Reintegration
I don't normally blog. It was easier when I was overseas. I felt disconnected from my family; my friends. I've always pursued the efficient, and sending updates from a few central locations kept things simple. But in writing here, in writing to the disembodied masses, rather than keep things appropriate for all ages, I went for a lowest-common-denominator of censorship. I relied on my readers to assume that the filth... the scandal... the homoerotic adventure... was meant for some other audience: people more accepting, people less shocked. It's a good way to tell a story. But now that I'm back, I dunno. I can't really motivate myself to keep up to date. I tell one person this, and another that, and by the end of the day, my story's all used up. So this may be my last post for a while. My physician recommended a therapist (at my request, I swear) so now I'll be paying someone to hear this drivel. So get it while it's hot. Enjoy it while it lasts. Take advantage while I'm drunk:
It's been about a week. A week back stateside. I say goodnight with Ambien (thanks India) and wake up to resignation. As fun as my travels were, it was so nice to be back. Reconnecting was like reliving all the adventure, and there was quite a bit to catch up on that I'd missed here. I had gifts to shower and tales to weave. The first few days were just a continuation of my travel. This country felt foreign. I felt like a tourist. But as much as traveling felt like an escape, returning to the office and ... felt like picking off a scab. It's not that the work in India was all that inspiring. Far from it. We were just syndicating our brand of trivial to the untargeted audience; colonialism for the mass media millennium. But it was all new, and it was all theory. Back here I'm inundated with customer complaints and caving conversion. Oh it's really not that bad. If it weren't for the job I'm doing, or the place I'm living, or the bed in which I'm sleeping, I'd have a much harder time complaining. So just wait for one of those things to change. Then you'll see some smiles.
No, no no. It's really not that bad. I'm being dramatic and letting the language get away from me. I've met some great friends down here (thanks OKC) and things are looking up at work. T and I tried a great Moroccan place out in Costa Mesa. She really is charming, and it does only take one good friend to make a place home; even if it is Irvine. So what if she spent the night with R, just a week or two after we broke up? I find it endearing; she obviously has good taste. And A is fantastic. I'm learning so much from her about what games not to play with a late-night rendezvous.
Let me expound:
Ladies, if you meet a boy online, I don't care if he's a cute punk rocker, do not immediately invite him over to your house. If you do succumb to the temptation, do no let him trick you into the I Love You Experiment. Sleep with him, let him tie you up, make him pancakes, but do not sit face to face, inches a part and whisper I Love You to each other. That's powerful magic.
Clearly I'm learning a lot from my new friends down here. So don't cry for me Argentina, I could never be happy without a bit to bemoan.
LA offers endless distraction. My weekend was filled with whiskey, women (I miss you Cedar), and xbox. It's so much fun, I'm petitioning for a bundle: xbox hollywood edition. I'll sell a million. So what if that long drive home gets more difficult every mile? Maybe you only appreciate a place after you've left it? I will try to feel lucky that I can return when the mood strikes. I certainly never had this appreciation when I lived there.
Today was a victory: my physical was clean. I needed just one shot (tetanus: i got bit by a robot). Out drinking with management, I got advice from millionaires, confessions from adulterers, and glares from the hostess. Thursday I spend in Seattle. But somehow I doubt that trip will inspire the kind of narrative that motivates a post. Maybe I'll have some oysters... We'll see.
I don't normally blog. It was easier when I was overseas. I felt disconnected from my family; my friends. I've always pursued the efficient, and sending updates from a few central locations kept things simple. But in writing here, in writing to the disembodied masses, rather than keep things appropriate for all ages, I went for a lowest-common-denominator of censorship. I relied on my readers to assume that the filth... the scandal... the homoerotic adventure... was meant for some other audience: people more accepting, people less shocked. It's a good way to tell a story. But now that I'm back, I dunno. I can't really motivate myself to keep up to date. I tell one person this, and another that, and by the end of the day, my story's all used up. So this may be my last post for a while. My physician recommended a therapist (at my request, I swear) so now I'll be paying someone to hear this drivel. So get it while it's hot. Enjoy it while it lasts. Take advantage while I'm drunk:
It's been about a week. A week back stateside. I say goodnight with Ambien (thanks India) and wake up to resignation. As fun as my travels were, it was so nice to be back. Reconnecting was like reliving all the adventure, and there was quite a bit to catch up on that I'd missed here. I had gifts to shower and tales to weave. The first few days were just a continuation of my travel. This country felt foreign. I felt like a tourist. But as much as traveling felt like an escape, returning to the office and ... felt like picking off a scab. It's not that the work in India was all that inspiring. Far from it. We were just syndicating our brand of trivial to the untargeted audience; colonialism for the mass media millennium. But it was all new, and it was all theory. Back here I'm inundated with customer complaints and caving conversion. Oh it's really not that bad. If it weren't for the job I'm doing, or the place I'm living, or the bed in which I'm sleeping, I'd have a much harder time complaining. So just wait for one of those things to change. Then you'll see some smiles.
No, no no. It's really not that bad. I'm being dramatic and letting the language get away from me. I've met some great friends down here (thanks OKC) and things are looking up at work. T and I tried a great Moroccan place out in Costa Mesa. She really is charming, and it does only take one good friend to make a place home; even if it is Irvine. So what if she spent the night with R, just a week or two after we broke up? I find it endearing; she obviously has good taste. And A is fantastic. I'm learning so much from her about what games not to play with a late-night rendezvous.
Let me expound:
Ladies, if you meet a boy online, I don't care if he's a cute punk rocker, do not immediately invite him over to your house. If you do succumb to the temptation, do no let him trick you into the I Love You Experiment. Sleep with him, let him tie you up, make him pancakes, but do not sit face to face, inches a part and whisper I Love You to each other. That's powerful magic.
Clearly I'm learning a lot from my new friends down here. So don't cry for me Argentina, I could never be happy without a bit to bemoan.
LA offers endless distraction. My weekend was filled with whiskey, women (I miss you Cedar), and xbox. It's so much fun, I'm petitioning for a bundle: xbox hollywood edition. I'll sell a million. So what if that long drive home gets more difficult every mile? Maybe you only appreciate a place after you've left it? I will try to feel lucky that I can return when the mood strikes. I certainly never had this appreciation when I lived there.
Today was a victory: my physical was clean. I needed just one shot (tetanus: i got bit by a robot). Out drinking with management, I got advice from millionaires, confessions from adulterers, and glares from the hostess. Thursday I spend in Seattle. But somehow I doubt that trip will inspire the kind of narrative that motivates a post. Maybe I'll have some oysters... We'll see.
kiwiprincess:
Wow, yeah. I haven't read that book but I really really should. That's totally relevant to me at this point in time. I think if we averaged our lives together we'd end up with something with which we could both be happy.