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Archive for July 3rd, 2007

I can see it in his eyes. He’s tuned me out. I’m not sure if he’s heard a word I said at all. I think he’s just standing there, politely pretending to listen to me, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. I wish I could crawl inside his brain, find the teeny little spot that has my name on it, and figure out why he despises me so.

Maybe it’s because of my weaknesses. You can tell that he’s never permitted himself to yield to any little temptations. And if he has, he’s convinced himself otherwise, so it’s all the same in the end.  A man isn’t supposed to have any weaknesses, according to his credo. Ergo, a weak man is less than a man. Something to despise. Maybe that’s it.

Maybe it’s my lifestyle. I’m a rocker, and I walk the walk and I talk the talk. He finds my long hair offensive, so much so that he can hardly look at me straight on. Funny how his eyes wander to the hair, and then snap back to my face, but still with that same dispassionate look in them that tells me he’s already discounted me.  I’m a damn good guitar player, and a good singer, not that it will affect his opinion of me or my lifestyle.

Or maybe he’s one of those people who thinks that since God didn’t see fit to grace me and my wife with children, we must not be good people. Because heaven knows, all good people are able to have kids whenever they want to. Or at least adopt, and we didn’t do that either. So maybe he thinks we’re bad people who are even too selfish to adopt. Of course, he doesn’t know about the nights my wife and I have cried together over our childlessness, how hard we tried, the failed adoption attempts. And maybe he doesn’t know that there are plenty of people with kids who mistreat them. So I think that whether you get to have kids or not has nothing to do with what kind of a person you are. I think there’s something else to it. Dunno what. Wish I did.

Have you ever seen that movie, A Knight’s Tale? My wife likes it because she’s a freak for Chaucer. And she may not admit it, but she likes seeing Paul Bettany walking bare-assed down the road. There’s this one arrogant asshole in the movie who’s always telling the lead character, “You have been weighed. You have been measured. And you have been found wanting.”  Well, that’s the feeling I get whenever I talk to this guy. He’s taken my measure a long time ago and decided that I wasn’t worth the time of day.

Kind of sad, really. I believe that as long as a man or woman is alive and walking on this earth, he or she can change. A bad person can become good. A good person can become bad. And someone in between could swing either way.

I know my flaws. I don’t need anyone to list them off to me, or tell them around the gossip circles. But man, I keep trying, you know?

I’m not a fool. I’m not naive enough to expect everyone to like me; after all, I don’t like everybody. But I just figure that even people I don’t like have good qualities, even if we don’t click. I wish this guy did, because I’d like to be his friend.

So hey, dude, the next time you’re talking about me and my wife, and discussing all the reasons that we’ve turned into heathens, maybe you need to stop and ask yourself if you’re part of the problem. We try to be good people. Like most others, sometimes we fail and sometimes we succeed. But like my wife always says, each time we do fail, we get up, dust off our britches, and try again.

I wonder what would happen if I told him that.

But I already know. I can see it in his eyes.

_______________________

This is fictional but based on some very real people and emotions and situations. I don’t know if it works, but it helps me to write it out.

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I’m getting worse again. This is so unreal. My voice is starting to go out again, and I’m horribly congested and have gobs of nasty drainage. I’m still taking the antibiotic and decongestant the doctor prescribed, but I think my allergies are hitting me on top of whatever this crud is.  I’m cranky about it. Although, I suppose, by the tone of my recent posts, you’d think I’ve been cranky nonstop for the past week and a half.  I haven’t been, honest. Just a little.

We had a great writers’ meeting last night on the Juarez show, and we did a quick run-through of 3 scenes. Two I’m in alone, and one I do with Izzybella. It’s really fun getting to do a scene with my sister, and I’m super excited about our mom coming out to see the show.  My dad and monster didn’t come to the last show, and I didn’t want them to, and some of my friends that I really wanted to come couldn’t make it.  It was disappointing, even though I had so much fun doing the show. So I’m really hoping that my dad & monster, as well as the other two friends who missed my last one, will make it to this one. Dad & the monster were griping about having to drive to Addison (really only about a 40 minute drive) until Izzybella said, “Yep, that is a long drive. (beat) Mom’s coming from Utah!”   Have I mentioned how much I love my sister?

In honour of Independence Day, we got a free jeans day at work (yay) and we’re having a spread.  I usually never hear about these things in advance, but my friends took pity on me and called to make sure I knew. So yes, I’m in my jeans. And I actually got to bring some really good cheese & crackers for the spread. Keebler has some really tasty garlic flavoured crackers that have a little well for spreading toppings on. I like them. Not the healthiest things in the world, but very tastealicious.

Speaking of things that are tastealicious, Soleil and Izzybella and I had fun last night planning our various upcoming marathons. We’re watching the first four Harry Potter movies back to back on Saturday after our meeting. And after the Harry Potter madness is over, we’re planning to have a Buffython at least once a month. We were thinking of fun eats for the marathons. I mean, you have to have cheese for the cheese guy, right? And chocolately goodness. And more caffeine and sugar than the body can handle.

Last night for dinner I turned Sunday’s leftover vegetable soup into a shepherd’s pie. I drained off most of the broth, and sauteed some garlic, squash, and zucchini in a skillet. Then I added in the remaining soup mixture and some cabernet sauce and heated it through while I made mashed potatoes. I thought it was really good, and Joe commented only once about the lack of meat. Soleil and Liz ate some too, but I’m not sure how impressed they were. Oh, well. At least I’m cooking again, right?

I bought the Harry Potter movie tickets today for our little group of midnight revelers. It’s actually next week! One week from tonight, at 12:01 a.m.! Squee! And then the book the week after that. It’s almost too much bliss to handle. 

In the meantime, though, I need to get off book for the Juarez show. And I got some of the books for my various reading challenges yesterday, so I’ll be doing some reading. And cleaning, on account of how I’m going to have people over to my house for various events. So I’ll be busy. Busy is good.

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Book Review: Coraline

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Coraline, by Neil Gaiman, is a delightfully creepy little story. Coraline and her parents live in a house that they share with some delightfully eccentric neighbours. There are the two former actors who like to reminisce about their glory days. And there’s the man with the mice. They all keep calling her “Caroline,” which does not please Coraline at all, and they never seem to listen when she corrects them. 

Coraline likes to explore things. She spends a lot of time outside until that fateful rainy day when her mother forbids her to go outside. Like most kids would, she whingingly asks what she’s supposed to do. Her mother gives her a list of suggestions, none of which please Coraline. So she goes to her father and asks permission to go outside. When he learns that her mother has already forbidden it, he refuses to give his assent. But his suggestion of what to do on that rainy day pleases Coraline a bit more: explore the inside. Find out how many doors there are, how many blue things, and a few other tasks.

Coraline does so, and is very puzzled by one door that does not open. She goes to her mother to find out what it goes to, and her mother tells her that it goes nowhere. Disbelieving, Coraline makes her skepticism so obvious that her mother digs out the key and opens the door that opens to a brick wall. When the house had been subdivided to make separate living areas, the wall was placed there to prevent access to another part of the house. Her mother doesn’t lock the door, telling Coraline there’s obviously no need to do so.

Coraline gets a mysterious warning from the man with the mice. His mice, he tells her, told him to give her a message: she’s not to go through the door. Coraline is puzzled, but politely brushes him and his warning aside.

What Coraline finds when the brick wall disappears and she goes through to explore the other world, and the adventures she shares with an intrepid cat as her companion, make for a delightfully creepy tale. 

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