Her Floxiness

The fun never ends. I joined a site called SuperViva, which is like 43things or the bucket list, where you list your life goals. I didn't expect this membership to generate personal mails, but dang if it didn't. Now I don't know if this is just one of those advertising/spam sort of things where they are just trying to get you to join some other site or not. Either it's that, or this is some Russian girl who wants a green card, or it's actually a person who thinks her note will make me drop everything and beg her to engage me. Here's what she wrote:

Hello
my name is Floxy!!,iam tall and ooking young girl, after reading
your profile,i will like to have a relationship with you, can you write me
at,(herfloxiness@yahoo.com) [not her real addy]
we can start from there, also i will send you my picture, i will be waiting
because i have something VERY IMPORTANT to tell you, take care and lots of
love,God bless you.
Floxy!!

Isn't this what everyone is after? a "ooking young girl"? Wonder what that's code for? Some as yet undiscovered position in the Kama Sutra? And it's such a delight to know that she "will like to have a relationship" with me. I'm so excited. I'm glad she wants to start slow. And this oh-so-titillating "very important thing" she has to tell me...what could it be? She is a morphodite? She voted Republican? She...isn't really named Floxy?


It reminded me of an entry in my High School yearbook which I have to this day still not figured out the author of. It said:

You are sweat and cool grill. I glad i known you, hope i known you again. Hope you will

And that's all. Hope I will---WHAT? fer chrissakes? I think the bell rang.

I will be updating this entry as I receive more bewitching mails from Her Floxiness.
Maybe I should buy some new slacks....

Her Floxiness

I Warned You About Protective Head Cover.

In response to a recent blog, (Ditto) a friend of mine mentioned that maybe the person I wrote about would not ever try to communicate with me about the situation, for fear it might end up in another blog. But I only write about people that way if they have been moved to the negative column, so her argument dissolves at the start. Had this person accepted the many opportunities to communicate with me, the blog would not have been written. She chose not to.

As I said in that blog:

"There's an upside to this vocation that offers some solace that others might not have. Frequently, when we are hurt, we have no where to put those feelings, no way to get it out of our systems....witness the lock-and-load folks who suddenly snap and shoot up a McDonald's. While I understand HOW that can happen with certain psyches, I am not one of those people who tick...but this does not mean I don't get angry, disillusioned, and have a quick pity party every so often. I'm human, and I embrace my human condition. But I have no wish to wallow in that type of mud. So, when someone really pisses me off, I write about them. They might appear in one of my novels, where I can reveal their ugly underpinnings...or I might simply write a blog like this one. This is a type of revenge, however paltry. And it makes me feel better."

I only write blogs like that about people who have in some way treated me with blatant disrespect, deceived me deliberately, or caused me injury, and did not soon thereafter re-open discussion about it, or backtrack and apologize. I can accept a sincere apology when someone takes responsibility for themselves and their actions. I've said and done things which, upon thoughtful consideration, I regretted. When this is realized, I immediately contact the person I might have wronged and offer an explanation and an apology. So there's that.

And there's this: Before I bury any bones, I examine them first, so that maybe there will be one less funeral next time. There is valuable information to be had in the marrow.

I was also told that this person I wrote the blog about contacted a friend of mine and said she and I "had a misunderstanding" and she "didn't know how to undo it" but that she "really wanted to be part of the Hen Party."

Let me get this straight. The person who mistreated me did not call, text, or email to offer her apology or open a dialogue, but she contacts a friend of mine, dismisses the issue and then announces she wants to be involved IN MY SOCIAL GATHERING. Not, "I think there was a misunderstanding and I feel awful about it...and as her friend, I was hoping you could give me some insight, so I can talk to her..." or anything of the sort. Just that she wanted to be involved in MY social gathering. How did she think that was going to go down with me sitting at the same table with her? Am I the only one with the stones to say, "Excuse me, there's an elephant in the room." And how much more does this make her appear every bit a COWARD?

So, I don't feel guilty for posting a detailed blog about the experience. I did not give her name, nor post her picture; and what about the odds against anyone reading it who would know her? There are millions of blogs. According to Technorati, there are 50 MILLION of them, and that number doubles every six months*. The truth is, the discomfort of seeing a blog by me, about her, comes from being exposed to HERSELF, not from the fear someone else might see it.

So, when I am treated rudely on THE FIRST DATE, I can't for a second believe that any others will be better. Ostensibly, we are on our best behavior on a first date. I admitted that I was not quite myself on the date, as I was exhausted, and afflicted with several other conditions, physiologically. These combined, rendered me less than 100%, which I explained as well as I could to her and apologized for. But at no time was I rude to her. What was her excuse? If this was her best, I don't want to know how much worse it would have been. She offered no apology, no discussion, and no open dialogue about her behavior, and this was subsequently compounded by various acts of selfishness and cowardice. Those people go into my negative column, and become another bug under a glass for me. At that juncture, they are a specimen which I will examine closely, and record my thoughts about, so that I might learn to recognize that species next time, and avoid engaging it. I intend to get something out of each unpleasant experience, even if it's just information about human nature. If someone is behaving badly, I don't see how they can call me out for being INCONSIDERATE by shining light on that behavior. Maybe if more people thought that the way they treated other people, or the way they behaved in general, might be scrutinized and published, they'd correct that behavior. If you don't want to be called into responsibility for your abhorrent behavior, don't behave abhorrently. Call it negative reinforcement.

On the left hand side of this blog, under my photo, I said "Wear a helmet" didn't I?

----------------------
*http://www.cyberjournalist.net/news/003674.php

I Warned You About Protective Head Cover.

Witty Segues: Pariahs, Torches, Movies & Sex Toys

[this is a writing exercise I do, wherein I take a list of unrelated subjects and phrases in my files (or through suggestions from readers) and try to connect them in prose...and it's usually humorous. It also teaches you how to construct segues. The items in this list are, Pariahs, Torches, Movies & Sex Toys.] so...here we go....


I am a pariah. I know this, though the usual response from my friends to this proclamation is a dismissive, "No you're not...you're just rare and wonderful." Like a good steak. So I'm only good for a food source.

One of my biggest fears is that I'm going to die alone in my home, and my cats will eat me because I am too dead to open their food cans. I have three (cats, not food cans...this is The Crazy Cat Lady Starter Kit). I might have a chance to avoid that fate, because one of my cats, Monkey, happens to be polydactyl--she has 22 fingers--to include thumbs. As in Opposable Thumbs. A higher life form. Who can, perhaps, manipulate things like can openers.

If I am lucky enough to avoid the death-by-cat-consumption, it's a distinct possibility that I might be ostracized by my community...I keep waiting for a bunch of torch-carrying village people to come get me...I don't mean VILLAGE PEOPLE...like [singing] Yyyyyyy--M--C--Aaaaaa. I don't know what those guys might carry. KY, perhaps [singing: Kaaaaaay---yyy-------] okay, not enough letters for that to fit the timing of the song.... Anyway, no, Not Village People, Villagers. Torch-carrying Villagers. Hillary Clinton said it takes a village. But nothing is said of the Villagers themselves. Do they all carry torches? Or just the ones who are intolerant pyromaniacs?

I have been guilty of intolerance myself, when it's warranted. But I don't pursue pariahs with a burning torch in my hand. I can live vicariously through books and movies. Though, perhaps my reticence to be part of the torching mob is because I don't much like horror movies. Like, Nightmare on the Village People Street. Must be about hate crimes, not sure.

I just finished reviewing that horror flick, The Descent, and I liked it in spite of its horribleness, though I didn't envy those women who had to defend themselves against subterranean carnivorous humanoids. I usually enjoy tamer fare. Like Sleepless in Seattle, or You've Got Mail.

Speaking of which, I just got some mail that made my day. It was a gadget called the Eroscillator. I've asked it to marry me. I told my best friend about it, but she wasn't quite clear what eroscillating might be. She said, "Is it like an oscillating heater?"

"Well, maybe more like an Oscillating Peter. But yeah, it does create some heat."

Oscillating Peter sounds like a Sundance film. 'Oscillating Peter...coming to a theater near you.'

I don't think I want an Oscillating Peter in a theater near me.

Witty Segues: Pariahs, Torches, Movies & Sex Toys

Ditto

The word "Ditto" means another of the same, a duplicate, a copy. What I have been experiencing here, with people, is ditto. Just when I might feel my faith in people resurrecting, a little ditto happens and that faith is relegated to ashes again. Is everyone a ditto? I can't possibly be the only one who feels this way, so why can't I ever find those people? And why can't one of them be my partner so that I can stop stumbling over the corpses of my own discontent?

Writing can be solitary, and writing can be thankless. Real writers write because they have to. And while I have often said, "I love writing and sometimes the feeling is mutual"--There's an upside to this vocation that offers some solace that others might not have. Frequently, when we are hurt, we have no where to put those feelings, no way to get it out of our systems....witness the lock-and-load folks who suddenly snap and shoot up a McDonald's. While I understand HOW that can happen with certain psyches, I am not one of those people who tick...but this does not mean I don't get angry, disillusioned, and have a quick pity party every so often. I'm human, and I embrace my human condition. But I have no wish to wallow in that type of mud. So, when someone really pisses me off, I write about them. They might appear in one of my novels, where I can reveal their ugly underpinnings...or I might simply write a blog like this one. This is a type of revenge, however paltry. And it makes me feel better. Especially now, when I fear I might be on the cusp of reinventing myself -- again.

And what am I flirting with becoming? Time will tell, but it has a lot to do with giving in to the inevitable.

I have, for a long while, felt the barbs my ethics have produced. It's not always easy to do the right thing. It's not always easy to demand the best of people. But I truly believed there would be some kind of reward for that...I don't mean an afterlife reward, in that Jesus will pat me on the head and I'll get to languish in celestial pleasures for the rest of all eternity...I don't believe in that garbage. I mean the kind of reward that is more authentic. Actions that are taken because they represent who you wish to be, not some perceived accolade you might get from doing it. I want to be the one who takes the high road. But I've also said "the high road is not necessarily paved with crosses." There is a limit--a line--a boundary-- that must be honored here...I have no wish for martyrdom, and feel it is pathetic waste of energy better spent on other things. But there is a fine limit/line/boundary between avoiding martyrdom, and actually graduating to selfishness. SO often it seems that others have the things I seek to have, and they did not have to be long suffering, nice, or get their hearts broken to do it. I keep getting all these little stress fractures in my own heart. Sooner or later, that sucker is going to explode. I think I've just grown weary to the point of resignation--or rage--I'm not sure which....so what I want to say is fuck it. I will stop caring whether I'm ethical or honorable or shot through with integrity. It gets me nowhere. It only continues to disappoint me. There is no reward. The reward is in what you have, not what you might get. And I don't have what I want to have in my life. SO now maybe it's time I just moved on to the "getting" and told the "waiting" to take a hike.

The events of the last week were not the cause of this. The cause was a series of events and experiences which culminated in this result, the last layer of which happened to take place this week.

Here's what I have learned:
>No matter how much you think you might understand someone, you will most likely be wrong.

>No matter how good you think your intuition is, your ability to be mistaken is profoundly stronger.

>Reality is never predicated on what you wish was true, only on what IS true.


Here's the situation. I met someone online--a teacher from Joplin-- and paid to join a site so I could send her a mail. We also spoke on the phone for over six hours and then several more hours over the next few days. I felt a connection with her I hadn't felt in a long time. This, while reminding myself that you cannot truly know someone until you've met them in person and spent time getting to know them. But I have been accused so often of expecting the worst, and so I allowed myself to indulge in the idea that this time it might be different. She was supportive, engaging, intelligent, humorous. She denied that my periodic intensity about certain subjects was a put-off, and continued to instead call me "So adorable" and "So funny." As our rapport continued to improve, she offered tenderness, and intimated that I was as much a rarity as I thought she was. She even texted one of those nights as I was about to go to sleep that I made her smile and she "felt all Squishy inside." She was endearing me to her by a large degree. I was happy. I was excited. I was nervous to meet her.

Sidebar, here: I have Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome, and sometimes it's worse than other times. During my time talking to her, I happened to be on a really bad sleep schedule--I'd be awake for 20 hours, sleep for 4, be up for 8, sleep for 5, be up for 13, sleep for 2...that sort of thing. I often wasn't sure what day it was, and had to look out the window to know if it was day or night; if it was 6 O'clock, I never really knew for a few minutes if it was pm or am because the light outside is about the same. There is little I seem to be able to do to change this condition. It's been known to destroy marriages and careers. It's not quite as profound a problem for me, since I work at home and don't punch a clock, but now that I've been getting out more, I have found it becoming more of an issue, as I have to match the schedules of those I socialize with.

Anyway.....I asked her out to lunch.

By the time that first lunch date rolled around, I was exhausted. On my way to meet her I had to drive all over town, because I wanted to find just one pink rose to give her along with a little thank you card. I had no luck at 4 different locations, and was about to be late for the date. Finally I found them, but had to get three of them in a vase, because they didn't have single ones. I thought three was overkill for the occasion, as I just wanted to offer a nice gesture of appreciation for who I thought she was. I also had to buy a whole pack of thank you cards, just so I could use one for her, since none of the cards seemed appropriate. (*I did wind up giving her the vase and the other two when we got outside after lunch).

Then when I left the store, I spend a long time in the parking lot, unable to locate my car, and this added to my stress. That's when I wondered if I took my thyroid meds and it began to become clear that I had missed several doses. Anyone who knows anything about that, knows that not taking your thyroid meds can make you the village idiot. To compound the situation, it had been a long time since I had been on a date I was excited about--a romantically-tinged date...

So, I was in a weakened state. My exhaustion at this point had nothing to do with talking to her late into the night; i would have been awake all those hours anyway. But I had also run out of the supplements I take, like ginkgo biloba, and my multivitamin shake, etc, so I was without those reinforcements. I had also been eating very little or not at all; and then I also realized (after the fact) that I had missed my thyroid meds for almost three days. This, combined with being excited and hopeful to meet her, is why, I think my presentation-of-self to her included the shakes, confusion, figiting, and clumsiness, combined with a lack of concentration. I'm sure she thought I was mental, but there were reasons why I was that way. SO I knew I had made a bad first impression. (But not THAT bad. People have off days).

A couple of times, I would be looking into her eyes--not saying anything, and she would say "What?" like it bothered her. Partly, I was wondering why she kept talking about her job and her students and nothing else, since we had talked about a variety of subjects on the phone and I had already heard most of what she was saying before, so I didn't quite know how to respond, except to nod. I just thought maybe she was nervous too, but she informed me that she was perfectly comfortable, while wondering why I was so off-balance. The other reason--the more important one--that I was holding her eyes, was that I was trying to connect. Trying to merge the conversations we'd had with the person, and seeing if she would look back at me, and try to connect eyes-to-eyes, too. But I also understand the psychology of eye contact. While, frequent eye contact is a good thing, holding eye contact too long can also be seen as threatening, especially if two people are not very familiar with each other. (see this article) Since it seemed to bother her more than anything else, I dialed that back. I again just marked that off to nerves she wouldn't admit to.

There's another thing about my brain that vexes me. I am not visual. My memories and thoughts are in an emotional form, which I then have to translate into an image. I only get snapshots that pop up and disappear so that I can't hold onto an image for more than a nanosecond. (I know: how can I be a fiction writer and not be visual? That's on other blogs, but suffice to say, I had to learn another way. It has to do with taking my emotion and translating it into visual on the page. But it starts only as emotional awareness...it's complicated and difficult to explain...) Anyway, So when I meet someone online and develop a rapport by talking on the phone and emailing, there is still this huge gap for me, and it takes me some time to merge them after I meet them in person. And it's another reason I don't want to prolong the virtual thing. SO I'm sure part of my weirdness stemmed from how my brain works.

After the Red Lobster lunch, where I also gave her my 3 CD's, (and she gave me three packs of Gevalia coffee. Yum), we headed to the Hen Party Happy Hour. This is a gathering I maintain when I can wherein a group of women get together for cocktails or coffee, or at someone's home where we play games, eat, and share in some really entertaining smack-talk. This time, we were meeting at Chili's, and I had invited "Joplin" to join us, since she was in town anyway.

After we sat down, she was behaving with affection, holding my hands across the table, and I was enjoying it so much, but still struggling with my brain in exhausted chaos. I was also still nervous. Which is not like me at all. I can only imagine that in my weakened state, with defenses down, I was unable to maintain my composure well.

We ordered drinks and I hoped that this would at least calm my nerves and maybe I could salvage my usual behavior out of that pile. Near the end of my second amaretto sour, My friend TJ appeared and I gave her a hug, and introduced her to Joplin. I had not seen her for a while. I began to catch up with her and also play with her a little. My friends know that I like to poke at them a little, make jokes and all in good fun--they all seem fine with it. I have been told that's one of the main things they enjoy about me--my tendency toward wit. So I was starting to feel better and was beginning to enjoy myself. I included Joplin in the good-natured ribbing and such, and then Joplin said "You are just showing out now that your friend is here. You're showing off for your friend." Now first of all, showing off WHAT exactly? And second of all, this smacked of her playing teacher in a classroom. I am not one of her students and that remark was just condescending. I wondered why I had not noticed that she was that intolerant, judgmental and thin-skinned. She wasn't that way on the phone. I was playing, and never did I say anything mean. And she had repeatedly praised my range of emotion and periodic intensity when we talked on the phone. Then, suddenly in person, the rules had changed and she did not like who I am.The double-entendre irony here is that she teaches MUSIC to KIDS and yet, doesn't seem to know how to PLAY.

But it seemed she was somehow offended by my behavior, and even accused me of being a little drunk. I was not. and I do not get drunk--hardly ever. I had had a meal, and two drinks. So I made some joke about it--like "Uh oh. I'm in trouble."

I ordered an iced tea next, just in case the alcohol was clouding my perspective. But my perspective was pretty accurate, as her disgust seemed to continue; to include her response to my other friends who joined us. She did a lot of eye rolling and made a lot of displeased faces at what they said, and jiggled her leg and tapped her foot under the table and pretty much ignored me.

At one point she mentioned she was cold from the breeze coming through the front door, and I said "Would you like me to come sit next to you to block the cold?" and she said with consistent COLDNESS, "No."

When my best friend arrived, i went to sit next to Joplin to make room for my friend across from me. I made several attempts to smooth things over. I passed a note on a napkin that said "I'm sorry." I touched her leg, I touched her back, her hand, tried to make eye contact. She remained sullen and continued to pull away, ignore my efforts, and ceased to engage me personally. I felt she had put me in "time-out"--again, like i was one of her students rather than a peer.

At one point, the topic of my ad on Craig's List came up. I had placed it to meet local women to date, and only recently discovered that it was a popular place for call-girls and the like to place euphemistic ads to get customers. Who knew? I didn't really, but it didn't matter, because I had met 7 new women, with whom I have become friends, and I am enjoying their company. Some of whom were at that table. So when Joplin made a few disparaging comments about Craig's List being a meat market, I was worried that it would insult the ladies who were there, since we had all met that way. They wanted to know where she had met me, and I told them Yahoo. I had paid to join just so I could talk to her. She still seemed haughty about the Craig's list thing. My best friend jumped in and said she'd encouraged me to do it, to help take that heat off, and Two of the other ladies even tried to make that point by saying something really nice about my ad and how they wanted to get to know me because I seemed so different and special, and they were glad they met me. However it was they said it, it was very nice, and I was flattered. But I don't think Joplin understood that she had just insulted everyone at the table. I mean, that's true about Craig's List, but it's also true that you can find almost anything else there, too. Justi said something like, "yeah, you can also find tractors and babysitters." And besides, what did she think Yahoo was? A knitting circle? People go on all the personals sites because they're looking for a date, a partner or a roll in the hay. At least Craig's List is diversified. Anyway. That was not a good moment.

Now, I don't think even if I have forgotten some small details, (which I'm sure I have, I wasn't exactly razor-sharp that night)or even if I had said something sarcastic that might have been a little testy, it qualified me to receive such an overt and extreme response from her. I wouldn't have made any remarks under my breath if I hadn't been treated so badly. But I still wanted to try to salvage it, just in case there were some inherent misunderstandings that could be worked out.

First, I felt I needed to explain some things--about how I was experiencing some old agoraphobia feelings (but didn't realize it until later in the evening) because my defenses were down...(sleep deprivation, not eating regularly, missing my thyroid meds, and being nervous about a date I felt might be meaningful after so long not having that)...but my agoraphobia/panic attacks aren't something I ever want to make a topic of conversation on a first date; yet felt that maybe I should, so she wouldn't get the wrong idea. I was very proud of the fact that I had made great strides in conquering that phobic response. I no longer needed to take a Xanax when I went out in public. So I leaned over and said into her ear, "We need to have a little talk. There's some things I want to explain to you." Meaning, of course, my past struggle with panic and agoraphobia, and my missed medicine. But she didn't seem happy to hear that either. Maybe it came out wrong. But I was so off-balance by this point. I tried to then go on to have fun, and the icing on the cake was when she spat, "Take a pill." Well for those of you who have ever experienced phobias like this, and then learned to control it, that was the last thing you need to hear. It felt like a knife. And then I sensed the anxiety response creep in. Do I need to take a pill again? Am I lying to myself? What am I thinking, that I can handle this? Why am I even here? It was a terrible turmoil, exacerbated by her coldness and cutting remarks.

Well I certainly wasn't going to tell her something that personal after that. I had other things to worry about. Like how I was going to keep from bursting into tears and bolting from the restaurant. So I just tried to take deep breaths and talk myself down as I had learned to do a long time ago. And I wished for another drink, but denied myself that source of calm, because I had to drive myself home and I don't drive if I've had more than 2 drinks. Instead, I tried to engage everyone else and listen to what they were saying. I got through that part, but it only got worse when we ended our evening, and made it outside.

I walked her toward her car, and I started to speak, saying, "Look, I'm sorry things went awry, maybe we can--"

She paused in the parking lot, turned and said, "Whatever it is you want to talk to me about, I can't do it now. Call me tomorrow..." then, "What you said to me was very confrontational" and then somethign to the affect of her not liking it...

I said, "What? Which thing?"

She quoted, caustically, we need to have a little talk.

She left out the second part of that: '...there are some things I need to explain to you...'

Before I could recover from her hatefulness and intolerance, and the day in general, she turned and got into her car and drove away. I was left standing there, feeling like a fool, and wondering if I had really just been reprimanded again like one of her students. What would have made more sense to me, and been a great deal more mature was if she had said, "I know this date went a little off kilter and we should talk about it tomorrow, but i have to get up early, so I need to go. Thanks for dinner, the roses, the Cd's and inviting me to join you and your friends for cocktails. Call me tomorrow. " followed by a hug.

But that's not how it went down.

What was my sin? What could I have possibly done that was so worthy of her disdain? Was it the three roses in the vase I gave her? Three CD's of my original music? The 4 copies of my books I ordered for her to read because she said she'd like to? The lunch I bought her at Red Lobster? The invitation to a cocktail gathering with my friends? The offer to sit next to her to block the cold? Having a good time for a few seconds finally after a stressful day? These were my SINS?

I went back to talk to Justi, to see if she was coming over or going home and she said she had to get home, but saw I was upset, so we sat in her Jeep and talked about it. She knows more about me than anyone else on the planet and she has always been the sort of friend most people can only hope for. She loves me because she knows I'm worth loving. So what was the problem with Joplin? I asked her. Did I do or say something wrong? She said, "Not that I could see. She seemed to be in a constant state of disgust with everything anyone said."

I sat there and cried like a baby because was so disappointed, so humiliated, so disillusioned, so confused and SO EXHAUSTED. She, of course, made me feel better about it, including telling me that if that woman couldn't see all the wonderful things I had to offer, she was blind, and I was better off without her.

Before starting home, I sent Joplin a text asking her to please let me know she got home okay. She texted back, Got home a little bit ago. The drive was fine. Thanks for asking.

I responded. Ok.
and she said Ok. Talk to you later.

I went home feeling like crap, took my thyroid meds and a big dose of sleep meds and caught up on my missing sleep.

I wasn't sure what to make of the night before, but when I woke up I immediately checked my email and turned on my phones but there was no sign of Joplin. I figured she was at work and busy, and didn't think much of it. Around noon I got an email from her that said:

Hi Jae,


I hope you're having a good morning. I'm a little tired, but I'll be fine. I had a lovely time with you at lunch. Thank you. I'm sorry that you were nervous. It was quite stressful for me too. It was a lot of new people for me to meet all in one shot. I know some of them were new for you too, but some of them you've known for a while. I was glad that I stayed and hung out and met your friends. They're all very nice. I had fun.


Have a great day.

Now, this threw me because it sounded so normal, but in this case, it was inappropriately normal. It seemed she was acting like nothing had happened; being polite, but it seemed disingenuous to me, and smacked of playing games. I didn't know if she had switched into "just friends" or was ignoring it, or what.

I wrote back,

I also enjoyed meeting you at lunch and glad you joined the Hen Party Happy Hour too.


Understand, though, that what was going on with me was much more than just nerves and perhaps you have no way of knowing some of it. I was exhausted, but there was more going on, some I mentioned, some I did not. I spent the few hours after you left being very upset and trying to understand it; then I took a heavy dose of sleep medicine so I could finally get 8 hours of rest. Since getting up, I've spent the morning thinking about last night and how everything went awry. It's hard for me to make a complete assessment, because I think I'm missing some crucial information that only you can provide. I am very confused about what was going on for you, and I'm sorry for anything I might have done to make it exacerbate the negative. It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable, insult you, or otherwise make you sorry you had met me. I hope that you will want to talk on the phone about it, as I would still like to believe that those other conversations we had showed promise, because there was some promise. Translating that into an in-person dynamic, can, at times, be challenging. I will leave it up to you whether you believe I'm worth that effort, and wish to pursue it.


I hope to talk to you soon. Please let me know your thoughts.
Jae

When I didn't hear from her all day and into late evening, I just figured maybe she was busy, but was a little miffed that she hadn't at least said something to me to let me know what was happening, after what had gone down on the date. I mean, her email was a little formal in tone, and I thought she and I had gone past that stage. I thought she'd at least tell me she intended to talk about the issue when she could make some time...something. But no. By this time I had thought about all of it. I had mind-mapped it on my big desk pad, trying to make sense of it, figuring out what to say to her that would make sense, and taking notes so that I would NOT seem incoherent like I was on the date. And I had become a little angry, too. Looking at all of it mapped out, it started to become clear that I had done nothing wrong, and had certainly not deserved the treatment I got from her.

I didn't hear from her the rest of the day and into the late evening.

Next morning, I sent a text.

me: Do you have any intention of speaking to me again?
Her: of course. Right now I'm at a band contest & getting ready to do some accompaniments for students. I had drumline until late yesterday evening. Been busy.

ME: Be that as it may...I expected u to have the courtesy to let me know that, after you reprimanded me in a parking lot like I was one of your students.

HER: I'm not gonna fight with you if that's what you are wanting. Sometimes I teach from 7am until late at night. I didn't reprimand you. Grow some patience.

(*Note that right after she said she wasn't reprimanding me, she reprimanded me.)

ME: No fighting. Just this. Wrong answer, both times. Reprimand followed by a dismissal and then more condescension. It would have taken two seconds to let me know. That's not about impatience, that's about courtesy. You should grow some of that. all done here.

HER: I don't want to fight. Fine.

I didn't respond. Didn't intend to either. Then another text from her:

HER: Courtesy would have been you telling me to my face you wanted to talk with me instead of comments under your breath directed at me. Plus look at me when you talk

Telling her to her face? I had done that. That night, I had leaned over and said, "We need to have a little talk, There's some things I need to explain to you." We were, after all, at a table with four other people in a social situation. I did not think it was a good idea to ask her to step outside. That would have drawn too much attention to something that should have been discrete. Never mind that. Never mind that she was being cold, insulting and ignoring me. Of course I was making comments under my breath. I was insulted and could not get her to respond to my "I'm sorry" notes on the napkin, or the touch on her leg under the table, or my hand on her back, or trying to catch her eyes... No response of a hand squeeze or a simple "We'll talk about this later, lets just have a good time, " and then pat me on the leg or something. I mean, throw me a bone.

...and the "you were not looking at me..." --right, I was not looking at her, because I already tried that several times, and she would say "What?" and act like it bothered her. And more pointedly, she was sitting next to me at the time, and MY EYES ARE NOT MOUNTED ON MY EARS.

*it's the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, and while I am loathe to compare myself to a camel, perhaps I need to learn to traverse the desert of relationships with a little more survival skill. I have been advised that these are the usual pitfalls of standard dating. But I have not enjoyed much standard dating. I've got a goal to do that, in spades, but I can't say I'm looking forward to more of what I got the other night. I mean, the person who was on that date with me was not the same person I talked to on the phone. That girl on the phone was not thin-skinned, or judgmental, or condescending, tight-assed, or lacking in social graces. She was easy going, attentive, funny, engaging, accepting, and had all kinds of wonderful things to say about how much she liked me and who I was. I brought that person *I* was on the phone to the date, but she didn't bring the person *she* was.

Does everyone misrepresent themselves? Is self-delusion rampant? Was she playing me? Which version of her was the authentic version? I suspect the answer to that is 'the one I went out with."

So, I am nursing fresh disillusionment with people, with romance, with dating, and with the basics of good communication and courtesy. I'm sure I'll have plenty more chances to have this experience again. I just hope the outcome is more positive.

Ditto

Brain Sex

For the first time in a long time, I feel that there might just be better things on the horizon for me.

I had a phenomenal 6+ HOUR conversation last night on the phone, and it made me so happy to have such great rapport with someone. Communication is vital to me, and last night was a validation of why it's such an important part of my life. I have always enjoyed what i call "brain sex"--that is, engaging someone intellectually in a way that is so satisfying and inspiring, that you feel some chemical in your brain has been re-routed to the pleasure center. The perfect combination for me is conversation that includes thoughtful exchange, openness, honesty and frequent laughter. All that was present in this conversation. I went to sleep thinking about it, and I woke up thinking about it. I could not wait to speak to her again, and I am anxious to meet her in person and spend still more time getting to know her on that level. I feel..........lucky. This is not a feeling I've had with much frequency in years...i can only hope this is a portent of things to come.

Brain Sex

I'm having (gulp) good luck.

Things seem to be trending my way. Anyone who knows my recent history knows that that is a milestone all by itself. I have been too isolated for a long time and have been trying to arrange a relocation to the Denver/Boulder area, but that's a process that will take some time. Meanwhile, I wanted to have a social life again. So I placed an ad on Craig's List. Now, if someone had told me this before, I would have done Craig's list instead of the 40 other dating sites. Hands down, I have had more luck meeting women because of that ad than with all the other ads combined. I have made some really great new friends. There are EIGHT new women in my life.

There is one exception to the Craig's list thing: A teacher from Joplin with a really cool name, which I regrettably will have to omit for reasons of privacy, etc. But i met her on Yahoo. I had to make it a paid membership just to talk to her--and told her that this, in fact, meant she'd be obligated to go on a date with me. LOL. But it looks promising, in that I am a little excited about her. She's cute, and we texted (OMG, i hate texting...she's one of those people who send you three text messages while you're still typing in the answer to the first one. My phone started smoldering...I'm either going to have to avoid it altogether or get a Blackberry) Finally I called her and said "Oh my god!" We chatted for a few minutes, and she was on her way out of town, but hopefully I'll be able to meet her soon. Might be able to talk on phone with her tonight after my date. (Yes. I have a date on Valentine's day, for once.) Oh, and "Joplin" also plays racquetball, so hopefully I'll have a partner for that soon, again. I miss it.

I've also signed on as an Independent Rep for NJOY, electronic Cigarettes--about which I am extremely enthused. This product has allowed me to quit smoking tobacco for good. After 25 years of trying to quit. I am all about eCigs now.

I also have several new proofreaders for those 13 books I continue to jerk out of print and edit again and again. I needed fresh eyes. So soon i will have final versions of all 13 back on Amazon. And I am working on about 6 others, that I hope to finish this year.

I have some extra money nowadays as well, which has made a big difference too. I'm actually able to go and do and buy. That's also a welcome change. (Now if I can just procure that lucrative contract with a mainstream publisher, I'll be set. ).

I've met many of my major goals--the only big personal one i have now is to lose that extra lard I've gathered....I'll have to finally put that DVD in the player and work out to the cardio-from-hell routine...i tried it a month ago, and after five minutes, i thought I would die. Unbelievable how strenuous it is. But it's just what I need now.

Maybe I'll even (finally) sell my land in Alamosa. (anyone?).

So anyway, this is more a journal entry than a blog, but I felt it was important for me to commemorate that my life seems to be going in a positive direction now. 'bout time.

I'm having (gulp) good luck.

Lights! Camera! Grief.

Is it just me? Am I the only one who is chagrined by the way a tragedy is followed immediately by family members who go on Larry King and talk about how grief-stricken they are that they just lost a loved one?

This Buffalo Plane crash of Thursday/Friday. I find it completely offensive that those people are already being interviewed on news shows like Larry King, merely a day after it happened... Remember those disparaging comments about the "ambulance chasers" of yesteryear? This is worse. This is about people who ostensibly loved another person and lost that person tragically, who then, with great swiftness, appear on a national news or other program to talk about that deceased individual, and collect a fat payment on their way out. Can you say "Capitalizing on the death of a loved one?" I don't know about you, but If I had just lost someone I loved, the last thing I would do, or even be ABLE to do, is talk about it to a bunch of faceless strangers on television, and then get paid.

What is with all this death-whoring?

Has love and loss now been completely sold out to media and money?

Lights! Camera! Grief.

KUDOS!!!! NJOY Alternative Smoking Device

[mirror post from Kudos & Kudzu]

I am happy to report that my newest purchase regarding my health has proved an effective and outstanding solution.

I speak of the NJoy Alternative Smoking device. This was my Xmas gift to myself. I knew that one of my biggest obstacles with quitting was my oral fixation. Yes, I'm orally fixated. My pleasure-center is my mouth. I like to talk, smoke, laugh, sing, drink coffee, have a beverage all the time, wear flavored lip balms, kiss, (and other intimate things)...to name a few examples. What i missed more than anything else whenever I tried to quit smoking in the past, was the actual ACT of smoking. There was no substitute for that behavior.

In the early 90's I recognized this fact and used it for a speech class wherein we had to develop a product and give a presentation. Unfortunately, I had some deadbeat (younger) classmates on my team. I had to do most of the work. I came up with the product (LifeLight, Vitamist) and presented it. It was an alternative smoking device that produced MIST or VAPOR rather than smoke, and worked electronically, providing the same pleasurable sensation, but also added healthy ingredients and flavors. I even had vitamins and herbal supplements in mine. But alas, I did not have the capital to patent or develop and market it.

Well, NJoy has a product like this, though they don't yet offer vitamins. They do have flavors (Apple, Vanilla. They also come in menthol and non-menthol).

It consists of a cartridge with a smoking tip (like a Tiparillo) and a rechargeable tube. The NCIG Burgundy Starter kit cost $74.99 and then I paid $19.99 for the extra cartridges. So for a little over $100, I was on my way to being a non-smoker. The kit comes with two rechargeable tube/batteries and the charger, plus the sample cartridges, but I ordered the extra box of 5 cartridges. They come in menthol and non-menthol, with or without nicotine, and in different strengths. So you can start with the nicotine, while avoiding the 300 toxins that are in most cigarettes, and then wean yourself off the nicotine by going lower and then to the nicotine-free cartridges. Or not. You'll still be doing yourself a HUGE health favor, by getting rid of the smoke and toxins.

Another perk? Cost. According to the literature, the cartridges are supposed to be equivalent to one pack or perhaps one and a half. I was delighted to discover that they last twice as long, or more, for me. I think they might even last 3 or 4 days. I'll keep track of that. So, that $125 per month I was paying for a pack a day habit--now will drop to about $40, maybe less. And I will always have the option of ceasing use of the NJoy. But I probably won't for reasons mentioned before regarding my fixation.

I've been using my NJoy for 5 days now, and NEVER WANTED TO SMOKE A CIGARETTE. I have three packs sitting on the corner of my desk and never once felt the need to open one of them. It has been amazingly successful. It has been the easiest QUIT ever. And I feel very strongly that it will remain easy, and I won't ever want to go back. No more smelly clothes or smoky house; no more ashtrays, no more cigarette burns, no more being banished outdoors to smoke, no more rejection from non-smokers, whether as friends or potential dates, no more health risk, no more huge expense, no more FEAR of cancer from smoking, no more tight chest and coughing, and no more continual underlying anxiety that goes along with doing something you know is flirting with your own early-mortality.

My best friend also ordered a kit and she is having the same wonderful results. Both of us have tried for years to quit and could barely get past the first few days. I have a feeling this is different. For one thing, I DON'T SEEM TO CARE about having a cigarette anymore.

Another good thing--we can smoke our NJoys ANYWHERE. Since it's vapor, and not smoke, there are no restrictions. We might have to pull out the explanation card provided by the company to explain to those who would banish us for smoking, but it's obvious there are no laws of rules that prohibit us from creating vapor. And I still get to enjoy my oral fixation. And I love sitting in a coffeehouse or restaurant and "smoking" while chatting over coffee. Now I can still do that. And it harms no one, not even me.

As I did years ago with my own version of this idea, I still believe it can revolutionize the health care industry as there can be fewer and fewer smokers, and thus, fewer deaths, and costs.

I checked into being an Independent sales Rep for them, but they require you to spend about $500 in getting stock, first, and I'm not willing to do that, since I'm trying to save money all the way around--for my relocation to Colorado. I wrote to them to tell them my thoughts about that. Maybe that will change. Because I do know that I will tell everyone who smokes and who asks, that they can be happy non-smokers without all the fuss.

KUDOS!!!!!!!

KUDOS!!!! NJOY Alternative Smoking Device

What I'm Getting Myself for Xmas.

When I was in college during the early part of the 90's, (my second foray into academia) I had to do one of those presentations for speech in which your group invents a product and then does the sales pitch to the class. I ended up with a bunch of dead beats in my group who didn't want to work on it because they had a party to get to, beer to drink, etc. Most people who've been to college, know that drill....

So--I did most of the work. I came up with a product called "Life Light" which was a smokeless cigarette. (I use the idea in my novel Quintessence too, under the name VitaMist). The idea was that it would ignite through some chemical or electronic process, and what you would be inhaling was VAPOR, not smoke. Any smoker will tell you that one reason it's so hard to quit, is there's no substitute. When a drinker quits alcohol, her or she can still drink other beverages, even that fake beer stuff, and this at least helps. But there is no other thing smokers do that includes pulling smoke into the lungs and holding it and lighting it, etc. I knew this would address all those issues and provide society with a revolutionary alternative.

And there were different flavors and extra cartridges that could also include a delivery system for vitamins, minerals, herbs. In other words, it was a HEALTHY cigarette. And you could smoke it anywhere and blow it safely in a baby's face. I knew the idea could revolutionize the industry and send us into better health status as a society. (And of course, make me a target of tobacco industry assassins).

But finally, it would allow smokers to quit, without really quitting. I even wrote a jingle for it.

But of course, I didn't have the money to get a patent, nor the connections to find venture capital. Thus, a great idea withered on the vine...

But now...the vine has re-blossomed, and there are several products like my idea on the market. Though not imbued with vitamins, they are available without nicotine, and it's not smoke, along with the 300 toxins in a normal cigarette. And I love the fact that I will no longer worry about the stink on clothes and in my home, won't worry about finding a date because most of the types of women I'm interested in, don't smoke and won't date a smoker. The most recent (and best) smokeless/UN-cigarette I found is almost EXACTLY like the one I invented. Njoy

So, even though I am bitter that it didn't make ME rich, instead of THEM, it's still what I'm getting myself for Xmas. I just ordered the starter kit. I am so excited. I'll post back after i start using it.

Happy Holidays.

What I'm Getting Myself for Xmas.

Gun-Toting Sleepy-head

Sound. Sound. Bad sound. Door. Opening door. Danger.

I sat up in bed, suddenly awake, my pulse pushing at my neck. I did hear the door. The shlink of the deadbolt, to be precise.

Someone had broken in.

I reached down to the space between my bed and nightstand for the automatic I kept there. Thumbing the safety off, I crept out of bed to investigate. Halfway down the hall, I realized I didn't have my glasses on. I worried I would not be able to see who it was. I'd hate to shoot my best friend who surprised me with a midnight visit. But then, my best friend doesn't visit me at midnight without calling first, and she certainly wouldn't let herself in, unless I left the door unlocked. I gave her a key, but she can't seem to identify it amid the other mélange of keys on her keyring-cum-lethal weapon. I was wishing I had her keyring right about now. It might do more damage to a prowler than this .25 slug. I've heard countless tales of small handgun wounds merely pissing the intruder off so that if they had no intention of hurting you, they would, after that.

Okay, so it wasn't going to be my best friend. But I would see a blurred figure, only, without my glasses, and that might not be the ideal situation. Shoot first, ask questions later?

Too late. I was down the stairs and staring at the front door.

That noise again.

It was coming from the bathroom.

The prowler had picked my lock, secured the deadbolt after coming inside, and then decided to have a potty break before attacking me in my sleep?

Maybe he was a rapist, and he was in there putting on a condom.

A condom? That's rude. I don't have any communicable diseases. Now I'm frightened, angry, and insulted, too.

As I peeked around the corner I saw the bathroom door open and the light still off. He could still be in there, though. Maybe he heard me coming down the stairs. He wouldn't have, if my landlord would ever fix all those squeaking boards in the floor.

My attention back on the bathroom doorway, I lifted the pistol with one hand, and flipped on the hall light with the other.

No one.

Stepping into the bathroom, I heard the sound again, and looked up. I realized it was the exhaust fan on the roof. Squeaking in the wind. It sounded uncannily like the shlink of a deadbolt.

Sighing, I started back into the hall. After all that creeping around, with my heart pounding in my ears, I was so disappointed.

I went next door and shot my neighbor.

I mean, I was already up.

And he DOES play his stereo too loud.

-----------
*DISCLAIMER: I didn't really shoot my neighbor.
*ADDENDUM: Smothered him with a pillow.

Gun-Toting Sleepy-head

What Happens When I Leave the House

As most of my readers know, I am shackled with an older car that is systematically falling apart. I hope one day to enjoy the benefits and joy of having a car I don't feel like I have to park out of sight when meeting someone at a coffee shop. But alas. I won't belabor the point, as that cross has already been carried.

Since reading every last book I had in the house, I had to replenish my supply, and make a trip to the Library. This is usually an exciting event for me, being the intellectual geek I am, but I was only going to the local one, and let me just say, that it's very much a reflection of the majority of the population in this little village--Republican, Christian, and Retired. There would always be certain types of books I could never find on their shelves, like, God is Not Great, The End of Faith, and one of mine: ISO (In Search of): Dating, Relationships & Sex for the Discerning Lesbian. But thankfully, I am interested in a wide range of things, some of which meets their approval.

While browsing the shelves someone came in and asked who drove the blue Cutlass. Me. Seems I left my brake lights on. I wasn't aware that one could leave the brake lights on--the parking lights, maybe...but...anyway. I went out to check. It was raining. A portent?, but anyway, sure enough, they were glowing. I checked the light switches and there was nothing on. I banged on the light covers. Didn't help, So I went back in to finish gathering and checking out my books and went back outside, checked the lights again and they were off. Mmm. Must have been a short.

Got in. Turned the key.

Nothing.

Okay. Nothing like a dead battery in my situation. I have no local friends. So I went inside to see if i could find someone with jumper cables, and of course, someone who would provide the running engine to jump FROM. I asked the elderly clerk at the desk. All of them there are, shall we say, senior citizens. But that's reflective of local demographics, so I'm not surprised. One reason I'm anxious to make my move to Colorado. The lady did have jumper cables, and then pried herself off her stool and hobbled to the door with me, holding her keys. From just outside the door she aimed the keyless entry module and her trunk popped open. "I really don't want to get in this rain..." she murmured. I dashed out to her trunk as she called, "The cables are in the blue tub."

Pulling them out, I noticed that they were a different species of jumper cables. An older species. Like the difference between humans and amoebas. I can't recall ever seeing a pair of jumper cables like that. This indicated to me that they had not existed in current use for some time. I tried to Google a photo of these cables, but even in the rich plethora of data on the Information Superhighway, i could not find a likeness. I felt rather like Stephen Jay Gould, brushing powdery dirt away from the skeleton of what i thought was another Archeopteryx, but which turned out to be just a strange gnarling of tree roots. Anyway. In a moment of brilliance, I realized I could just take a picture of the cables, myself. Blame it on lack of caffeine, since, as I write this, I am only on my first cup of the day.

I rejoined the library matron by the front door and there was this awkward moment where I realized it hadn't occurred to her that I also needed her car engine. She seemed confused about why I wasn't dashing outside and hooking those puppies up. What was I to connect the other end to? the Ficus tree? I said, "I'm going to need a running car, now, to jump my battery..."

She looked out into the freezing drizzle for a few beats, then I saw understanding change her face. "Well, I really didn't want to get out into this rain..." But she reluctantly started for her car, braving the vicious torture of water drops on her person. As she does, I'm thinking, what is this aversion people have about rain? she'll probably go home after work and get in the shower without even thinking about the correlation...And if she suffered such a debilitating aversion, why didn't she carry an umbrella? Maybe she had an aversion to them, too.

As she pulled around, I began the tedious process of unwinding the 7 miles of string she had wrapped around the cables in three different locations. The string also seemed to hail from the Precambrian period. When she arrived, I opened the hood of my car as a man emerged from the library, noticed, and asked if we needed help. I briefly explained, and he hung around to offer assistance. Men are like that. While I appreciate the help, this type of gallantry has to come with its own version of mild insult: The idea that women are incapable of doing things that are traditionally the domain of men. I thanked him graciously, anyway.

The Library Matron pulled up next to my car, and I said, "pop the hood." She looked bewildered. I went to her window and she grudgingly cracked it an inch to tell me, "I don't know where that is."

I had to tell her to open the door so I could find it. There it was, to the left of her left leg--a lever with a helpful illustration of a raised hood. I pulled it, and she made haste to close the door again after i was barely clear of it, as if the wicked rain also gave off poisonous vapors, which you are wise to avoid.

At the engine, me and the Good Samaritan realized she had one of those batteries that did not encourage jumping. I was afraid to mess with it. I'm so used to having older cars, that the new ones sometimes scare me--I'm not sure if they have security devices to ward of would-be jumpers, that they might be rigged to, like, explode or something. I asked him if he had a standard battery and he said yes and went to get his car.

I returned to the window of Library Matron and through the second minuscule crack in the window, released her from duty. She gratefully re-parked her car and hurried inside, lest the vicious, burning, evil water drops permanently disfigure her well-earned wrinkles and moles. Can you earn a mole? I wonder what you'd have to do for it? Can't be that you'll brave the rain to help someone, as this seemed a completely foreign activity for the Library Matron, and she had moles. It must be something like the opposite: you gain a mole for every year of your life in which you were crotchety and afraid of rain.

Done with the footnote? Good. I realize they aren't at the foot, but that was because you'd have to scroll up and down a lot, and I am loathe to aggravate my readers. Other people, yes. Not my readers....I used to call these parentheticals "digressions," now I just call them footnotes.

Anyway, so in short order, me and the Good Samaritan got my engine zooming to life and I thanked him for his kindness and shook his hand, saying, "It's good to know there are still Good Samaritans."

He countered with, "Well, I'm always for helping a damsel in distress."

I quelled the knee-jerk response of eye-rolling, and opted for another engaging smile.

Leaving the engine running, I headed for the front library door and was met promptly by Library Matron. (Maybe she did not want me to come back in...I'm the one always looking for books on secular humanism, after all. A despot. An Infidel.) I tried to hand her the cables, and she said she was just giving them to me. I didn't fall for it. I knew this was not so much an act of generosity as an act of getting rid of some clutter that she had only moments ago discovered would not serve her. In the interest of social harmony, I offered her an indulgent thank-you, against my instincts.

My next stop was the local grocery, and I'll skip the edifying conversation I had with the Produce Manager and move on to the part where I went outside to load my items into the car. The bell-ringing sentry, complete with the Salvation Army kettle, had of course noticed that I left my engine running. As I was putting the 10 jugs of distilled water (it has no fluoride--more on that in another blog) he said, pointing at my car, "It's still running."

"I had a dead battery," I offered with a smile.

He said, "That's what I figured."

Capable of sustaining small talk when necessary, I added, "Yeah, my brake lights stayed on at my last stop and drained the battery."

He obligingly suggested that I might check the water levels in the battery cells. (not for a short in the brake lights, mind you) "Have your husband or boyfriend pry the caps off and check--"

I let that one go, loathe to again explain that I did not have a husband nor a boyfriend as I was a card-carrying lesbian, and eschewed the chastisement for his assumption. Instead I thanked him, and made my way back home.

------------------------------------------
Addendum:
Biscuit seems to have found another use for the Precambrian jumper cables...

What Happens When I Leave the House

Obama wins. Us too, maybe.

There will be thousands of people writing and commenting about this momentous event in history, but of course, I still have to offer my part.

The most surprising thing to me, beyond the overwhelming nature of Barak Obama being elected, is that when that announcement went up on the CNN screen:

Barak Obama Elected President

...I began to cry. The reaction surprised me. I didn't even cry when Bill Clinton was elected and I was so thrilled when that happened. I think there are things underneath this, running strong in many of us. It represents the chance for the nation to put aside petty prejudices and each toward something of a higher nature. I really do feel Obama is different. Hopefully, this is about a person, not a color; a hope, not a fear. It's a feeling that might only be felt fully on an emotional level.

Now, I can only hope that the possibilities Obama represents for America, can be realized, and we can begin to solve all the greatest problems in this nation, and again feel proud to call ourselves Americans.

Obama wins. Us too, maybe.

Temporal Anomaly?

Something weird happened to me. One of those things you don't really notice until you think about it.

Yesterday, i went to bed at around 2:30 a.m., and as usual, continued reading the last of a book. I finished the last few short chapters and then got up to do the ritual things before bed, got back in bed and started a new book, read for about a half hour (no more than a hour), reached to turn the lamp off, and saw that by the clock it was something like 7:30 a.m. I thought--that can't be right, then recalled that clocks are to be set back, so it was really 6-something, and went to sleep. But I failed to realize at that moment that even losing that hour wouldn't account for 4 hours of reading, when i KNOW i didn't read that long- (or i would have almost finished the book--and i NEVER read longer than an hour before getting sleepy. WEll these thoughts didnt' gel until i awoke at around 7 PM. 11 or 12 HOURS LATER?

So once i gave this some thought, i realized i had lost about 3 or 4 hours of time. I was awake during that time, reading. I do NOT fall asleep reading a book, because i notice when the words stop making sense and i quit there for the night, so i don't have to re-read it again. And the times when i have fallen asleep, it was because I allowed myself to, and then usually, i awoke from what was really a cat nap. So in the circumstance in which this occurred, it was not possible that i fell asleep and DIDN'T KNOW I FELL ASLEEP. And it wasn't possible that i "lost track of time" or read for several HOURS longer than i realized......And why did I sleep for 12 hours after that? I wasn't particularly tired. I hadn't done anything except write the whole day, as I usually do.

It's got me thinking. Did i experience some kind of time wormhole? I believe it's called a temporal anomaly?
I'll have to look up some information on time variations and oddities.
Any insight from anyone would be welcomed, of course.

Temporal Anomaly?