tomorrow is going to be a good day. A good day indeed...

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.

--Cyril Connolly--

September 5 2003 || 9:58 p.m. - It's been a little over 4 weeks...4 weeks since I had a piece of bread. 4 weeks since I had rice. 4 weeks since I had potatoes in any form. 4 weeks since I had any type of sweet stuff. 4 weeks since I had pasta. Truth be told; I don't miss any of those things one bit. Nope. I've managed to adjust, mentally and physically, to living life with little carbohydrates. Has it paid off? Hells yeah. In one or two weeks, I'll have dropped 2 inches from my waist. I'm visibly skinnier. I feel healthier. I have more energy. I'm more motivated to do things. I feel better, all around. I didn't think I'd be able to actually stick to this diet. The first two weeks were absolute hell. Cutting carbs was almost as hard as quitting smoking.

I find myself quickly getting over her. The process of getting over her seems to have accelerated significantly. A small part of me doesn't want to get over her. A small part of me wants to long for her, to pine for her. A very small part. The remainder of me wants to move on, with her as just a friend. It's happening quickly now. For no real reason, really. On a scale of 1-10, last week my rate of moving on was at about a 3. This week, it's at about a 9. I think, in the future, things are going to be great between us. Something in my heart tells me that this friendship I've found will live on for a long, long time. Though I'm getting over her, I'm still anxious to see her again. In two weeks time, I'll get to see her again. I'll have to see what transpires emotion-wise when I see her again. Last time she was down, when I saw her, all my feelings for her rushed back into my heart and head like a race car crossing a finish line. Perhaps this time will be different...or perhaps not. Time will tell.

I was called "unprofessional" by an escrow agent who works for a title company in Austin. This, from a woman who, when I last worked with her, blatantly lied to a realtor I was working with. This escrow agent told me something, then flat out denied saying it to me when the realtor asked about it. She had the nerve to label me "unprofessional". Touche, you fucking bitch. Tou-fucking-che.

I hate mankind, for I think myself one of the best of them, and I know how bad I am.

--Joseph Baretti--

September 2 2003 || 9:37 p.m. - Labor Day weekend was alright, I guess. Rather monotonous, but oh well. I went over to Edinburg/McAllen (Where I used to live) Saturday and Sunday. The second I drove in, I felt an unrelenting urge to drive back to Corpus. I don't feel like I belong there anymore. I don't feel right there anymore. I mean, I don't give a shit, cause I have no desire to go back to that place, but still, never did I think I'd feel "out of place" there. Very, very odd.

I got to visit with some good friends, which was nice. I forked over 100 bucks on some new sunglasses, which wasn't too nice. I got to see a boatload of my family members, which was very nice.

So yesterday, I'm at Wal-Mart, buying various necessities (Beer, beef, pork, and a host of other fatty foods), and I see this van in the parking lot, cruising along at about 2 miles per hour. On the door of this van is a large white poster board with the following phrase:

Now, I'm not sure if everyone out there reading this (All 2 people) knows what CPS is, so allow me to explain. CPS stands for Child Protective Services. Basically, they take kids away from bad parents with the hopes of finding them good parents. Clearly, if CPS had these folks' kids, they're bad parents. Placing a sign on a 1971 rusted up Chevrolet van seems like a pretty futile thing to do. Not only is it futile, but for fuck's sake, it's downright embarassing. I mean, these folks are clearly bad parents, and they're clearly not ashamed to admit so. If you ask me, that sign serves as nothing more than further justification for CPS taking those children away. How stupid can someone be? God forbid these parents pass their stupidity on to their children. Sheesh.

I'm set to have a very eventful next few months. October 31, I'm flying to L.A. I'll be out there till September 8. Paid $251 this morning for a round-trip ticket. The first week of February, I'll be flying to Hawaii with my parents. This trip, thankfully, comes for free (compliments of the 'rents). $251, I can afford (barely)...$600+, no way. While in L.A. (Burbank, to be more specific) I'll be spending most of the week with my now ex-girlfriend, save for a couple of days when I plan to crash Simon's bachelor pad in Riverside (Watch out, asslip). The funny thing is, I haven't even bothered to ask this fool if staying with him for a couple of days would be alright. Chances are, he's finding out while reading this. Do I care? Fuck no. I'm staying there whether he god-damned likes it or not.

Oh, and to Lou...I got your message, assboy. Yes, I realize that this quasi-blog of mine was getting boring, but damn't I was on vacation! :-) This update, I'm doing FOR YOU! (Not really) Umm...yeah...EAT IT LOU!

The quote I'm thowing in today is for all my female friends out there. Specifically for those with whom I've argued about making stupid decisions about stupid men. Read it. Listen to it. Live it.

That is all.

Once a woman has forgiven her man, she must not reheat his sins for breakfast.

--Marlene Dietrich--

August 28 2003 || 9:37 p.m. - Labor Day is Monday. Yay.

Alt+0160 can eat my ass.

No, I don't feel like writing today either.

One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important.

--Bertrand Russell--

August 27 2003 || 7:53 p.m. - I don't feel like writing today.

When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading.

--Henny Youngman--

August 26 2003 || 10:40 p.m. - This song will be played at my funeral. This, I vow.

Most do not fully see this truth that life is difficult. Instead they moan more or less incessantly, noisily or subtly, about the enormity of their problems, their burdens, and their difficulties as if life were generally easy, as if life should be easy. They voice their belief, noisily or subtly, that their difficulties represent a unique kind of affliction that should not be and that has somehow been especially visited upon them, or else upon their families, their tribe, their class, their nation, their race or even their species, and not upon others.

--Dr. M. Scott Peck--

August 26 2003 || 10:29 p.m. - What's that you say? A free trip to Hawaii...would I be interested? Why yes ma'am, I would. That's right. Come February, The Frawg is going to Hawaii for a week. My pappy has some conference/meeting over in Hawaii, so of course my mother and I will be tagging along. The room and my dad's plane ticket are being paid for by the Starr County Soil and Water Conservation organization (Don't know if that's the exact name, but it's similar). My folks will be covering the plane tickets for yours truly and my mother. Yay me.

I'm feeling conflicted tonight. Really conflicted. One part of me is worried, and really perturbed; while another part of me really doesn't give a shit. WHY AM I FEELING THIS WAY! Who the fuck knows. I just wish I would make up my damn mind. To care, or not to care, that is the question. Yeah.

On another note, she who makes me feel like fainting has not been by the office yet. It's a damn shame. WHY MUST I BE TORMENTED BY HER BEAUTY!

A good friend can tell you what is the matter with you in a minute. He may not seem such a good friend after telling.

--Arthur Brisbane--

August 26 2003 || 4:04 a.m. - I'm so full of energy today, it isn't even funny.

ERROR 404

Get used to doing the wrong thing, and pretty soon, doing the right thing will no longer make sense

--O.J. Garza--

August 25 2003 || 1:32 a.m. - The weekend was good. I spent it with the 'rents. They spoiled me as usual. Nothing really worth mentioning happened, but yeah. It was a good weekend none-the-less.

I'm thinking I need to make a change. A big change. A huge change. I don't know yet, though. These thoughts just entered my silly little head a few days ago. I shall keep you, Mr. Quasi Blog, updated.

Today has been a good day. A decent day. I have a feeling it's not going to end on such a good note, though. Why? Well, frankly, that's just my damn luck.

In case you weren't aware, I'm always broke. My mortgage kills me. My bills kill me. I spend too much. Here's the dilemma: I want to take a trip to California for a week in late October or early November. So I sat down Saturday night and devised a budget till the end of the year. If I stick to what I wrote down on paper, I can go from having $77.57 disposable (money to waste on whatever) in my bank account, to having about $993.45 disposable. Yes, I budgeted to the penny. That should be more than enough for a trip to Cali, especially considering the fact that room and board will be free. Also, if I adhere to this budget as I've been adhering to my diet, I'll have successfully eliminated two monthly payments totaling about $120.00 by about mid-February. Once eliminated, I can start using the extra $120.00 to eliminate another, pesky $700.00 debt, by next August if all works out. So in one year's time, I'll be paying an electric bill, a phone bill, two CC bills, a car insurance bill, a cable bill, and that's it. Last month, I came to the conclusion that these little pesky debts are killing me. Every month, I pay out the large bills...mortgage, power, cell phone, cable...usually all over $100.00 each, and all very necessary. Then come the small bills...the furniture payment to an account with a $400.00 balance, the payment to Dell on the computer I no longer own, the payment to Radio Shack on the card I've not used in about a year. They're just not necessary. They must be purged, and purged quickly.

Change has a considerable psychological impact on the human mind. To the fearful it is threatening because it means that things may get worse. To the hopeful it is encouraging because things may get better. To the confident it is inspiring because the challenge exists to make things better.

--King Whitney Jr.--

August 22 2003 || 9:23 a.m. - I downloaded and burned a telesynced copy of Freddy vs. Jason last night. I started watching it. For a telesync, the video is excellent. Probably the best telesync I've ever seen. The audio is decent. The first 2-3 minutes are filled with hissing sounds (Probably due to a bad audio wire from the camera to the output source), but after that, it's quite clear. For those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, you can visit vcdqualty.com to get more info. Ignore the, ahem, legal issues for now. :)

My folks are visiting this weekend. Good news, since I'm completely broke. I don't usually have to pay for squat when they visit (I'm such a leech!).

She still hasn't come by this week. The one who makes me feel like fainting. I know it sounds bad, but frankly, she is my goal. I don't mean that in a physical or sexual way, I just mean that she is my goal. In good time, I will accelerate my efforts. :)

Here's hoping for a good today...

Not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious.

--Brendan Gill--

August 21 2003 || 8:28 p.m. - Another long day. I'm exhausted. I don't know if I can handle tomorrow...seriously. I've learned something this week. The mortgage industry...as a whole...mortgage brokers, lenders, realtors, appraisers, escrow officers; the whole fucking industry is about one thing, and one thing only...who's to blame. I mean, if I tell a realtor or client "We're not closing today." they reply with "Why not?", which, in real estate, means, "Who fucked up...so I can bitch at them."

Seriously. I'm getting tired of it. I'm getting tired of the finger pointing. I'm tired of it, cause rather than seek a solution, or help with a problem, people in real estate are content simply pointing fingers and saying "that's not MY job."

Aside from that, yeah. The diet's going well. I feel lighter/thinner. I've been told that I'm losing weight. I'm down to between 20 and 50 grams of carbs per day. Not bad, considering I used to eat more than 10 times that much. On top of that, my appetite seems to be curbing somewhat. Rather than listening to my stomach growl when 12 noon comes along, I really don't get hungry till about 5 p.m. It's odd. Odd and refreshing. :-)

A university is what a college becomes when the faculty loses interest in students.

--John Ciardi--

August 19 2003 || 9:49 p.m. - I love dieting. A greasy hamburger patty topped with cheese, a ham steak, a huge piece of sausage, and a spinach salad with bleu cheese dressing...this is too easy.

The Crystal Method's music is just plain...sexy.

I'm feeling especially bitter today. For no reason at all, mind you.

Ah yes, Good Riddance, by Green Day. A fine song. Reminds me of the final episode of Seinfeld. ((sniff, sniff))

Today, was a long day. A hard day. But, it was a FUN-FILLED DAY! That was a lie...the fun-filled part. Unfortunately, the girl who's so beautiful, I feel like fainting every time I see her, was not at the luncheon. Alas, such is life. Perhaps she'll stop by the office soon. Perhaps not. Only time shall tell. (I tend to think that she will...just because)

Did I mention that dieting is fun? Probably so.

Johnny Lee. I hope he eventually stopped looking for love in the wrong places.

Before I left the office today (at 7:30), I drank 3 beers. Yes, in the office. Thanks Al, I needed them after today.

Fuck it, I'm out.

Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped.

--Elbert Hubbard--

August 19 2003 || 9:49 p.m. - I seriously need a vacation. I'm growing more and more frustrated at work every day. If I don't do something soon, I'm going to explode.

The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it.

--George Bernard Shaw--

August 18 2003 || 1:58 p.m. - You ever wake up and just know that a long day lies ahead? I woke up with that thought in my head, and boy was I right. Fuck today. Fuck it in its stupid ass.

On another note, and work aside, I'm still angry. I know, I know; I shouldn't dwell on this anger, but what can I say...I'm human. Oh well, my quote from two entries above still stands. Fuck it.

The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.

--Thomas Szasz--

August 17 2003 || 7:37 p.m. - I find this song's lyrics so beautiful. It's a shame that at this point in my life, they mean absolutely nothing to me.

I am still determined to be cheerful and happy, in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances.

--Martha Washington--

August 17 2003 || 4:40 p.m. - I have to say, The Wallflower's rendition of Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic" is excellent. Almost better than the original.

That's about all.

Fuck it.

--O.J. Garza--

August 16 2003 || 6:20 p.m. - UPDATE August 26, 2003, 10:49 p.m. Yeah. This entry has been deleted cause, as usual, I overreacted. Yay me. Please scroll down.

Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change.

--Malcolm X--

August 15 2003 || 9:26 a.m. - Since last night, I've had this wretched song in my head. "El Otro Lado Del Porton", by Ramon Ayala, has been playing in my head over and over. IT'S MAKING ME MAD!

My hard drive at work is making a grinding noise again. I'm almost certain that it's ready to give out. Speaking of hard drives, I installed another (a third) hard drive in my home puter. My root drive has about 8 gigs free, but I reserve that for emergencies/contingencies. My F: drive (backup drive) has about 34 megabytes left on it. Given that, I had to buy another drive (Isn't P2P fun?). Since both ide channels on my mobo were filled, I had to buy an IDE controller to go with my new 80 gig drive. Fun times, installing a new controller and HD. I'd never done it before. It proved to be interesting. Not difficult, but interesting.

Two weeks ago, I called up Dell to ask if my power supply would be able to accomodate a third hard drive and separate controller. The tech support fellow said "Why a separate controller? Just pull out the old backup drive, put the new one in, make sure the jumpers are set to 'cable select', fire up your machine, and you're ready to go. Why do you need 140 gigs of space anyway?" To which I replied "Cause, sir, the 60 gigs I have is essentially filled." To which he replied "What can possibly take up that much space?" At that point, I hung up. Not only was he prying into my personal matters, he actually had the gall to suggest I set my jumpers to cable select. Stupid tech fool.

For starters, cable select requires a certain type of IDE cable. He had no clue what type of drive I was wanting to install, nor the type of cable I was going to use. He assumed that I was installing a Western Digital hard drive with the included cable that supports cable select. His assumption was right, but it was a stupid assumption none-the-less. On top of that...cable select. Why on earth would I set my drive to cable select when I could just set it as master or slave? Why should I allow my computer to decide which is master and which is slave? That's for me to decide, not Dell. Also, setting my second drive to cable select would require me to set my root drive to cable select (Not require, but things could potentially run amok if I wouldn't do that). When I got my computer, the first thing I did was change the HD's jumpers from cable select to master. Stupid tech.

ALSO, if I have a new controller, and want to connect a stand-alone third drive to it, that's a GOOD thing. Aside from occupying a precious PCI slot, it's a GREAT thing. This stand-alone drive is faster than my other two drives.

So now I have a C drive, and F drive, a G drive, an H drive and an I drive (80 gigs, three partitions). Why three partitions? Cause I can. :-)

You despise books; you whose lives are absorbed in the vanities of ambition, the pursuit of pleasure or indolence; but remember that all the known world, excepting only savage nations, is governed by books.

--Voltaire--

August 14 2003 || 11:15 p.m. - Why do I insist on pouring my heart out onto a webpage?

Why do I insist on pouring my heart out onto a webpage?

--O.J. Garza--

August 14 2003 || 10:20 p.m. - It's happened again. Damn't. It's been so long, I was hoping it wouldn't happen anymore. It's been 2 or 3 years. I didn't think that she and I deciding we'd be best off as "friends" would affect me. Well, actually this probably has nothing to do with my situation with her. Perhaps this is happening just because it's been so long. Who knows.

I hate feeling so vulnerable. I hate feeling so lost. I hate feeling that I need someone else in my life to be truly happy...truly fulfilled. I'm so selfish sometimes, I know, but at least I'm willing to admit it.

Normally, I feel pretty full, pretty content, pretty satisfied. Today, and for the last few days, I've felt almost empty (No, it's not cause I'm dieting). I've felt incomplete. I hate it. I loathe it. I feel nothing but contempt towards these feelings of emptiness.

Strangely, I'm willing to bet that even if I did have someone in my life; a significant other, if you will, I'd probably still feel empty. Ironic, no? I suppose that's the pessimist in me coming out to play...maybe even the narcissist.

I'm not a picky person. I'm really not. I'm more than willing to take what I can get. However, when it comes to the fairer sex, I must say, I'm so picky, it's disgusting. I'm fairly certain that I've met no more than 4 females in my life who I'd consider "adequate" when judged by my personal standards. Sometimes I think I should lower my standards. Then I slap the shit out of myself for doing so. I'll eat week old pizza if need be. I'll drive around in a car with 3 spare tires, no a/c, and no radio. I'll wear old, torn, dirty clothes. But I will not, repeat not, _EVER_ lower my standards when it comes to women. I know that if I lowered my standards, this feeling of emptiness, of impotence, of powerlessness, would not emerge as often as it does. But still, it's not worth me lowering my standards. It's not worth me settling for 2nd best. No. Never.

So what can I do? Nothing. Keep searching. Keep looking. Keep on keeping on. All I can do is what I've been doing for years now...keep my chin up and smile. One day, someday, I'll find her. Someday, I'll find the one who makes my heart race and slow at the same time. Someday I'll find the one who knows how to love and who, more importantly, knows how to be loved.

This above all: to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day; Thou canst not then be false to any man.

--Lucille S. Harper--

August 11, 2003 || 9:24 p.m. - Hello world.

The nice thing about egotists is that they don't talk about other people.

--Lucille S. Harper--

August 8, 2003 || 1:08 p.m. - I almost fainted earlier. True story.

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.

--Erma Bombeck--

August 8, 2003 || 10:26 a.m. - MOTHER NATURE IS MY SLUT! BENT OVER AND READY TO GO! I'm just joking! :-) What can I say...when I'm in a good mood, I tend to make rash comments. I WANT TO SEE YOU, BURBANK! Fuck. I think I need a vacation. Or a cookie. Or a prostitute. Or something.

I changed the color of my page. Randomness truely is a spice of life.

This week (Sunday night - last night), I've slept better than I have in a long time. I AM AN ENERGY MACHINE! On top of that, I've started dieting. CALL ME MR. DIET! I'm kind of starting an Atkinsesque type diet. I'm not going through all the steps and shit involved with the actual Atkin's diet. I'm simply cutting back on my carbohydrate intake. I started doing this Monday morning, and ever since, I've had better days. I'm full of energy during the day. As a result, I'm more productive and alert at work. When I wake up in the morning, I'm no longer groggy. I jump out of my bed and start my day. I even feel less irritable and more sociable. Strange, but true.

See August 5th entry. That entry was in regards to a certain file I've been working on for the past 3 months. It's gone through numerous lenders, 3 properties, and a partridge in a pear tree. Last week, the file was submitted, by me, to a lender who, in the beginning, was out of the question. A lender, who, in the beginning, I knew would be easy as hell to work with. I understand why the powers that be refused to go with this lender at the beginning, but oh well. Anyhow, I submitted the file 8 days ago, and this morning, it's closing. 8 day turnaround with this lender is actually quite amazing. To add icing to the cake, not only is our borrower is going to the table with $0.00...the bottom line of the settlement statement has our borrower (the buyer) walking away from the closing table with almost $300.00! How many times do you see that? A buyer getting paid to purchase a home?

That is all. For now. CARPE MERDE!

In it he proves that all things are true and states how the truths of all contradictions may be reconciled physically, such as for example that white is black and black is white; that one can be and not be at the same time; that there can be hills without valleys; that nothingness is something and that everything, which is, is not. But take note that he proves all these unheard-of paradoxes without any fallacious or sophistical reasoning.

--Savinien Cyrano De Bergerac--

August 5, 2003 || 1:22 a.m. - Have you ever had something to do; and that something can be done a number of ways, say, 13 different ways? What does one logically do first? Contemplate which route would be easiest, which route is a last resort, and which route(s) fall between.

Time passes by, and eventually, you've tried all of the first 12 routes, only to fail each time. You reluctantly embark on the 13th route, and what happens? You end up doing what you wanted to do all along, and surprisingly, it seems so much easier than you originally thought it would be. Undoubtedly, you think to yourself "Well, why didn't I do this in the first place!" The answer, my friends, is simple. The first 12 times, whatever it was you were trying to do got fucked up along the way. What then? Well, you learned from your mistakes. By the time you arrived at your last option, you had learned so much from the previous 12 options, that getting through the situation is a breeze.

Learn from your mistakes, people. Otherwise, you're doomed to repeat them.

A real friend is someone who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.

--Proverb--

August 4, 2003 || 10:09 p.m. - This day in history. w00t.

1735 - Freedom of the press was established with an acquittal of John Peter Zenger. The writer of the New York Weekly Journal had been charged with seditious libel by the royal governor of New York. The jury said that "the truth is not libelous."
1830 - The city of Chicago had its plans laid out.
1914 - Britain declared war on Germany in World War I. The U.S. proclaimed its neutrality.
1922 - The death of Alexander Graham Bell, two days earlier, was recognized by AT&T and the Bell Systems by shutting down all of its switchboards and switching stations. The shutdown effected 13 million phones.
1944 - Nazi police raided a house in Amsterdam and arrested eight people. Anne Frank, a teenager at the time, was one of the people arrested. Her diary would be published after her death.
1958 - Billboard Magazine introduced its "Hot 100" record chart, which was part popularity and a barometer of the movement of potential hits. The first number one song was Ricky Nelson's "Poor Little Fool."
1966 - A ban of the broadcast of any and all Beatles records on most U.S. radio stations went into effect. The ban was in response to John Lennon stating that the band was now more popular than Jesus Christ.

Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake whole relationships.

--Sharon Stone--

August 4, 2003 || 11:13 a.m. - ROAD TRIP! Well, not really. I did, however, put upwards of 800 miles on my car this weekend. w00t. Saturday, I drove from Corpus Christi to Zapata, then from Zapata to San Antonio. Sunday, from San Antonio to Corpus Christi. That in addition to the seemingly endless amount of "driving around" I did in San Antonio amounted to just over 800 miles. I did a favor for a friend. I drove her to S.A. Saturday night. Her flight to California was scheduled to leave early Saturday morning.

Had one of the best steaks I've ever had Saturday night. It was so good, I almost cried. Literally. Spent the day Sunday moping around the hotel. Had lunch with my best friend and her bf. I had planned to purchase sunglasses this weekend, but for those of you not privy to Texas' goings on, this weekend was the tax free weekend. Basically, as per the State of Texas, merchants who sell certain items (clothing, school supplies, etc.) are not allowed to charge sales tax on said items. What does that mean? Simply put: chaos. People go nuts over 8.25% savings. Stupid.

So yeah, that was my weekend...in a nutshell. Adieu.

Ooh but I still smell her. Women. What could you say? Who made 'em? God must've been a fucking genius. Hair. They that hair's everything you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls and just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips. And when they touched yours were like that first swallow of wine after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-hah! Big ones, little ones. Nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns, or second-hand Steinways, but what's between them .... passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing. Pussy. Hah! Are you listenin' to me son? I'm givin' ya pearls here.

--Al Pacino (Lt. Col. Frank Slade) in "Scent of a Woman"--

August 1, 2003 || 10:35 a.m. - Happy mother-fucking August! Food for thought...

ARGUMENT FROM BLINDNESS
(1) God is love.
(2) Love is blind.
(3) Ray Charles is blind.
(4) Therefore, Ray Charles is God.
(5) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM FALLIBILITY
(1) Human reasoning is inherently flawed.
(2) Therefore, there is no reasonable way to challenge a proposition.
(3) I propose that God exists.
(4) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM MANIFESTATIONS
(1) If you turn your head sideways and squint a little, you can see an image of a bearded face in that tortilla.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM PAROCHIALISM
(1) God is everywhere.
(2) We haven't been everywhere to prove he's not there.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM INSECURITY
(1) We have gone to absolutely berserk lengths to establish that atheists are laughable morons.
(1.5) Actually, we did so in the hopes of curing our own insecurities about theism -- but there's no chance in hell we'll ever admit that.
(2) Therefore, atheists are laughable morons.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM UNIQUE EXISTENCE
(1) God exists but not in a way that anything else that exists exists.
(2) Since there are no other things that exist as God exists, we are free to make up things about God's state of existence that ensure his continued non-observability
(3) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM UNTRANSLATED OLD FRENCH
(1) « Mais pourceque j'avois déjà connu en moi très clairement que la nature intelligente est distincte de la corporelle; considérant que toute composition témoigne de la dépendance, et que la dépendance est manifestement un défaut, je jugeois de là que ce ne pouvoit être une perfection en Dieu d'être composé de ces deux natures, et que par conséquent il ne l'étoit pas; mais que s'il y avoit quelques corps dans le monde, ou bien quelques intelligences ou autres natures qui ne fussent point toutes parfaites, leur être devoit dépendre de sa puissance, en telle sorte quelles ne pouvoient subsister sans lui un seul moment. » -- René Descartes, Discours de la Méthode
(2) How could you possibly refute that?
(3) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM ASSUMPTION
(1) Therefore, God exists.

You can find hundreds more like this here

Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there - on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors, so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.

Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."

--Carl Sagan--

July 31, 2003 || 12:42 p.m. - Take a piece of shit. Throw it at a ceiling fan. Hear that sound? That's what I heard just an hour ago. Luckily, everything is fine now. But that sound...that sound can be very, very sobering.

No more fiendish punishment could be devised, were such a thing physically possible, than that one should be turned loose in society and remain absolutely unnoticed by all the members thereof.

--William James--

July 31, 2003 || 8:16 a.m. - I'm actually caught up with my sleep. Unbelievable. Sunday, 3.5 hours...Monday, 4 hours...Tuesday, 7 hours...Wednesday, about 12 hours. That's right, 12 hours last night. 12 hours of sweet, blissful sleep. That I can remember, I had 6 dreams. This coming weekend is still up in the air. It's either San Antonio for the day, maybe two, or Saturday night fishing at a house smack dab in the middle of an arroyo. My dad's friend offered it to us for the weekend. Either way, it should be a kick ass weekend.

I sense that my co-workers may be getting tired of the CD I've been listening to for the past few weeks. Perhaps the fact that one second I'm listening to Snoop Dogg, the next to Nickel Creek, and the next to Toto has something to do with it. Who knows...

Here lately, I've seriously been considering buying a Shetland Sheepdog. I had one when I was a kid, and the more I think about it, the more I realize how fun Pepper was. Stay tuned for more doggy dog news. [/shitty joke]

Religion is but a desperate attempt to find an escape from the truly dreadful situation in which we find ourselves. Here we are in this wholly fantastic universe with scarcely a clue as to whether our existence has any real significance. No wonder then that many people feel the need for some belief that gives them a sense of security, and no wonder that they become very angry with people like me who say that this is illusory.

--Fred Hoyle--

July 28, 2003 || 8:24 a.m. - The weekend was good. Real good. One caveat...I'm tired. Really tired. I mean, I can hardly type this. I plan to catch up on sleeping tonight. If all goes well, this weekend will probably be better than the last. :-)

The thought of suicide is a great source of comfort: with it a calm passage is to be made across many a bad night.

--Friedrich Nietzsche--

July 25, 2003 || 1:22 a.m. - A co-worker just asked, and I quote, "Are you high?" For the record, I'm not high. Another one of my co-workers, sitting right across from me, keeps asking me "Is that 'Shindig in the Shire you're listening to?'" I'm listening to an mp3 CD comprised of mostly music by "Nickel Creek". Listen to their music for a while, and you'll understand the whole "Shindig in the Shire" question.

**Sigh** I'm going to Laredo. Again. I think tonight is a Bennigan's night. One dollar pints of Killian's Red. $3.25 pints of Guinness. Yep, tonight is a Bennigan's night.

I fell asleep in a movie theater last night. I was watching Bad Boys 2 with my little brother. I'd seen it before, so I figured I'd take a nap.

On another note, the quote below is perhaps the most beautiful thing I've ever read. Ever.

We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.

--Sam Keen--

July 24, 2003 || 8:10 a.m. - Cell phones are evil. That's right; evil. Last month I place over 500 calls. I used about 3500 night time and weekend minutes. My paltry 300 day time minutes were consumed in about 7 days. I ended up using 171 daytime minutes worth of overage. On top of that, I used about 15 minutes of "off network roaming" minutes (read: the most expensive fucking phone calls a person can make...almost a buck a minute). So I thought to myself "This is the second month this happens. Shall I keep paying $150 phone bills, or change to a plan offering more daytime minutes, and free roaming, that costs 1/3 of what I've been paying?" It's a no-brainer, really. On top of this daytime minutes bullshit, every time I change my plan, I'm _forced_ to sign a fucking 1 or 2 year "agreement" (read: contract). I pay only two bills that are bound by contracts; my wretched cell phone bill, and my mortgage. See that? My cell phone bill is, essentially, on the same contractual level as my damn mortgage. I gotta call bullshit on that one.

For those of you that are interested, my weekend went something like this: Drink, drink, drink, drink, eat, sleep, sleep, sleep, eat, eat, tv, tv, theater, shopping, tv, eat, sleep, drink, bbq, bbq, bbq, drink, drink, drink, drink, eat, drink, throw tortillas at cousin, drink, eat, throw more tortillas, drink, pass out, talk in sleep, talk in sleep, drink, eat, pass out, talk in sleep, eat, sleep, drive, sweat, sleep.

I'm out.

But immediately upon this I observed that, whilst I thus wished to think that all was false, it was absolutely necessary that I, who thus thought, should be somewhat; and as I observed that this truth, I think, therefore I am, was so certain and of such evidence that no ground of doubt, however extravagant, could be alleged by the sceptics capable of shaking it, I concluded that I might, without scruple, accept it as the first principle of the philosophy of which I was in search.

--Rene Descartes--

July 23, 2003 || 11:32 a.m. - The Road Home || This story is not about me, but about a friend. Since I'm not in the mood to write much, I'm going to write it in a sort of abbreviated, succinct manner. Anyhow. 9:00 a.m., July 22, 2003. At the bus station. Anxious to get home. 9:00 a.m. bus arrives (The bus I'm to board). Bus is full (Greyhound overbooked). Waited for next bus to arrive at 11:00. Bus is full (Greyhound overbooked). Waited for next bus to arrive at 2:30. Bus is full (Greyhound overbooked). Gave up hope. Decided to rent a car. Walked on over to car rental counter. Was told that car would cost $160/day + $60 for each additional hour beyond 24 hours. 24 hours to travel 1500 miles. A virtual impossibility. Hesitantly agreed to terms. Forked over credit card for car. Card denied. Over my limit. Friend accompanying me hands over credit card for car. Card denied. Over her limit. Two others who were going to accompany us in rental car were without a credit card. Car rental company refused to take my bank's debit card. Wanted a credit card. Debit card can technically be used as a credit card. Car rental company refused it. Anger ensued long ago. Extreme anger and frustration has now ensued. No choice but to have brother a friend pick us up to drive us back home. Got home too late to get refund from Greyhound. Fuck Greyhound. Booked flight instead. Had to pay over $400 for flight since it was booked on short notice. Thank God this day is over.

:( That's the story I got yesterday. I'm sorry, "Isela". You'll get home. :) No worries. :)

On a more personal note. Yeah. Forked over $550 yesterday to get the A/C compressor clutch, A/C blower motor resistor, and two hubcaps on my car replaced. Yay Ford.

Scanner + Adobe Acrobat 6.0 Professional + email = Goodbye fax machine (aka, piece of shit). I love technology. :)

Religious tolerance has developed more as a consequence of the impotence of religions to impose their dogmas on each other than as a consequence of spiritual humility in the quest for understanding first and last things.

--Sidney Hook--

July 22, 2003 || 6:17 a.m. - "Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries!" That is all.

All those who believe in telekinetics, raise my hand...

--Kurt Vonnegut--

July 21, 2003 || 5:37 a.m. - Folks, don't do drugs. No, this isn't another "drugs are bad for you" diatribe. No, this isn't brought to you by US Customs, Or McGruff, or the DEA, or any other assfaced agency pretending to give a shit about your well-being, while all along worrying about nothing more than being funded by us, the American taxpayers, or having their pockets lined by those who stand to gain from maintaining and accelerating the current War on Drugs. No, this is about me. This is about my pharisaic, over-inflated ego actually thinking that what I'm going to tell you matters. This is about me wanting you to listen to me cause, damn't, I'm more important than whatever the hell it is you were doing before my semi-daily rant sidetracked you.

I'm sick and tired of dealing with people who insist on getting hooked on drugs...particularly cocaine. God-damned coke-heads and their fucking erratic, nonsensical attitudes. I've dealt with probably a dozen clients who were obviously addicted to that wonder drug, cocaine. See, there it is, my ego talking. Me, me, me, me, me. Pay attention to me. Cater to me. Do what I tell you, cause it affects me. Me, me, me. (Since I'm so important...so grand, I just know when a client is a drug addict). Anyhow, I swear to God; cocaine should be classified as "Multiple Personality Disorder inducing drug". Why? Think about it. Have you ever known a coke addict? Observe them when they've "got their fix". Their nice, generous, and generally easy to deal with. Now, observe them when they've yet to "get their fix". They're irritable, ignorant, demanding, non-reciprocating, obnoxious, and generally assholish. Am I right? Yes, I am.

Now, here's my gripe. The whole reason for this pseudo-MPD cocaine induced syndrome is...you guessed it, the fact that they're hooked on COCAINE! Had they not got hooked on it in the first place, they wouldn't be having these mood swings! They wouldn't have to worry about getting their fix! They wouldn't have to let their frustrations regarding getting their fix out on innocent bystanders like myself! Don't. Do. Drugs.

Again, I don't give a shit about you, Mr. Joe C. Druguser. But please, think about me. Think about how your drug addiction affects me. Now if you absolutely, positively, must do drugs, SAVE YOUR FRUSTRATIONS FOR THOSE WHO GIVE A SHIT! CAUSE I'M ALL OUT OF GIVING A SHIT HERE! I don't care if you need your fix. That's your problem. Not mine. Take it out on yourself, not me. Assholes.

They firmly believe in witches; though they will not believe nor attend to the most simple proposition of Euclid.

--David Hume--

July 18, 2003 || 8:30 a.m. - Today, I feel as if I am the antithesis of excitement. I felt such a powerful sense of boredom last night, it seems to have carried over to this morning.

I was awaken at 2 a.m. by an incessant ringing sound coming from my cell phone. Do people not realize that I need sleep (Just kidding, "Isela" :) ).

So I pay a visit to my barber yesterday (Yes, she's a licensed barber). I sit in that God-forsaken, uncomfortable chair. She drapes that pseudo-robe over me, wraps a towel around my neck, and says "What do you want me to do?" It's 6:00 p.m. I had a long day at work. I was exhausted. I said, "Alicia, do what ever the hell you wanna do." And so she did. My hair, that was once semi-long, is now so short, that if I don't "gel it up" in the morning, it will just spike straight up. Never in my 25 years have I sported a hairdo like this. Frankly, I like it. Thank you, Alicia.

This red light on my printer keeps flashing cause it's out of paper. It's been that way for a week now. I know it sounds strange, but I feel some sort of devilish satisfaction knowing that my printer is, essentially, completely dependent on me. Without my assistance, it simply will not work. I think I'll let it suffer for a while longer. I feel especially satisfied when I use my printer to scan things. It's as if I'm saying, "Ha ha...you thought I was going to feed you paper? you spoiled bastard, you. Well, think again...for this operation does not require the paper that you lust for!"

In every party there is one who through his all too credulous avowal of the party's principles incites the others to apostasy.

--Friedrich Nietzsche--

July 17, 2003 || 1:59 p.m. - This weekend, I will once again endulge in the sin that is drunkenness. Ah yes. Sweet, sweet, alcohol. I'll be in Laredo this weekend; the decision has been made.

Today has been a terrible day. The worst day. Why? Cause I paid bills today. I hate paying for things. I love capitalism, but I hate paying for stuff. Ironic, no?

I woke up this morning to the sweet sounds of thunder. I love stormy weather. I love waking up to a morning filled with loud booms, heavy winds, hard rains, and dreary skies. Something about dreariness really enthralls me.

Work is looking up. I've finally begun to develop an actual system for processing my files. The way things are looking, my organizational skills will improve about 10 fold, and my efficiency at work will improve about 15 fold. The funny thing is, my little system is so simple; so minute; it really is a shame I didn't think of it before.

Visit pisteuo.org. If you want intelligent conversation, with perhaps a bit of humor injected into it every so often, you'll enjoy it.

i'm a girly man, apparently:
i dropped a book yesterday when a spider crawled onto it
then i looked around to see if anyone saw. no one did.
then, as if embarrased that the spider witnessed my girliness, i stepped on it.

--Simon Foust--

July 16, 2003 || 10:23 a.m. - Another day, another dollar. I love being on hold with our credit reporting agency for 20 minutes. Wasted time is time wasted. Feh. I saw "I'm With Busey" last night. I was, well, I was amazed. The thing is, I'm absolutely convinced that everything he was doing; everything he was saying; everything he was suggesting; he really meant. I don't think he was trying to be funny. That's the funny thing about the show. The guy seems to be seriously derranged.

I took at 5 hour (yes, 5 hour) nap yesterday. You wanna talk about being refreshed? I felt uber-refreshed when I woke up. Sadly, I was pretty much trapped in my house due to the weather. Since I had so much energy, I cooked food, washed dishes, made an assload of phone calls, did some work from home, and started burning Seinfeld episodes onto VCD. That's a good story, too.

Two weeks ago, I came across a fellow on bytemonsoon.com offering, for download via BitTorrent, all 180 episodes of Seinfeld. 7 gigs, and one week later, I was the proud owner of every single last episode of Seinfeld; even the banned from TV "Puerto Rican Day" episode. Sunday night, I left TMPGenc running and managed to encode to VCD format the first 42 episodes. Yesterday, I sat down and burned those episodes to 14 discs (3 per disc). I watched Seinfeld till just after 1 a.m. I now have an abundance of Seinfeld. Life is good.

because that a place that alot of under age drinking takes places so this i guess is a way to improve that

--Denise Juarez--

July 15, 2003 || 7:23 p.m. - Stayed home today. The office was closed because of Hurricane Claudette. Last time it rained excessively, everyone was essentially stuck in the office due to flooding. Not today. I spent the day sleeping and pretty much working from home (over phone). I'm contemplating whether or not I should go to Laredo this coming weekend. That's about it for today's boring entry.

"The heavens declare the glory of God and the skies proclaim the work of his hands."

--Psalms 19:1, (NIV Translation)--

July 14, 2003 || 8:47 a.m. - 1) I hate Mondays. 2) I didn't sleep well at all last night because I kept dreaming that I was a character in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. I haven't even seen the movie, but I kept dreaming about shit that, you know, could be in it. Specifically, high intensity action situations. Have you ever tried to sleep while dreaming about hanging from the roof of a car doing 120 MPH? Have you ever tried to sleep while dreaming about dangling, without a parachute, from a hot air balloon 10000 feet up? Damn you, Sean Connery. Damn you to hell.

I spent my weekend doing jack shit. The highlight of my weekend was my short trip to Old Navy. I got two pairs of khaki pants for $15 each. Damn't, I love that store.

I saw The Ring at a friend's place Friday night. The first time I saw it, I had to sleep with my light on for a couple of nights. This time around, I noticed that after watching it, my heart would start racing every time I was about to walk around a dark corner. That movie seriously scares the shit out of me.

**Sigh** Time to get back to work.

There can be no other truth to take off from than this: I think, therefore, I exist. There we have the absolute truth of consciousness becoming aware of itself.

-- Jean-Paul Sartre--

July 11, 2003 || 12:30 p.m. - The high speed scanner/document server is now officially online. Let the fun begin.

There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.

--George Santayana--

July 11, 2003 || 8:29 a.m. - People are stupid. So I'm sitting in the drive thru at a McDonald's a few blocks from my office, waiting to pay for my large coffee. The fool in front of me pulls up to the first window to pay for whatever it was he/she ordered. I see them hand over cash. I see them receive change. What does the fool do then? Drive off like the dickens, without their food. So I drive up, and I'm offered the food that foolish Mr. Buick Roadmaster forgot about. I politely declined it, cause, well, I'm not hungry. On another note; am I the only person who thinks that McDonalds' webpage having a "Restaurant Locator" is rather, well, pointless?

Yesterday was a long day. I spent my evening brainstorming on the phone with my girlfriend. She has a project she has to present today. Basically, it's an artsy makeup design/face-painting project. Her idea: A fairy. Half of this fairy's face was to be bright, happy, and glowing. The other half was to be dark, desolate, and grim. Her instructor "just didn't see it." Given that tidbit, she decided to change her project some. Her instructor felt that other projects were more artistic than a fairy depicted as torn between good and evil, light and dark. Other projects like a girl, with her face painted blue, with brightly colored fish spotted all over her face. Other projects like a girl, with a snake painted on her face. No offense to her instructor. It's my understanding that she's actually a very well known hollywood artist (Something about working on Beverly Hills 90210, and being married to Jason Priestley, or something...I don't know)...but come one. Pull your head out of your ass! I guess I'm just not artistic enough to see the beauty in a blue face with 38 green, red, orange, and yellow fish dotted throughout.

If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him.

--Francois Voltaire--

July 10, 2003 || 9:20 p.m. - Death is a funny thing. People say, "He/she is in a better place now." Those same people proceed to cry and sob about the deceased being in a better place. Human nature, I suppose...on two levels, actually. 1) When a person says a dead person is "in a better place", that person is simply trying to rationalize their feelings of hurt and heartache. By imagining that the deceased has gone to "a better place", the feelings that bystanders have difficulty coping with are quelled somewhat. 2) Grieving is a natural part of death. It's human nature to grieve for the death of loved ones. It is this grief that is being suppressed by the notion(s) of "a better place." Still...it seems to me that grieving and rationalizing are, in a way, contradictory, no?

I lost a great-aunt this past Sunday. She was close to my family, but frankly, we all expected her to go soon. Her passing came as no surprise to anyone. The cancer didn't kill her...the chemo did.

So as I sat at home, I looked back at her life. Specifically, the last year of her life. My great-aunt was perhaps the most devout person I've ever known. She had completely surrendered to the Will of God. This surrender gave her a sort of inner-peace. Nothing bothered her. Nothing ever hurt her. Nothing ever angered her. She was at peace with herself; at peace with outsiders; and at peace with God. At peace with God. This is where frustration sets in. For the last year of her life, she underwent chemotherapy treatment. For those of you out there not familiar with the effects of chemo, I'll just say that it makes a person weak...deathly weak. Vomiting, nauseau, erratic vital signs, fatigue, hyperactivity...you name it, it's a side effect of chemo. It tends to weaken a person beyond belief. One week, my aunt was fine and dandy, the next, she could barely sit up.

Anyhow, on to my frustration. During the last year of her life, she didn't once "fight" the effects of chemotherapy. She'd simply sit back and be content in "leaving it in God's hands." This frustrates me. This angers me. She put her faith in God. Fine. But to simply surrender to God, and to the effects of chemo, because she was intent on putting her life in God's hands is, to me, unacceptable. I feel that even the most devout person should put up some sort of a fight when it comes down to living or dying. What really angers me is that the church (The church she attended...where services were held) not only condoned this surrender...the church endorsed this surrender, and encouraged all else to do the same. Bull. Shit.

God is not there to do for us. God is not there to hold our fucking hand and make decisions for us. God is not there to decide whether we live or die. God is not there to decide for us. God is there to guide us. God is there to inspire us. God is there to make us stronger. How can completely surrendering to a disease, and putting everything in God's hands, be construed as guidance? Or inspiration? Does God really want us to say "Hey, buddy, up there, you take care of this for me, k? I trust you with my life. You handle things. I'll just sit here, waiting, watching, k?" There are those who believe so. I don't. I'd like to think that God is somewhere thinking "Hey, buddy, fight for your precious life! Fight for the life you deserve! Don't just lay back, waiting on me! This life is yours! It's your responsibility to protect it!"

Surrendering to whatever deity you believe in is on thing. Giving up and expecting said deity to take over for you is just unacceptable. Equally as unacceptable is endorsing and promoting that idea.

This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.

--The Dalai Lama--

July 7, 2003 || 8:16 a.m. - Someone decided to turn the A/C off Thursday afternoon before leaving the office. According to the thermostat, it was 88 degrees in here this morning. Yay Monday. Had a nice, long weekend. It was nice to be Internet-less for a few days...to "unplug", as it was put to Neo. This weekend went something like this: Eat, drink, drink, drink, sleep, sleep, forget, eat, eat, sleep, eat, sleep, eat, sleep, eat...in that order. Had another interesting night/convo last night. Thankfully, it ended on a pretty positive note. Also spoke with an Internet friend for the first time last night (Yay Simon). As most first conversations go, it was awkward, but good none-the-less. Hopefully today will be a good, uneventful Monday.

In a universe of electrons and selfish genes, blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won't find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe that we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but pitiless indifference.

--Richard Dawkins--

July 3, 2003 || 10:03 a.m. - 7 hours last night. I'm feeling good today. Peppy. Actually, I'm fairly happy. Quite a change from yesterday. I saw Shallow Hal last night, again. Something about that movie is heart-warming. I'll be driving over to Laredo this evening. I'll be spending the weekend with my family. I dreamt of a past client last night. I dreamt that he and my branch manager got into a vicious fist fight. Very, very strange. The word for tonight is...Guinness. Happy early Indpendence day.

With respect to the theological view of the question. This is always painful to me. I am bewildered. I had no intention to write atheistically. But I own that I cannot see as plainly as others do, and as I should wish to do, evidence of design and beneficence on all sides of us. There seems to me too much misery in the world. I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars, or that a cat should play with mice.

--Charles Darwin--

July 2, 2003 || 8:24 a.m. - Running on 3.5 hours of sleep this morning. Last night was, to say the least, interesting. Did I do the right thing? Did I make a mistake? Time will most certainly tell. If last night was any indication, the next couple of weeks will be interesting; possibly even chaotic.

Does a man of sense run after every silly tale of hobgoblins or fairies, and canvass particularly the evidence? I never knew anyone, that examined and deliberated about nonsense who did not believe it before the end of his enquiries.

--David Hume--