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Rob Zombie's
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Saturday, Oct. 19, 2002
I was looking back on the most recent entries, which are the ones people are most likely looking at; the ones viewers more often than not become bored with before they get to any meat. And I have to say, posting something for the sake of posting something isn't very interesting at all. I have to keep in mind that pleasing others is not the purpose of this diary. So, eat it, Chachies.

A few days ago, maybe a week ago, I was on the phone with Jane, giving her an update of the female situation. I saw Alundra again, I guess it was last Friday. I had ridden across town to the central Library to see what books were available on Jimmy Carter, or by Theodore White. Her shop is just a straight shot down the street, and by pure chance (yeah, right) it was her day working. We talked for a while, and the whole time I felt like a dorky twelve-year-old trying to talk to some gorgeous college girl. I shouldn't have, but it seemed everything that came out of my mouth had that awkward tone to it. Trying to get a shy, quiet girl to talk about herself is a tricky thing to do if you're a shy, quiet boy. I tried bringing up things she and I could talk about - daylight savings time.... oh, geezuz, have I no grey matter in my head?! I asked about her documentary of Dary's short film production. Nothing. And nothing. "How's the new house?" And, more nothing. *deep breath* One thing Sean always asks, simply as a conversational device, is "Wotter you up to?" So, I asked Alundra, and as soon as the words fell out of my mouth, it sounded exactly like a 12-year-olds request for a date. Unfortunately, there was no hole to crawl into.

Criminey. I shouldn't have been so concerned about it, but trying to show an interest in someone's friendship without crossing that line into stalker teritory is a task best executed most delicately. And I think I was about as confident as a naked guy in half a chicken suit.

I thought about it days later, convincing myself that there was nothing I could do with someone as serious as Alundra. I think maybe that's why she and I just don't have that click. There's nothing wrong with serious; it's just that no play - that is, no sense of humor - makes her a dull girl. Beautiful. Intelligent. Okay. But dull. And that's the end of that investigation. Hopefully she and I will have projects to work on in the future. Until then, she has my number. Gawd, I hate giving up before a definite indication, but maybe that's the way to ensure that things don't get "wierd".

One down. Two to go.

Emily is a friend of Jane's from way back. They went to grade school together and I met them both in high school. Since her New Year's party two years ago, I'd been wondering about the possibilities with Emily, and I thought this summer would be my voyage of discovery. Notsomuch. Although, good things in life don't happen the way you might expect them to.

I think any list of goals ought to be broken down into short-term, immediate needs, and long-term, ideal wants. I'm beginning to wonder whether my mentality regarding Emily has been short-term needs when I should think of her in terms of long-term wants. As well (or, perhaps not-so-well) as I know her at this point, Emily has all the qualities of the kind of person I'd want to spend my life with. Now, hold on, put the phone down. Let me finish. I'm just saying she exibits the qualities of someone I'd want to spend my life with. So far, they're all positives, despite my pissing and whining that she doesn't return my calls. On that note, if anything I learned from Lisa, it's to be patient with a woman who has goals; let her pursue them. It makes her a more interesting person. Well, depending on those goals, of course. And to a great extent, depending on the person, aswell. I found physical therapy facinating. I loved to study with Lisa, even though her courses were like pre-med. But she has got to be one of the most uninteresting people I know. (Maybe I'm still bitter and I say that because I know it's a thorn in her side.)

I'm rambling, aren't I? Well, you know what your name is and you know what you can do.

On the subject of Emily, wasn't I? I'd been recieving eMails from her about activist issues regarding our "president's" insistance on a pre-emptive military strike against Iraq. Nothing personal. Nary a one addressed to me specifically. How fucking annoying.

Then again, after telling Jane all about it, my frustration, my intent to drop the pursuit; after declaring to Alex that Emily has fourteen days (fourteen days??) to get back to me after my offer of going over the rally footage, a geek's idea of something to do together, I thought about everything from a long-term perspective. Emily does indeed have all the qualities of a person I like to have in my life. And, even though she and I don't walk around holding hands, don't make dinner together, and don't gush over the poly-sci section in the bookstore, I'm still really lucky to have recieved a call from her the other day. I looked at the caller identification and let the machine pick it up. When I get back to her, we'll see what happens.

Still hanging in there; what's next....

Bros before hos. There's a code to live by. When I considered myself a "sensitive" guy (read: not gettinany), I also considered my own maturity further developed than those other guys who made an inpenetrable distinction between their buddies, mates, pals, comrades and the females with whome they would associate. I think I was just too accustomed to the female prespective. Not that I would say I'm less sensitive to it now. Though I think I am, day by day, gaining more empathy and appreciation for the male perspective. Now I understand why that separation between the sexes is there.

While I was growing up I was most heavily influenced by women. I am uncomfortable with saying out loud that I didn't really have other men around to learn from. Because it's not entirely true. Except the men that had played recurring roles in my life never stepped up to play the father role. There were men around; other kids' dads or whatnot. Just no one to handle the day-to-day responsibilities. It's as if the men I knew in my youth were all unwilling, or reluctant to step into the role that my own father ignored.

Oh, shit. I thought this was going to be about something else entirely. Well, come what may.

So, the already long point being that I have been generally familiar with a woman's perspective on life, work, living and politics from a very young age - not, mind you, that I understand that perspective - it has, nonetheless, given me a feminine prejudice toward the typical (American) male social behavior. Now that I'm understanding guy culture as I grow up during my late twenties (oh, gawd), I'm becoming so much more comfortable with my natural inclinations toward selfishness. (As I think about that, one could also argue that my learned feminist inclinations are rebelling against the traditional role of the "caregiver", expending my energies to serve my own goals instead of sacrificing my happiness to serve the approval of others. ...christ, I'm going to hate this entry in the morning, aren't I? Drink up, lad.)

So. What is it I'm getting at? I'm not sure. I guess it's this: no one has a grip on truth, no matter their politics, gender, sexual orientation, socio-economic status, whathaveyou. In life, there is no right or wrong, only relative interpretations of truth. Our most human inclination to establish rightness or wrongness of truth - the very spark of so much conflict on this planet - is nothing...nothing more than a means to create meaning for our exsistance.

Okay, anyhoo. I'm building a defensive rationale for the situation I'm in right now. A situation that I know, four weeks from now, I will not want to be in. And, from experience, I know the longer I stay in it the more difficult it will be to leave the situation.

Jane left a message on my machine last week while I stood by and listened. I explained a day or two later that I was, um, "busy" at the moment she'd called. The news was not as exciting to her because it was, I confessed, one of those empty situations that presented itself so easily. There was no way a sane man in my position could pass it up. The only way to deny our naturally biological urges is to go insane. And that's not much fun, believe me. Because I have a damn good imagination.

Alright, so I'm fucking a girl that I really don't care about. I have finally, after too many moons, found desirable flesh in which to plant the meaty twinkie. Wow. That was crass. But accurate of the, uh, situation. Eat it, Chachies. Once your sex life - or lack thereof - becomes topic of conversation amongst friends and family, fulfilling those most basic desires - not to mention those expectations - takes priority over "right" or "wrong".



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