un-fair
adj.
1. Not just or evenhanded; biased.

Sure, my brain may get a lot more use than its opponents, so it should be able to hold its own in a fight, but c'mon, it's two against one, and the other side is trying extra-hard because they know this could be their last chance for victory.

Just when I manage to convince myself that I am indeed losing weight through some mysterious means some guy at work puts up a picture of me looking like a lardass.

Saturday night, while we were waiting for GeneralElectricGuy to show up, LaptopGirl talked about a turtle that wouldn't stay where she'd put it. I said I wondered how annoyed animals (cats, dogs, turtles, etc.) must get when people just pick them up and carry them around.

Like the other day I was going to take a nap on the couch. Buddy always takes a nap with me, and when he didn't come when called, I went and picked him up and took his ass to the living room.

How would we humans feel if there were some higher (or at least much larger) form of life that would just pick us up whenever the mood struck? I don't think we'd like it very much at all.

I can't remember if this conversation happened before or after the conversation that LaptopGirl and I had about whether I was weird or not.

I actually prefer the term "eccentric" as it just seems classier.

I've found myself thinking about my life in terms of metaphors lately. I was comparing some of my recent past to being on a high wire, desperately flailing my arms, afraid (for good reason) to fall in either direction for despair awaited on both sides. This is the worst situation to be in, but it's not the only type of balance I'd had to maintain in my life while dealing with people - especially those of the fairer sex.

When I was young I walked a line painted on the ground. There was no real penalty - other than embarrassment - for stepping off the line. I could just get right back and try again.

A few times I've found myself approaching a cliff's edge, where I could either risk falling or simply turn around and be safe. I've tried both options with varying results. I say varying but here I sit single so I guess the variance was mostly a matter of how long of a drop I had during those times when I did fall.

My marriage was akin to a ledge on the side of a tall building. I knew that if I jumped there would be pain, but I couldn't really stay where I was forever either. Eventually I jumped and, despite the pain I suffered on landing, I'm certainly better off now that I'd be if I were still standing on that ledge.

And now I'm back to my high-wire. Winds buffet me from either side, and every now and then some jerk starts jiggling the wire. He wants me to hurry up and do something so he can have his turn.

The outlook does not look rosy. I could fall to one side and lose what little I have. I could fall to the other side and gain much more - only that side leads to eventual almost certain doom as well. It's just a longer drop on that side. One that I may not survive.

So what I try to do is what we pretty much all try to do at one time or another. I'm buying time. I'm trying to keep walking, as the abyss on either side gets deeper and deeper, and I hope that the wire will eventually get wider. Or that someone will provide a safety net so I can let myself fall and see what happens.

Which way would I fall? That depends on which way the wind is blowing.

em-pa-thy
n.
1. An identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, or motives.

ram-bunc-tious
adj.
1. Boisterous and disorderly.

boon-ies
slang.
1. Rural country or jungle.

Last night, appearing in the role of BigWheelGirl, was yours truly.

My mission, should I choose to accept it, was to accompany LaptopGirl and her friend GeneralElectricGuy to a party at TrainGirl and RealTrainGirl's house - and, I believe, by my presence dissuade GeneralElectricGuy from getting any ideas.

I did choose to accept the mission as, even though it seemed to be a disaster waiting to happen, it did at least represent a promotion from carpool dummy.

Despite starting out with this, perhaps the worst idea in history, everything turned out very well. There were a lot of people at the party and I got to see and do things that just don't come up in my normal boring life:

1. I got to show LaptopGirl the field in Maplewood where I grew up.

2. I got to see a bunch of women mud-wrestle in various stages of dress and undress.

3. I got to hear LaptopGirl play a guitar and sing karaoke. She's just so damn cute when she's shy like that.

4. I got to spray a bunch of muddy women with a hose to remove mud.

5. Finally, I got to verify a legend of sorts when one of my friends from Rich O's did indeed get naked at a party.

My beer last night was a growler (half-gallon) of Smithwick's. Actually I think I had about half of it. It ended up tasting pretty good but I cut myself off pretty early because I'd need to return LaptopGirl to her car in New Albany.

GeneralElectricGuy seemed to me to be a genuinely nice and smart guy that may just be a victim of bad timing. He went to a party where he only knew one person and seemed to enjoy himself. I actually decided that I liked the guy enough that I wouldn't try to lose him in the Southern Indiana sticks as he followed LaptopGirl and me back to New Albany.

stalk
v. tr.
1. To follow or observe (a person) persistently, especially out of obsession or derangement.

At 12:25 today I sent out the following message to my co-workers:

I have twelve bottles of one.6 Chardonnay. I'll give a bottle each to the first twelve people to tell me the names of my three cats.

Hint: Google is your friend.

At 12:33 all twelve bottles had been won, and I had another half-dozen or so correct entries that came in too late.

I think a few of the winners may have been a little too fast - like they already had the information memorized or something.

Scary.

stu-pid
adj.
1. Slow to learn or understand; obtuse.
2. Tending to make poor decisions or careless mistakes.
3. Marked by a lack of intelligence or care; foolish or careless: a stupid mistake.
4. Dazed, stunned, or stupefied.
5. Pointless; worthless: a stupid job.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. - Chinese Proverb

Fool me seventy-three times, what kind of a dumbass am I anyway? - Siltz Extension

Late last Saturday night I was convinced that I would become a social hermit and never again allow myself to be mistreated again.

By Sunday afternoon I had begun to adopt a more reasonable attitude, and that trend has continued throughout the week.

One of my old friends - who taught me a lot about pool and life in general - used to say that to let anyone else's actions affect your own mood was your own fault - not the fault of the other person.

I seem to have forgotten that over the years, along with a lot of other things he taught me.

The thing is, even if though I seem to constantly complain about people and events when I write in this 'blog, I still keep putting myself in the exact same environments week after week. Then the exact same things occur, and I have the exact same reactions.

So who's really at fault here?

I am. I do stupid things for stupid reasons and then I act all surprised when bad things happen.

Since it would be unreasonable to expect that I could stop doing stupid things, I'm going to try the next best thing. I'm going to try to at least stop doing these things for stupid reasons.

Take tonight for example. I COULD go out and see if things are any better - if last weekend was a fluke - but that would be a stupid reason. I know it wasn't a fluke. An example of a non-stupid reason would be to go out because I enjoy it and look forward to it each weekend.

Based on that oversimplified logic I should stay home tonight.

So that's what I'll do.

I think.

A new image made last night that took over 18 hours to render for some reason.

I've noticed that my last several images have been of a similar theme. What I don't know is whether they're supposed to represent a journey towards something or away from it.

Alternatively it could just be that I'm finally developing a more realistic sense of scale and distance in my renderings.

What if I'm not even the one driving?

What if I find out that the driver is a maniacal serial-killer, leaving a trail of death and destruction behind us? Should I jump out of the car while I still can? Would that be rude? Would it be safer than staying in the car with the lunatic?

And what if the person driving is only using me to be able to use the diamond lane?

Huh? How about that?

December, 1995. I was relocating from Seattle to New Orleans for a six-month contract. I packed up my Audi as much as I could and started heading East on December 8th. I was looking forward to the drive at least as much as I was to the destination. I've always liked driving cross-country.

Anyway, after spending the first night in Spokane, I took off early Saturday morning towards the Rockies.

Everything happened so gradually that I just didn't notice until it was almost too late.

At one point - perhaps 10:00 PM or a little later - I realized a few things:

1. I hadn't seen another car in several hours.
2. I was making fresh tracks in about 10 inches of snow.
3. It was snowing very hard.
4. I was in a mountain pass in the winter.
5. I was an idiot.

I briefly considered pulling off the side of the road and waiting for the weather to clear, or for a snowplow to go by, but I really couldn't tell where the edge of the road was. My only indicators were guardrails on one side and steep hills rising up on the other. I had visions of falling asleep in my car and then being buried alive or knocked into a ravine by a passing plow. Perhaps they'd find me in a thousand years and the descendants of Americans would demand that their alien overlords return "Idiot Man" to his sacred burial place inside the Audi.

The slightly better option was to just keep going. After all, this wasn't 1846 and I wasn't the Donner party. The chances were good that I'd see an exit or at least a rest stop before I had to eat my own arm to stay alive.

Several times (too many) my car would hit a particularly slick patch of highway and I'd suddenly be going sideways. Or backwards. These were surreal times - everything seemed to happen in complete silence and in slow-motion. Each time this happened I'd manage to straighten out and continue onward like nothing had ever happened.

All of this repeated several times. I never saw another car. I eventually passed the Continental Divide and entered Montana, but by this time I was pushing my way through at least 2 feet of fresh snow. I did eventually pass a couple of signs promising "Exit 50 - 2 miles ahead" or some such but everything at ground level was completely featureless. I knew I'd be as likely to drive off a cliff as I would be to navigate an unfamiliar exit ramp that I couldn't see.

So I kept going, navigating as much by feel as by sight. The snow flying off my hood allowed only the rarest glimpses of the little reflective markers that lined the right side of the road and were my only friends that night.

I eventually saw that I was going down in elevation more often than not, and that the snow had lessened considerably. At about 4:00 AM I finally saw civilization again. I think it was near Missoula but I'm not certain. I came down a hill and saw a couple of snow plows and a police car facing West and parked at the side of the road. A brightly-lit sign informed any Westbound travelers that I-90 was closed due to inclement weather.

No shit, Sherlock.

A short drive later I finally found myself on a plowed road and I took the first exit I saw and checked into a motel for what was left of the night.

It was certainly an interesting journey, but not one I'd ever want to repeat.

Which brings me to 2004.

Right now I find myself in an eerily similar situation.

There's no mountain pass, no snow. I'm not even sure where I'm supposed to be going, but I still find myself in nearly the same situation.

I've read many times that dreams are metaphors for life. That the brain, trying to make sense of the nearly random firings of neurons that occur during sleep, will often conjure up imagery and sensations that, while not exactly relevant to the waking world, are often a very close approximation. At least if you tilt your head and squint a certain way.

I think that sometimes life can provide its own metaphors.

Like the one I'm experiencing right now.

I once again find myself on a road that, while it was perfectly safe when I started, has become fraught with danger. Unknown obstacles wait around every turn.

I don't even know what I'm doing on this road. I just followed the stream of traffic, thinking perhaps that all these other people knew something I didn't - that there was something worthwhile up ahead.

Every now and then I'll pass a car lying in a ditch, perhaps aflame, a sign of a traveler who should have stayed home. Where it was at least safe.

I know I should get off this damn road. It's leading nowhere, and the snow has started. I should be in my basement shooting pool and watching reality shows instead of out here with all the other lemmings.

Sometimes, however, the right thing is not the easy thing. I'm not alone on this trip. Along the way I've picked up a few hitchhikers. Usually survivors from the crash sites I've passed, but also an occasional fresh-faced youth who seems completely unaware of the dangers ahead.

On that night in 1995 I was responsible only for my own actions. I could have pulled over and hoped for a rescue, but I chose to drive myself out of the mess I'd gotten myself into.

In 2004 I cannot make that choice as easily. I have a responsibility for my passengers. People who for one reason or another want to continue their journeys and expect me to be with them along the way.

I'd love to find a different road. A nice, flat, boring one. One where every hitchhiker isn't a potential serial-killer.

I bet that road would lead somewhere nice. Even if I got there alone, at least I'd get somewhere, and I probably wouldn't kill anyone or be killed along the way.

I can't make up my mind.

With every mile traveled it gets harder and harder to stop, and more impossible to turn around. Some landmarks can only be passed in one direction.

If I just jump out of the car I would certainly be hurt, but would I be hurt more if I kept driving? Would my passengers stop to help, or would someone take the wheel so they could continue unhampered by my misgivings?

What would I WANT them to do?