I'm reconnecting with Alanis. I'm listening to Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie. I feel like I'm in junior high school again.

I've reached that point in my post-surgery recovery process where I'm not really in pain or anything and I'm just waiting to fully heal. Yet, I still took off however much time from work and so I feel bad if I go out tonight. Eh. I don't like this feeling. I'm getting restless at home.

I went on a date today. It was nice. The boy was charming and cute.

I want to go out for a drive. Or go to Muddy's. Maybe I need to call Calvin. Or Ryan. Or hm. OR ALEX. ... Just called Alex, he's not in town. Shit. I'd call Gonzo, but I don't want to deal with the possibility of his family picking up. Emily's busy too. Calvin's not answering his phone, so I assume he's busy with class or work. Just messaged Ryan, we'll see.

I suppose there is Lauren, too. I wish I could smoke right now, but I don't want to get dry socket. Boredom raises my anxiety like nothing else. H usually would be another good option, but his Serbian ass is probably in bed with another Serbian ass. Bitch.

"Would Not Come" is one of the bizarrest Alanis tracks, ever. It just came on and once again I am completely lost as how she came to this melody.

I started reading again. I need to be doing that more often.

Ah fuck, even I'm getting annoyed with this blog entry already. I started writing this however many tracks ago and here I am still jogging things down. Enough is enough, fickle brain.

Adios.

So like remember the 7 page psych paper, 11 page econ/gov't paper, final statistical analysis, and 45 minute psychology video I was supposed to finish for friday? yeah, well, I give up. way to motherfucking go mr. microphone.

ps: ryan's a shetbag.
pss: calvin, cristina, and milenko are awesome. and so is emily but the latter two aren't here :(

I'M A FATHER!

I am now the proud father of a bagel. I'm a bagel daddy! Its name is Jimmy! Calvin named it. I am so happy and I am sure that the mother, whichever of the thirty-seven women I am currently married to that used my sperm donation, is equally so.

But despite our shared happiness, it seems that there are some that want to see my parenting go down the shitter. Hell, some fucker even suggested that my bagel's name is Roundy and that it is in fact a bastard child.

Well I'm here to prove everybody wrong. I am going to sing my bagel "Never Go Hungry" every night. It will grow up to be strong and smart. It will kick that fucker's ass. That and singing "Never Go Hungry" will motivate me to never eat my bagel. Even when I'm sitting at Cosmics at 11PM and am hungry (which I actually am not right now- I'm quite bloated)

Thin Ice and East Coast Flair

Yesterday my mother insisted I spend the night at Calvin's apartment in West St. Paul because I would be closer to school the next morning and therefore avoid extra time in poor driving conditions. While I failed to see the logic behind this, I didn't dare judge the blessing and took the opportunity to eat pizza, watch television and smoke hookah with one of my best buds. This is what I looked like for most of the evening as I sat and watched Current TV while Calvin did his classwork in the other room:

We smoked Tangerine Dream flavored shisha. It hit far harder than either of us were expecting or wanted it to. When I stood up from the chair it seemed like gravity was going to face plant me into the ground, so I passed out onto the conveniently located couch right next to the chair. Clearly I made some bad decisions. Poppa John's Pizza, bee tee dubs is actually pretty good if you order it with extra cheese and sauce. I overate, but Calvin assures me that that's not gross, it's manliness. Ha. For sleeping, I slept on a movable bed/mattress in the middle of the living room. Calvin's dog Andre kept digging himself under the covers and pushing my arm out of the way to make room for him to cuddle with me. Had he not been so cute, I would not have yielded. Likewise, his kitty planted herself at the foot of the bed from time to time. Even though my mother's logic utterly failed, as I had to run home this morning to grab the tie I forgot to bring over to Calvin's apartment, I still had a great time and slept well. Not to mention that there was coffee in the morning. And I like coffee. Thanks Calvin!

And now for something completely unrelated, this afternoon my friend Tom responded to a comment I made about my Economics video project with an insulting array of comments, such as how it went beyond mediocrity to utter shit, and how poor my score would be. Tom, fuck off. I understand that you prefer to be blunt and honest at all times, but there is a big difference between bluntness and insensitivity and/or flat-out rudeness. This isn't the first time your commentary has fallen under the latter category. Unprompted criticism is rude by itself, but if you're not even going to provide even the slightest bit of constructive advice, you might as well shut your mouth. Furthermore, your tactless criticisms call into question why Emily and I even bother responding to any of your business with sensitivity. There are plenty of times I wanted to tell you straight that you were an idiot for stubbornly pursuing Susha when it was evident things wouldn't work out. I never once did, however, because I thought of your feelings first. Sure, I don't care too much about my video. But to have somebody deliver an unprompted full-out criticism of an unfinished product (based solely on a script) within the weekend of its due date is tasteless. In the future, I'd prefer if you were to shove it unless you have something constructive to say.

What a day.

Getting Off, Getting On.

I finally understand my contentment. It all comes down to two things I am always striving for: stability and sexual fulfillment. Maybe those are broad categories everybody hopes for, but I think it's important to clarify that by sexual fulfillment I don't necessarily mean to imply another person. Rather, I can feel sexually fulfilled simply from masturbating. I only need myself. The problem I find is that if I'm masturbating because I'm not with another person, it probably means I'm not stable. Jon Chen, my ex-boyfriend, gave me stability. We got along and we were friends and we dated for eight months, but I wasn't in love with him as much as I was in love with the stability and sense of safety I felt when I was with him. Moreover, he did give sexual fulfillment. When he came back to Minnesota in August, my stability was crumbling quickly. At the same time, I sensed that there were problems when my ex had trouble making me orgasm. Sure enough, we broke up within the next week. At that point, whatever stability I had left completely diminished. So why am I bringing this all up? Why now? Last night, Calvin, Cristina, and I went to Grand Hookah for a few hours. Aside from the intense games we played of Uno (a game where friendships die, by the way- I was called a very colorful variety of names during the game), we being the talkative and reflective people we are, evidently ended up talking about where we are in life. I think that's when I realized why I'm content. I'm both stable and sexually fulfilled. With stability and some porn, I'm set. Sure, that statement's probably a bit crass, but what does it say about how I'm doing? I've come a long way. I'm happy. I have some of the best friends, ever. I got into college. I'm moving to New Jersey (yes yes NJ jokes may now ensue). I'm going to Drew University. And my Jove, I am excited for it all. BRING IT ON.