Leaving on a jet plane
Well ham, Mary Travers of Peter, Paul, and Mary has died. Apparently, she died on the sixteenth, at 72, of complications from chemotherapy for leukemia. Well, there goes another small chunk of my childhood. I always liked their music.
Hold you in his armchair, you can feel his disease
It's been an odd week. Last Wednesday evening, September 9th, I came down with something. I have no idea what it was. I got chills, fever, joint pains like someone knee-capped me, and a headache. I hardly got a wink of sleep Wednesday night. I called in sick Thursday. I spent the day in bed Thursday. Friday morning, I was feeling only a little bit better so I called in again. A couple of hours after that all of the symptoms had faded away entirely. Heh. I love my constitution but I felt guilty after calling in Friday, given that whatever bug I had contracted was in retreat and not destined to hang on until even noon. Ah well.
Once you started wearing those shoes
Friday evening, the eleventh, having shaken off whatever it was, I went to Sacramento and picked up Shannon. We were supposed to go shopping for "interview shoes" for her sometime last weekend but we never got around to it. Neither of us are very good shoppers and we don't have much inclination to do so, outside of certain particular interests, so it is unfortunately all too easy for things that involve shopping to get pushed off the calendar, especially if the need is not immediate or urgent. I need to get Crystal the money for it and ask if she wants to help Shannon find some nice footwear.
Woke last night to the sound of thunder, how far off I sat and wondered
On Saturday morning, September 12th, around 6:30 AM, I was awakened by a loud peal of thunder. A full-fledged thunderstorm rolled through Livermore and lasted a respectable half hour before heading off east. I sat on the floor of my bedroom and opened the window blinds and watched the light show. Thunderstorms are one thing I miss about living in the midwest. The thunderstorms are too few and far between. I love to watch them and did so all the time as a kid. I love the way they make the air smell and how they rattle the windows with thunder. I think the last one I've seen has been nearly a year ago.
I'm learning to live without you now but I miss you sometimes
Sunday morning I woke up after having yet another dream of kissing the ex-wife. This one was the second one in the space of two months. Hello, Brain, what gives? Certainly, they're more pleasant and less unnerving than the one I once had of strangling her. In both of these she is the woman I knew when she was in her early twenties. They were quite nice dreams, as dreams go — the ex was no slouch at osculation, and a fun, exciting woman, when she wants to be — but both of these dreams left me waking up wondering just what in the heck was going on with my psyche.
Don't run back inside, Darling, you know just what I'm here for
So, last Tuesday I wrote to someone on OkStupid again. Heh. Shannon thoroughly disapproves of OkStupid. She claims that it's for people who have no life or no luck with people in the off-line world. Yeah, well... Luck has little to do with anything, in my case; you have to actually be trying to be considered either lucky or unlucky. I've been on that goofy site since January 29, 2004. There are fifteen messages in my sent mail folder. I check up on that site just to look, mostly. I'm tempted to say that I don't know what I'm doing with a membership to that site but I kind of do know. I guess I'm keeping a toe in the water or something.
Maybe it's a kind of mental game I play with myself. On one hand, it allows me to tell myself that I'm doing something about meeting new people when I get to wondering if I want to get myself involved with an intimate relationship again. On the other hand, it allows me to keep my distance, most of the time. I can look at many of the people on that site and tell myself that I'm really not all that bad off being a complacent and contented bachelor! The dating scene can be downright crazy. Sometimes its just fascinating to watch what kind of train wrecks happen in that world and consider myself fortunate that they are not happening to me. On the other hand, to be honest, I occasionally find being alone to be somewhat...unsatisfying or even chafing. The thing is, such feelings strike me infrequently. Most of the time I guess I'm like Shrek, content to live in my swamp by myself and not concern myself with going to the trouble of socializing. I have friends, and they tend to be enough socialization for my mental well-being, most of the time. I think of it as a kind of emotional inertia. I tend to go like gangbusters when I finally am moved. I'm something of a romantic and have a tendency to idealize people who impress me. Nevertheless, it can take a lot to get the boulder rolling in the first place. Why that should be I don't know, but there it is.
I don't tend to get inspired by people easily. Maybe I'm cautious. Maybe I'm a bit gun-shy after considering how well I was able to make marriage work for my former spouse and I. Someone once commented about a dream I related on these pages that maybe it suggested "intimacy issues." Heh. Psychology. Everything is a disease; there is normal and then there is pathology. Balderdash. I prefer to think that everyone is unique. We have our ways of dealing with the universe and everyone is trying to figure life out. Perhaps some people get stuck on certain parts. I'm not so sure that these parts automatically represent something that needs to be "fixed." Things unfold the way they do. We learn to dance to the tunes we each hear. We improvise and learn from each other and work on things as we go. The older I get the more that what is "normal" or "abnormal" becomes blurred. Whatever works, survives.
Sometimes though, my interest does get piqued. I suppose that it's a combination of things, really. I happen to notice someone interesting at just the time I happen to be feeling a bit curious about what it would be like to, well, date, again. Serendipity. Heh. It happens occasionally or else I would have never been married and never reproduced in the first place, although, to be honest, I was a lot more "hormone driven" to extrovert myself when I was twenty-something. So anyway, while browsing along on OkStupid and amusing myself with that site's various ideas of who would be "compatible" with me, I ran across someone...intriguing. It's often difficult to consciously identify what it is that attracts one to someone. I think in this case the thing that caught my interest was her picture. It's not a well-composed shot as it clips off the top of her head. The caption she put on it claims that it is a picture of her when she's sleepy. Even so, she's got an attractive face. It's always the eyes that get me, and they did in this case. This is not a photograph that someone snapped of a sleep-deprived zombie. Also, although the photograph is impromptu and not very composed, the expression on the woman's face is not one typical of an off-the-cuff snapshot. It is not the face of someone who is merely mugging for one more picture of themselves at some locale. When you look at this picture and see the woman's eyes it looks like the lights are on. It looks like she's thinking of something, and not something simple, like a bite of desert or sip of wine she's about to enjoy, but something a bit more involved than the immediate circumstances of the photo. It's a good shot. It's one of those pictures that people sometimes get by accident, or at least it looks that way to me.
At any rate, it caught my interest and her profile read like the work of someone who had some good conversations in her and a mind to sustain them. You can't beat that combination. So, wanting to know a little more about the woman I dropped her a note. Heh. That was last week. She popped over once to check out my profile just after she got the note but I haven't heard anything back. Hmm. I probably should not have mentioned the photo. If it's one thing of which an attractive woman probably does not need one more it is yet another note from a guy informing her, even indirectly, that she is easy on the eye. Ugh. I slipped on the banana peel and landed right on my backside. Derr. So, tomorrow it is one week since I sent her a note. I'm tempted to send a follow-up, just to see if I can manage to repair and shore up the impression the first one left to the extent that she's likely to drop me a line in return. Half of me says that this is a lost cause at best, and a right fool's errand at worst, after all, actions speak for themselves and if she had any interest she would have said something in reply. On the other hand, nothing ventured is nothing gained.