Aegri Somnia

Back on Earth

2008-08-15T09:26:22Z

Holy crap! Now THAT took way too long!

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm officially back. Back in Phoenix, yes, but more importantly, back to my old self. And what a trip it has been.

Have you ever been constipated? Like really, really constipated? Now imagine that happening in your head for about two YEARS. That’s what I’ve been going through. For two years now, I’ve eaten, slept, breathed, and functioned as an academic. I’ve put hundreds of hours into my graduate work, reading over a thousand articles and books to make sure that I have every last single detail about my thesis correct. I’ve pored over that document time and again, making sure that everything was right, only to have it slaughtered by my committee. But now, I’m glad to say...I’m done.

I finished my thesis last week. The manuscript was signed off on, the copyright was submitted, and the document is in binding. For all intents and purposes, I’m done with grad school. My degree should be awarded soon, and I’ll officially be out of the university system, at least for the time being.

And this means I now have to find a job. I’m still doing some part-time work at the print shop, but I need to find gainful employment that pays more than peanuts. I’m casting my net pretty wide, but I’m also taking my time doing it. I think that, after the mental beating I’ve been taking for so long, I deserve a little bit of a break. As such, I’ve been spending a lot of time reading for recreation, watching movies by the boatload, and writing for fun. I forgot how enjoyable putting words down can be when you don’t have an academic gun pressed against your head.

I’ve managed to get quite a few journal entries written over the past few months, but I’ve never gotten around to posting them. I believe that I’ll start throwing them up shortly. They’ll be backdated, but at least they’ll be there!

-Z

Goodbye, Traveler

2008-04-18T09:41:29Z

As part of my catching-up online, I'm clearing some of my old E-mail addresses out of my address book. I'm only deleting a few, mostly people who I have mailed a few times over the past few months and never heard back from. Sometimes people just disappear, at least digitally. It happens.

I'm in the "W" category as I run across the name of my old friend Charlie White. I hesitate on his name before hitting the 'delete' key.

Charlie and I have been friends for about a decade now. He was older than I by about forty years, but our age difference never came into the picture when we sat down for lunch. He was the most jovial guy you could imagine, and a nice chap to boot. But the most memorable aspect of him was his love, lust even, of the road. He was the penultimate traveler, always jetting from one location to another. No matter where you were going, it always seemed like he was just there. Prague? He was there twice a year, minimum. Bangkok? He could recommend all of the good restaurants. Madison? He "dropped in" recently, just to see what it was like. His stories were phenomenal, and his adaptability and passion for travel served as models for me in more ways than I can count.

A few weeks ago I received a call from my father saying that Charlie was in the hospital. "He's pretty sick," my dad stated in a rather unworried voice. "He was just admitted today, but he's not doing so well."

Hm, I thought. Odd. Charlie just got back from somewhere in Asia, and he was getting ready to go to Spain in less than a month. I hope he recovers fast. Airfare is miserable these days, and rebooking international tickets is horrific.

Less than 24 hours later, I received a second call - Charlie was dead. He lasted less than three days in the hospital before he was gone. From what we gathered from his relatives, he apparently had some sort of blood cancer. He knew about it for a while, but it just now caught up to him. He never told anyone, but I'm not surprised - that was just not Charlie's way. He always lived life on his own terms, and travel was always his first priority.

The funeral was that weekend, and it was a surprisingly social event. There were not that many people there, but those that did come were able to give all sorts of stories of the places that they ran into Charlie, or where they traveled with him to, or the small gifts he brought back to them when he returned from some far-flung place. They even had a giant world map with pushpins stuck in wherever Charlie had been, and people updated it with more pins as they reconstructed his adventurous life.

I want a giant map when I die.

It was very odd seeing Charlie in the coffin. He looked much more pale than usual, and his makeup was a bit pasty. Frankly, he didn't quite look like the Charlie I remembered. Not bad, mind you, but just far too still. I half-expected him to start swearing and get out of the box, grabbing for his glasses as he headed out the door. When they shut the lid, it sounded so final.

I've seen friends and family members pass on, but I can't remember the last time I had such a strange feeling at a funeral. I lost a mentor, which is a markedly different experience than losing a loved one. It creates a different sort of hole inside of you, one that you can't really fill with grief.

Even now, as I prepare to delete his E-mail address, my finger struggles to press the button. I know that I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. He was the one who talked my parents into letting me remain in Europe after my first trip there went horribly awry. Were it not for his support, I would never have turned out to be the person I am today.

...

Godspeed, traveler, and safe journeys. No matter where you go now, part of you will always be here safe with us.

Charlie White
10 August 1940 - 26 February 2008

-Z

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned...

2008-04-16T20:30:38Z

It has been many, many months since my last confession...

I have to admit, I've been far too lax about my journal entries. I've semi-written lately, but nothing of real substance. I have some back-dated pieces that I may or may not post, depending on how motivated I get. Considering I'm only logging in right now because I'm having a shockingly dystopic day, I won't make any promises.

I can rehash all that has happened in the past few months (year?), but I'll save that for another day. I have many stories running around in my bean, some of which are more memorable than others. I got married. That's a big one.

But I digress...

I knew that today was going to be different when stepped away from my computer for the first time in hours and realized that the sun was already shining. I had missed sleeping once again. My academic work consumes me so much at times that I forget all else. It's not healthy.

It had damn well better get published. That's all I have to say.

I found a half-penny in the street on my walk to the university. It had been run over by cars so many times that it was sliced in two. It was battered, but it still mostly kept its shape. I empathize.

I broke the typewriter at work the other day. I had dropped it off of the file cabinet when moving a table, and when it finally reached the ground after bouncing off of three separate desk and drawer planes its internals were crushed into a heap of keys and ribbon. I felt bad, so I bought a new one for the office. I made the mistake of telling someone here, and just a few minutes ago I was berated by the purchasing agent for making an unofficial "gift-in-kind" to the university. By doing the socially and morally responsible thing I have, in effect, gone against the bureaucracy.

Never go against the bureaucracy. I have been warned.

(sigh)

This year has, in many respects, been little more than an extension of the last. But the winds of change are upon us. All will change course in under two months. Mark my words.

More to follow.

-Z

havergal13 @ 2008-01-29T02:55:00

2008-01-29T09:37:50Z

No, I'm not dead yet.

More to follow soon. You'll see why later.

-Z

Grant me!

2007-09-27T10:26:09Z

My paperwork bundle for the biggest grant of the year is finally done and in the proper hands. I can rest...sorta...

I need to get my thesis proposal edited and back to my committee members. I was aiming to have it done today, but I'm likely not going to get to it until tomorrow.

Eh. It doesn't matter. That grant was a huge burden to write, and now that it's done I have a great weight off of my shoulders. I hope that I get it, too - if I'm awarded the full amount, it breaks down to about $240 per hour for the amount of work I did.

-Z

Art and Prose

2007-09-27T10:25:07Z

It's Monday morning, I haven't slept, I've been writing a stupid grant proposal, I still need to come up with an abstract to complete the thing, and I'm so frigging overtired that I can barely register what is going on around me. The best part is that it's just now the beginning of the week, and according to my calendar I'm going to be moving at this rate for the next four days.

What a kick in the cubes.

The weekend has not been lost, however. I had a great time Friday night at the club (Scandalesque was performing), drinking a few nice glasses of scotch and at one point finding a $20 on the floor. I plowed through work on Saturday, and for the first time in months I managed to get my E-mail inbox below 30 messages to be addressed. On Sunday, I had lunch with my sister (a rare event), and she and I went to the opening reception for the new Tempe Center of the Arts complex. And the kicker came this morning, when I went to the school and found my thesis proposal in my box, with a pleasant little sticky-note on it that read in part "needs corrections, but fix and distribute to thesis committee."

My chair, the most impossible woman in the world to please, has (tentatively) accepted my proposal.

As soon as I write my abstract and get my strength back, I'm going to do a little dance.

-Z

Blow Out

2007-09-27T10:23:40Z

This weekend hasn't been a disaster per se, but it has had its share of minor catastrophes. I went to Los Angeles to play cards, and though I had a good time I also had the living crap kicked out of me in nearly every game I sat down to. It wasn't even funny how much of a drubbing I experienced. I must have been part of a dozen different games, and I didn't win a single one of them. I'm chalking it up to learning the hard way, and I've already begun to review my playing style and methodology. Still, though, it was a humbling experience.

I had bad omens about the drive to LA even before I left the apartment. For some reason I kept feeling like the trip would be dangerous, a notion that was reinforced when we passed two separate accidents on the interstate that both involved flipped vehicles. The first one already had the medic helicopter on the scene, and the crew was trying to extract people (bodies?) from a car on its side. The second was some 20 miles up the road from the first, and it must have happened less than a minute before because people were still pulling off to the side of the shoulder. Several drivers were tending to a woman sitting nearby, and as we passed she appeared to be intact but very much in shock. A few others were working on getting what looked like car seats from the back of the vehicle, which happened to be on its hood in good-sized debris field in the left lane. Neither looked good from our point of view, and at both scenes my stomach turned a bit when I saw the remains of the cars.

Now I trust my friend as a driver (I wouldn't get in the car with him on a road trip if I didn't), but he has this tendency to drive very fast and weave in and out of traffic without the use of a turn signal. I've chastised him multiple times about this, all to no avail. But I worded my warnings especially strongly before our return trip to Phoenix, and for some reason it my pleas stuck. He took more time and was more careful with his driving, which paid in spades when we hit Blythe.

We had just passed the last exit to the last city in California on the way home when the car in front of us suddenly swerved in the road. I wasn't watching, but Fred (the driver) saw the metal obstacle in our path - a muffler. He also swung our vehicle out of the way, but he didn't miss it entirely. The piece went up under the front passenger tire, shredding it and sending us off to the side of the road. Fred did his best to retain control, and after a harrowing several seconds we ground to a halt on the dirt shoulder.

We immediately got out of the car and did an assessment of the situation. We were shaken but unhurt, which was a blessing in itself. Our transportation (a brand new Subaru WRX), however, wasn't faring as well - damages included a crack in the bumper, a tire that was completely shot, a rim that looked like someone took a sledgehammer to it, and an unknown amount of undercarriage and internal body damage. As the 110 degree heat beat down on us, we weighed our options.

We soon came to the conclusion that we were going to try to get out of there as cheaply and quickly as possible. As Fred began to remove the lug nuts so we could put on the spare, Icalled AAA (membership pays off once again!). Through them, I was able to find a tire shop that was open, no small feat during a holiday weekend. We secured the doughnut on the rather mutilated rim and, gingerly, we got back on the interstate in the opposite direction, back towards Blythe.

I don't know if you've ever visited Blythe before, but it makes south central Phoenix look good. Nearly everything is boarded up or out of business, and many of the structures are falling apart where they sit. The town has a new grocery and the ubiquitous Starbucks, but that is just about it in terms of cleaned-up areas. Tellingly, our used tire shop was on the main road, and that road had more abandoned buildings than functioning ones. Just getting there made me want to lock the doors of the car.

The tire shop didn't have an exact match for our car, but after a bit of negotiating and a few calls to other tire shops we decided to buy it anyway. We had it fitted on, but it wasn't adjusted or rotated, which resulted in a horrible rattle when we got back on the road. We weren't concerned with that as much as the inevitable wear that was occurring on the other tires - the difference between the new one and the other three was small, but it was surely noteworthy. Regardless of these issues, though, we were still happy, for we were moving again.

Our total trip time - nearly ten hours. I had never had a trip between Phoenix and LA go that long. It made me remember just how dangerous road trips can be.

And people wonder why I fly.

-Z

A Surprising Event

2007-09-27T10:21:41Z

I'm so sneaky. No, wait. WE'RE so sneaky.

Mable's birthday was this weekend, and for the last few weeks her friends and I have been planning a surprise party for her. This is no small feat, for Mable has this uncanny ability to ruin surprises just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In fact, I have only been able to surprise her twice before in our relationship. Although I had help, this time makes a third.

For over a week I had been telling her that we were going to a movie on Saturday afternoon. In fact, we were going to Mary's place, where many of our friends (including Liz and Brian from California) had gathered to throw Mable a joint birthday party/bachelorette party. She thought that we were stopping by Mary's to pick her up for the movie, but when she walked through the door she was struck with a coordinated "SURPRISE!" by the people inside.

Now I'm always one for parties, and parties at Mary's are always the best. That being said, I had a particularly exceptional time at this bash. It wasn't very large, but that only lent to its intimate feel. The food, which Liz arranged, was delicious, and (as always) I overstuffed myself. We played some games that on paper sounded stupid (I'm not fond of 'couples' activities), but I actually had fun. And even though we didn't stay out late, I was still so beat by the evening's end that I fell asleep on the couch, the party still dwindling on around me.

Happy birthday, little one. I love you.

-Z

Ill

2007-09-27T10:20:00Z

I rarely get sick, but when I do, I get really sick. Today I remembered just how sick I can get.

I wasn't feeling all that well throughout the day. I was uncomfortably hot, and my body was aching. I knew I was coming down with something, so when I got out of work at nine I went right home. Mable (bless her soul) made me some chilled oranges and juice, and after a shower I climbed into bed.

I was faring poorly, and I knew I was going to be in for a wild and hallucinatory night. Mable measured my temperature at nearly 102, and even before I was asleep I was sweating out everything in my body. She wanted to run me to the hospital, but I deferred - if I could make it through to morning, I would be okay. I didn't want to take any prescriptions or medications, because I wanted my system to fight it naturally.

Hesitantly, she let me sleep, but not before taking my temperature several more times. It was the only thing I would let her do.

I thrashed, I stuttered, I sweated so much that it went through my sheets and comforters into my mattress, and...the next morning, I was okay. It took another full day afterwards for me to be totally back up to speed, but I made it through and I didn't need to do anything except eat citrus and ride it out.

Happy day for the immune system.

Now to get back to work.

-Z

Lifestyles isn't just a condom brand

2007-08-18T04:02:37Z

Dad's out of the hospital, but he's not out of the woods. The good news is that he's stable; the bad news is...well, there's plenty. The docs say that the best thing for him would be a brain transplant into a new body, as he's done a pretty good job hatcheting up this one. He needs to lose some weight, exercise more, seriously de-stress, and, above all, start eating right. The years of a strict meat-and-cheese diet have done holy hell to his arteries, and he has complete blockages in several and partial blockages in the rest. One of the docs went so far as to say that he was amazed that Dad was still walking and breathing, in fact.

So that's what it is. Dad has a choice now - either he can change his lifestyle and work towards becoming healthier, or he can start his funeral preparations, as he won't make it another two years without divine intervention. I personally hope he chooses the former, but we've been harping on his need to take care of himself for the longest time, all to no avail.

I hope, dare I say pray, that he turns a new leaf. Though I don't have any specific dates on reproducing, I'd rather like it if my children had a grandfather. Mable's dad passed on years ago, and at this rate my father won't stand the test of time.

Best of luck to you, Dad. May you make good decisions, now and in the future.

-Z

Cardiac

2007-08-16T21:44:29Z

Yesterday my father went in for heart surgery, and the outlook wasn’t good. The doctor says that there are entire chunks of the heart that are dead, and many of the arteries that are connected to it are completely blocked. A ninth stent was put into his chest, although I’m not quite sure where. Mom looked at the films that they took of him, and she said that it was an absolute mess.

I talked to Dad on the phone today. He sounds like he’s trying to make the best of it, but he’s concerned. They’re talking about implanting a defibrillator into his chest, as they’re anticipating another heart attack any time now.

Needless to say, things are a jumble over here.

-Z

A Confession

2007-08-16T21:42:59Z

As any of the readers of this journal have noticed, I have been quite lax in my updating. While the entries are still being written in a relatively timely manner, they’re not being posted until weeks later, at which point they seem somewhat disjointed. This has been going on for upwards of three months now, and the same thing has been happening on my E-mail accounts.

There are two reasons for this. First, sometime between when I left for Cyprus and a week after I got back from Los Angeles, something happened to my internet connection. Actually, something happened to my computer’s hard drive (it constantly grinds now), but whatever it was effectively disabled my network controller, which in turn has left me without a connection to the information superhighway. Mable doesn’t have a computer, and when I’m at work, school, or anywhere else with a connection I usually only have limited time to upload any writing. So that alone has hamstrung me pretty thoroughly.

The second reason is more pervasive. I’ve hit a strange point in my life where I’m not motivated to do anything. Thesis work has ground to a halt (again), and though I’m attempting to jumpstart it I’m concerned about my lack of progress. My employment has been consistent, but I don’t have the verve for it that I used to. I don’t talk to my family much, and I fear that my relationship is suffering from my miasmic attitude.

I can’t exactly pin what has been the root cause of this, but I have a sneaking suspicion that all of the pressure I’ve been under for the last six months has resulted in the roof caving in on me. For those who have the opportunity to see me on a semi-frequent basis, they know that I’m not going out like I used to, not answering my phone calls quickly, not making any serious effort to be social. I used to just want to read; now I just want to sleep.

I think that I’m in a rut.

There may be hope for me coming from an unanticipated place, though. School is about to start up, and though I’m not taking any classes this semester, I will be in the classroom as a TA for Roman Art. This means that I’ll be having a more rigid schedule, and because of this I’ll have to plan my life more methodically. I drew up a little spreadsheet in order to organize myself, and I’m actually feeling pretty good about it. Now I just have to make sure that I don’t deviate from it, and I’ll break from this torpor-like stupor that has hindered me in every way, shape, and form.

As for the stress factors, unfortunately, nothing can be done about them. I’m pretty much assuming that they’re going to keep up if not increase, and it may get really interesting in the life of Z shortly.

Wish me luck.

-Z

Wave of Lethargy

2007-08-16T08:06:54Z

By all accounts, Friday was one of the best Sadiscos ever put on. And I didn’t make it.

This past week has been one extended nightmare after another. I’ve been working like a madman at the print shop, but worse than that I’ve been housesitting for my parents. I love the fact that they have cable, and free food, and an air conditioner that blasts at 50 degrees. But they also have a little dog named Coco, and that rat of a creature has made my life a living hell for the last five days.

Coco isn’t necessarily a bad dog, but she is tireless. She is always bouncing around and jumping on the bed when I try to sleep, which has resulted in physical exhaustion on my part. Worse, she is a nervous little thing that has a tendency to urinate all over the place for no particular reason whatsoever. This has caused me to be concerned about leaving her in the house for any extended period of time, which in turn has made me rush back and forth from my daily commitments. Thus, I’ve experienced a great deal of psychological exhaustion as well.

So despite the fact that my stay at my folks’ place could have been a mini-vacation, it was more of an extraordinary chore that deprived me of all types of rest. Accordingly, after working more than forty hours this week and not getting more than fifteen hours of sleep in five days, when I got off of work at ten last night, I went back to my apartment, took a shower, and fell face-first onto my bed, not to be roused until almost noon the next day.

Damn it. I really wanted to go to the show last night, too. Combichrist was playing, and I have no idea when I’ll see them again.

-Z

More shameless work idiocy

2007-08-16T08:05:37Z

It’s a Saturday, and I’m trying to shut down the shop. I’ve been dealing with jackasses all day, but the kicker comes with twenty minutes to go. Two women walk in, hand me an Ipod, and say, “we need some programs done.”

“Programs?”

“Yeah. About a hundred of them. In color. Folded and stapled, and they have to cut down, too. We need them for a festival tomorrow morning. The file is on here.”

I ponder the Nano in my hand for a second, and then press the manual buzzer in my head. “Sorry, but no,” I reply.

They look floored. “No?”

“No.”

“But WHY?!?”

I set the Ipod on the counter. “Three reasons. One, a job of that size takes a few hours just to run, not counting any of the bindery work. We would usually give it one to two days for a turnaround. You need it tomorrow. It won’t be done in time. Two, we’re not open tomorrow, so even if we were to somehow get it completed, we would have no way for you to get it. Our store computers aren’t on then, and we don’t have any weekend pick-up or delivery service. And three, we’re closing at five, which is twenty minutes away. There is no night staff on Saturdays, which means that I’d be the one who would have to stay late to do it. And I can’t stay late today.”

They turn to each other and whisper something, and then one turns back and says, “Thanks, we’ll just take it to Kinko’s.”

As if that would sway me. I smile and say, “No problem. Good luck!”

They’re going to need it. I know what Kinko’s can and can’t do, and they don’t have the high-capacity color machines to get that kind of run completed by Sunday morning.

Heh. I didn’t even quote them a price. They’d crap themselves if they knew that a job of that size and complexity would cost nearly a grand, not even figuring in any rush fees.

The lesson to be learned from this is easy – plan ahead. If you know what you’re going to need, get it in early. There’s always the chance that your deadlines won’t be met if you wait. Remember, people – an emergency on your part doesn’t necessarily constitute an emergency on mine!

-Z

Scandalesque

2007-08-16T08:04:04Z

Last night was a trip. As is my oft-usual ritual, I met up with a few friends after work and went to Tranzylvania for the ever-entertaining goth night. This night was supposed to be special, as the ladies from the burlesque troupe Scandalesque were to be performing. Although I was slightly late getting there (Mable took slightly longer with her “Japanese schoolgirl” costume), we had seats reserved for us and were able to sit down just after the show began.

The girls of the troupe are hot. I mean, really hot. And limber, too. And scantily clad. And hot. And they dance and strip and do acrobatics that make me wish I had abs.

And did I mention that they are hot? Well, they are. Very.

I was seated alongside the center aisle, and I could get an eyeful of each lovely lady as she performed on the stage; moreover, as they utilized that particular aisle for parts of the performance, every time one would pass by me I was able to get very up close and personal with her. It was because of my proximity that at one point, with Madonna’s “Erotica” running through the speakers, I found one particularly stunning girl in a black bra and a white mask standing next to me, running a riding crop across my chest. I certainly didn’t mind the contact, although I must admit that I nearly jumped out of my chair when the cell phone in my pocket began vibrating. I wasn’t anticipating that stimulation, especially as it happened just as she gave me a gentle smack with the business end of the whip.

At intermission I went out and checked the number on the phone. It was my mom. I gave her a ring back, hoping it wasn’t important.

“Hey mom,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I just had a question about hotels in Italy. Are you busy?”

“Well, sorta. I’m being smacked around by a nearly naked girl with a riding crop. What do you need?”

There was a pause, and then she said, “You’re kidding, right?”

“Um...no.”

The voice paused again, and then simply said, “Oh, then I’ll make this quick.”

...

You have to love my mom. For as crazily uptight as she can be, sometimes she just shrugs her shoulders and goes on with life. If only she would do that more often, my existence would be exponentially easier.

Now, let’s just see if I can avoid developing an oedipal complex from this incident...

-Z

They’re idiots. And they’re breeding.

2007-08-16T08:02:41Z

Sometimes, during my oh-so-hectic workdays, I give pause to ponder about the seemingly endless masses of morons that surround me. Today, I had two such opportunities occur back to back.

It’s eight at night, and I’m trying to get out on time. Scandalesque, one of the local burlesque troupes, is performing at a local club, and I’ve been itching to go see them. The stars seem to be in alignment, and I can escape early. But lo and behold, the phone rings, and I, the unwitting sucker, picks it up.

The woman on the other end has a pleasant-enough voice, one tinged with a British accent, but in her very English way is explaining to me in a very irritated tone that five of the sixteen books that were shipped to her conference today are missing. I pull up her account, and I determine that, indeed, only eleven of the sixteen were sent. I offer to look into the situation, but I’ll need to check with the manager as to what can be done. The books need to be in Carlsbad, California by tomorrow morning, and the freight companies are already out for the weekend.

I take her number and call the manager, who happens to be at a conference in Las Vegas. He is quite upset, as I’m interrupting his evening show, but he tells me to get additional quotes from other companies, and perhaps we can send them by a smaller carrier. He also tells me to get in contact with the sales rep on the job, who is still in town. I do both, working up several quotes and leaving a message for the rep, who calls me back minutes later.

At the rep’s insistence that the books were indeed shipped, I browse the system and am able to pull up a second invoice that was separate from the first one. I pull its tracking number and get on the UPS website. According to the site, the package was delivered at 4 PM today. Which means it’s where it should be.

I call the customer back and tell her that the second package, the one containing her missing five books, was delivered as scheduled. She says that she can’t confirm that, and to verify the address that it was shipped to. I then get off of the phone with her and call UPS, get the address, and call her back. It’s the right address.

At this point she volunteers some critical information – the people that are supposed to be picking up the package, the ones at the conference in California, haven’t arrived at that address yet. She’s not there either. She’s in Phoenix. No one is at the hotel.

The conference materials have arrived ahead of the participants, and the participants can’t find them because they’re not at the conference.

Right.

It takes a minute for the gears to grind in her head, but she eventually gets it without me having to refer to her in any derogatory ways. She laughs, and thanks me for my trouble. Through gritted teeth, I thank her for her business and get off of the phone.

I don’t even get away from the counter before the next customer makes it in the door. She’s picking up the reprints of her wedding invitation envelopes, reprints because she put the wrong address on the first set. As she totters back and forth in front of the register, clutching her second trimester belly and chittering about how the wedding is going to be good, I notice that she’s misspelled the city name of Avondale. I don’t even bother to inform her of it.

It’s now five minutes before I have to go, and I’m just getting to my closing duties.

(bitter)

-Z

Home Invasion

2007-08-16T08:00:39Z

Today I was walking across my front room, and I saw this little pink line on my carpeting. Considering I usually keep my carpet immaculate (a trait I inherited from Mable), I reached down to grab the inch-long blob and...it took off running.

When I finally cupped my hand over the thing, I slowly parted my fingers to reveal the smallest pink lizard I have ever seen. It was less than half of the length of my index finger. And I have no idea how he got inside.

After a quick relocation, I now have a new tenant on my balcony. Now if only I could train him to eat pigeons as well as insects...

-Z

The Groove

2007-08-16T07:59:13Z

I’ve been back for about a week, and already I’m in the groove. This is both good and bad, for a variety of reasons. It’s good because it means that I’m back on my research, back seeing friends and catching up with acquaintances, and back taking care of things with my family. It’s bad because I’m back reading and not exercising, back eating whatever passes by me (read: unhealthy food), and back worrying about projects I cannot possibly gain control over (read: everything).

I swore when I was leaving Cyprus that I would go to the gym every day when I returned. I have THOUGHT about going to the gym every day since I’ve been back, but I haven’t set foot in it once. The same goes for swimming in the pool. It’s inexcusable, really, because both are less than a hundred feet from my front door.

If only there weren’t so many papers on my floor. I could walk away from them easier...

-Z

Day 41: And on the seventh week, he rested...

2007-08-16T07:57:19Z

And thus endeth the tale of ye goode Z and his lovely maide, whom had traveled greate distances over mountaine and deserte, and seene the far reaches of the Pacifice oceane, and had many wonderous adventures togethere...

But seriously, it was a good run. We had a great deal of fun, and I managed to experience somewhere that, though I’ve visited before, I can remember nothing about. I met a few people I didn’t know, returned to some that I did, and spent quite a chunk of quality time with the girl that, luck be willing, I’ll be marrying in but a few short months. I say luck be willing because, despite my best efforts, there may be some little bit of paperwork that I somehow overlooked in this maelstrom of documents.

Eh. There’s always the option of a civil ceremony in Vegas...

It’s good to be home.

-Z

Day 40: East is East

2007-08-16T07:55:01Z

Unless it’s south. Then the I-10 runs south, not east, despite what the signs say.

Although we were exhausted from the night before, we hopped up early so we could get home by a reasonable hour. The friends’ place locked and the tubby cats properly kissed goodbye, Mable and I shuffled into the car for the great escape from California. I let her blow through the first legs, and I grabbed the end ones headed into Phoenix. We went straight to my parents’ house so I could get my car, and then we made the quick drive to our apartment. After re-entering for the first time in weeks, we unpacked a bit, slept for a tic, and then unpacked some more. It was a nice, quiet resolution to a long trip.

-Z

Day 39: Runaway Bride (or, How to Shoot Yourself in the Foot on the Most Important Day in your Life)

2007-08-16T07:53:13Z

Okay, so I’ve been dealing with all of this nonsense for the past two days, and I’ve been pretty fed up with it. Surveying all that has been around me, I’ve pretty much predicted a disaster, likely one that is marked by flames and obscenities. Imagine a combination between the Hindenburg and the Sopranos.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, people of all ages...I’m here today to say that I’m eating my own words.

To my absolute amazement and consternation, the wedding went off wonderfully. Several of the predictions that I had made did indeed come to pass – expensive glass items were broken, clothes were dirtied, cues were missed. But to my incredulity, the bride demonstrated a resounding amount of patience and good humor, especially when dealing with the aforementioned mishaps. Quite frankly, I was anticipating having to run for my life at some point during the ceremony and/or reception. But she was golden, her finer traits shone through, and I sheepishly admitted that my doom-and-gloom prognostications were but idiotic night terrors on my part.

The wedding itself was quite beautiful, and there were only a few changes that I would have personally made. The use of creams and reds as a color scheme were particularly striking, and while the site for the wedding itself was good, the reception hall wherein we dined afterward was gorgeously bedecked. The use of roller coasters as a running theme sort of fell flat (most people didn’t even notice the roller coaster picture centerpieces, and I don’t know if a roller coaster as a metaphor for a wedding and/or marriage is quite proper), but the copious use of roses and rose petals throughout the affair were magnificent. I personally wanted to slap the minister for being patently dry and cloying during her speeches, and I know that Mable was slightly nervous about having her name mentioned by the woman during the ceremony. The food was fantastic, and the wedding cake was one of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. I certainly didn’t want to go home when it was all over, and though we left at half past ten I would have stayed longer if the bride and groom would have been there. Unfortunately, Mable and I had volunteered to take the wedding gifts back to their place for them, and after a lengthy trip down the PCH we spent over an hour trafficking packages from her car to their apartment.

We crashed soon after we got in, with Mable packed into the bed and me surrounded by cats.

Liz and Brian, I have to hand it to you – the wedding was a success. I must apologize for my attitude – you planned it well, and you certainly were able to reap your much-earned rewards. Congratulations.

-Z

Day 38: Runaway Bride (or, How to Shoot Yourself in the Foot on the Most Important Day in your Life)

2007-08-16T07:51:06Z

Last night's already lousy sleep had an especially irritating finale this morning - when I was only half-awake, the bride-to-be blew in the room and started telling me that she was going to need Mable and I to go get more tulle for the decorations for the bridge that she was going to walk down, as she ran out of gauze last night during her arts and crafts assembly.

Whatever. More than happy to, I guess.

Today we began early, as the first thing on the agenda was the wedding rehearsal. I had never been to a wedding rehearsal, and I wasn't particularly looking forward to this one, as it surely would require me to be attentive, sober, and on my best behavior. It was at this ranch-type place in Malibu, a surprisingly nice choice with tall trees,
hardwood structures, and gardens that were decorative while looking slightly rogue. It reminded me of northern Arizona actually, and was I here on vacation I think I may have actually enjoyed it recreationally.

On a positive note, I managed to escape most of the shenanigans and find a secluded room where I could write. I wasn't needed for the ceremony, and as such the notion of making myself scarce was much desired. I escaped for over an hour before anyone bothered to come looking for me, and even then I was left to myself once they had established where I was. Sometimes it pays when people don't give a crap about me.

When we finally were done with the rehearsal we had lunch at a little Italian restaurant by the beach. The food was decent, but the waitress who was helping us was not only cute as a button but also had the patience of a thousand elephants. She took our two dozen-plus orders with the utmost professionalism and courtesy, and she was always pleasant when answering questions, fixing problems with the meal, and refilling our ever-emptied drinks. And I do mean ever-emptied. The poor girl didn’t have a moment’s rest the entire two hours we were there, and I hope that the groom’s parents (who happened to pick up the bill) left her a generous tip.

I was rather hoping to go home, but all of the girls in the wedding party (Mable included) were scheduled for nail appointments at a local salon. I dropped them off and made sure that they were comfortable before hiding out a nearby Starbucks (ARGH! I SOLD OUT TO THE DEVIL AND BOUGHT STARBUCKS!). Luckily for me, one of my friends happens to live right in the area, so I was able to kill 45 minutes with her before she had to take off for an afternoon date, which meant that my Starbucks-related time only lasted a couple of hours.

We were on our way home when we had to make a diversion to a not-so-nearby Michaels for ribbon. Apparently there wasn’t enough ribbon to properly wrap around the bridge posts or something like that, and I had to shell out several dollars for parking to buy a buck’s worth of red ribbon so the tulle was even on both sides of the bridge. I was cursing under my breath during these moments, as I hate parking garages, I hate paying for parking, and I hate driving in Los Angeles, all of which I was able to experience at the same time while trying to track down the ribbon.

We were alone with the groom in the apartment that night, but the conversation was limited to what was on the television. He wanted to watch the Tour de France, and we politely turned off MXC (grr...) so he could see it. I wasn’t up for much bicycle racing, so I called it a night. I figured I’d need my rest, as tomorrow would test my patience to the limit.

-Z

Day 37: Runaway Bride (or, How to Shoot Yourself in the Foot on the Most Important Day in your Life)

2007-08-16T07:34:51Z

This is a three-parter, because I can't possibly explain such a disaster in a single entry. But first, the back story:

Mable's best friend from growing up is getting married. I'll spare you the agony of the details of her personal life, but let's just say that one would probably need a PowerPoint flow chart in order to really understand the idiosyncratic relationship between her, her fiancée, my fiancée, and, by default, me. Regardless of her entertaining yet unnerving existence prior to today, I'm only going to address the aspect a single aspect that affects me directly, the one thing that brought Mable and I to California this weekend and is keeping us here for the next three days - the execution (and I do mean execution) of a wedding.

I know that when most people plan their weddings they undergo a particular type of stress that is completely unique from others felt in life. Part social construct, part media brainwashing, and a whole lot of emotional convolution, this pressure can cause a person to act and react in ways that can at times be illogical and paradoxical. Bad decisions can be made. Patience can be short. Things may be said or done that otherwise wouldn't otherwise even be dreamed of.

That being said, this woman is nuts.

It's Thursday night, and I'm lying on a very plush couch in a quite nice apartment, listing to the mewling of a very cuddly cat as it begs for attention and drifts in and out of my petting arm's reach. The bride-to-be is storming around the room, vacillating between shrilly scolding her near-husband on his lack of participation, weeping profoundly in stress-induced chokes, and muttering to herself how she won't be able to get everything completed before the big day arrives. The other women in the room are unable to console her, and most are sitting by helplessly as she casts herself about like an overdramatized Lear. And, not surprisingly, I couldn't possibly give a flying fig hand less about the whole damned thing.

This rolling disaster has been a tragedy in the making from the onset, as from the initial planning stages she has not been able to see the forest through the trees. The bride is so wrapped up in the details of her wedding, from her hand-blown glass cake topper to her chocolate roses to her party favors to her multi-disk music compilations to her dance practice to her six page Excel spreadsheet of how the ceremony is planned to go (I kid you not), that she has missed the entire point of the event - to profess love to one another in front of friends and relatives.

What a debacle.

I've made mention to Mable several times that this girl needs someone to smack her down and bring her back to earth. For some reason or another, no one around has been willing (or able) to stop her and say, "you're out of your godforsaken gourd and you need to get a grip." Out of deference for Mable, I haven't said anything myself, and I don't intend to - if she wants to drive this thing into the ground, she can do so without my sabotage and/or help. I'm going to get a free meal and several drinks out of this no matter how it turns out. But as my single attempt at humor this evening was met with bristling contempt, I've decided to just lay here and wait to be called on. Should she become lucid enough to request help, I'm more than happy to do so. Otherwise, I only have to ride this storm for three days, and then I can go home.

I'm so glad I'm marrying the sane one.

-Z

Day 36: Z without Zs

2007-08-16T07:31:48Z

We bid adieu to the Bay and returned to Stockton today, but not before making a side trip to Berkeley to see where Mable earned her doctorate. I had never been to the campus before, and as I watched the young people trying to get their bearings, making new friends, and going through the motions of life there, it made me wish that I had a real away-from-home university experience when I was younger. Don’t get me wrong – I’m glad for the life I’ve had, and I wouldn’t change it. But I finished my bachelor’s in about two and a half years, went straight to grad school at the same place, and have never really been anywhere else for school. I’ve always had a full-time job in conjunction with my studies, and I’ve always been older than my classmates. I guess that, in my mind at least, I’ve never felt like I was a student, and as such whenever I see students I feel a bit nostalgic for those tales of fraternities, midnight study groups, and pathetic semester-long romances that surely look better on paper than they do in real life. Call me crazy, but sometimes I wish I were in their shoes, if only to know what that life is really like.

When we got to Mom’s place I took a nap, ate dinner, and sat in front of the computer for several hours playing mah jong. I've managed to battle my way up to $3700, and at this rate I can pretty surely beat the game if I had more time. I left the computer on for Mable's mom, though, so she could perhaps beat it for me. A busy day indeed.

...

I've been regulating my caffeine intake lately, and as such my body's become even more sensitive to the substance. I had a cup and a half of instant coffee four hours ago, and though I don't remember how strong I made it, I've been bouncing off of the walls like John Waters on a crack-induced frenzy. I've been trying to sleep for two friggin' hours now, and all I can do is lie in bed, count the shadows on the walls, and unsuccessfully try not to let my brain go into overdrive.

And I'm freezing cold for some reason. I have all of the covers and blankets on me, and I'm still feeling like I'm sitting in an icebox. Last night I was fine - what gives?

I'm rounding the corner on five in the morning. And I have to drive to L.A. tomorrow.

I really, really need to sleep.

-Z

Day 35: Pes, Pedis

2007-08-16T07:30:11Z

I can never move to the Bay. It's just too damn good for me.

Today Mable and I walked from Golden Gate Park to Chinatown and back, and I was finally able to appreciate why people love San Francisco. Despite the fact that it's expensive as hell and the apartments are small and one drives up and down hills that threaten to destroy your car's brake system and send you hurtling towards your death, the city still rocks. The buildings there have character, something that I can say about very few places. The restaurants are the best I've found anywhere. And the people - well, the people are just plain cool. Unlike nearly every other place I've been in, not a single person in the city offended me in even the slightest way. Even the homeless people asking for change on the side of the road are polite.

We were supposed to go to the Exploratorium today, but after hearing that the Tactile Dome was sold out, we decided instead to engage in our pedestrian trip across the city. We went through several neighborhoods, stopping to have lunch at a great little Peruvian place. We also saw the Palace of the Arts, the marina, the waterfront, Alcatraz (from across the water), and the Golden Gate Bridge. We also swung by my new favorite sundae vendor again, this time for a chocolate chip cookie sundae. Curse you and your addictively delicious chocolate, Mr. Ghirardelli! And curse your attractive flirty European employees, too! ARGH!

Our orientation was east, and our final evening destination was called The Stinking Rose. This particular place is known for specializing in garlic dishes, and as I am a large fan of this particular type of bloom, it was an absolute treat for me to go somewhere wherein everything was cooked with or made of garlic. Ironically, the best dish I found there wasn't even on the menu - the garlic-olive oil spread that was on the tables was absolutely sublime, and I was blessed to be given a copy of the recipe upon our exit.

The walk home was long, but even after more than twenty miles of hiking I wanted to go farther. Unfortunately, all great things must come to an end, and even as our jaunt was concluding I felt just how quickly our time here was wrapping up. As I entered the apartment I remembered that tomorrow we will be leaving San Fran, at which point we will begin our slow journey back.

So it goes.

-Z