You ever find yourself surrounded by a group of people, people who you kinda know, but not really? I mean, they're acquaintances, but not much more than that?

You ever listen to them rambling on and on and on, and then suddenly you're struck with the realization that they're all idiots? Or even worse, mindless sheep?

Yeah well, me too.

It's a very revealing realization, and not a particularly good realization.

This is why I remain convinced that talking to and/or listening to people is, generally, a pretty bad idea.

I was just out on my swing, drinking a yummy Koningshoeven Quad (522) and I managed to get excited about writing something. Not anything in particular, though, just a mish-mash of subjects.

I don't like the mish-mash entries. I know that I'm only using them as placeholders. Just so it looks like I'm an active blogger. And I use them to touch upon subjects which really deserve their own entries, but which I'm unable and/or unwilling to write about at length.

For example: Today somebody was somewhere undergoing something. We were a little concerned, but everything turned out okay.

And that's all I can say about that, because it's nobody's business.

Anyway, on with the mish-mash.

---

This morning I was subjected to an interrogation. I evaded the questions as well as I could, but I didn't fool my questioner at all. There are answers that I'm going to have to provide before too much more time has passed. Just to ease some potential concerns if for no other reason. But I need to be able to answer my own internal questions before I can answer any external ones.

Things are complicated, and confusing, and convoluted.

I like it.

---

The ignore game champion of the universe has, apparently, challenged me to another match. I don't know why - her supremacy is undoubted. But I guess I'll play, because I've got nothing better to do.

---

When I was out on my swing just now, that one cat that I call Pete Jr. was there. He was scared of me on the swing, though, so I couldn't get him to come to me.

---

The other night MixedSignalGirl called to let me know that she was moving away Monday morning. Now, she's been gone almost four days. I'm pretty sure that I'm in deep deep deep denial about this. Otherwise I'd be a lot more sad than I am.

I told her everything. About how she's the one. About the rings. She still left. She's still gone. I'm still not as sad as I should be.

---

You guys hear about DeathCat? That cat in that nursing home that predicts when people are about to die?

Pretty creepy stuff, if you ask me.

---

The other day I was accused of being someone's best friend. This was a bullshit accusation, I thought. But, more than that, it put an awful lot of pressure on me to keep doing what I'm doing, and not change a single thing. This pressure is in direct opposition to some other pressure that I'm undergoing. Life is fun.

---

I've been on-call this week for work. This is always a pain in the ass, but this week it's been especially irritating because most of the problems which have arisen have been problems that I can't do a damn thing about.

---

Being on-call also means that I can't go to this dealie that my sister is having on Saturday, because I don't get any signal on my Blackberry at her house. This is annoying enough under normal circumstances - I feel like a caveman or something, being all cut off from the world like that. But when I'm on-call, I must be able to get text messages at all times or I'm screwed.

---

I spend about 33% of my time worrying about one thing, and about 33% of my time worrying about the exact opposite thing. For the remainder of my time, I'm free to worry about whatever suits my fancy.

What the fuck is a fancy, anyway? Sounds dirty to me.

---

I guess that's it for now.

I've used the mosquito metaphor before here. Hmmm, almost exactly a year ago. Weird.

Anyway, I suppose that's a lot of what's going on with me now. Just a bunch of little things, and no overshadowing big thing to occupy my mind.

One thing that I thought about today, as I sat at Rich O's - Rogue Chocolate Stout (2136) - after work, my brow still furrowed, was that I'm starting to see some disturbing parallels. Disturbing because parallel tracks quite often lead to the same destination. And I certainly don't want to go to that place again. Ever.

So that's part of it, certainly. But I also think there's something else. Along with the obvious (to me anyway) similarities, there are also quite a few glaring differences. Problem is, I think, that I don't really notice the differences except every now and then. Just once in a while, I'll remember something. And it kind of hits me harder than it should. Just for a second though.

For example, say you're lying on your back, with a book on your belly. No big deal, right?

Now have someone pick up the book and drop it onto your belly. A little uncomfortable, isn't it? But it only lasts for a second.

Now have that same somebody pick up and drop that book every ten seconds for hours and days at a time.

Well, that's a really horrible analogy. Maybe I should have used the Chinese water torture instead. But you readers are smart. I'm sure you get the gist.

It's not that the differences are bothering me. The differences will probably be what keeps me safe when it's all said and done. The differences don't bother me, but they try to bother me so suddenly and so unexpectedly. That's what's really irritating. Not the differences themselves, but the surprise that they arrive with.

I can't seem to keep any of these things in my head. So I forget. And I start wondering about the similarities. Contemplating the parallels. Sometimes I even catch myself getting excited about the parallels. Then the differences hit me. Repeat ad infinitum.

To summarize, I'm weird.

Kind of a wasted day for me. Went to work with hardly no sleep. Somehow managed to stay awake all day. Came home after work. Slept fitfully for a couple of hours.

Something is bothering me, and I'm not really sure what that thing is. Nothing in particular seems to stand out in my mind. But there's clearly something that's eating away at my subconscious. Out of those dozen or so little things that I kind of feel should be bothering me - one of them is managing to do exactly that.

My brow is furrowed right now, as I sit in this chair and let my fingers type their drivel. If anyone were to look at me, if anyone were here to look at me, they'd be able to tell. Something is bothering me.

And I'd kinda like to know what it is. So I could decide whether to do anything about it. Whether I should do anything about it. Whether I can do anything about it.

The smile that I wore for over two months is gone, for now, as is the joy I felt. Pushed aside by this unknown bullshit that I guarantee, fucking guarantee, is absolutely nothing in comparison. Because, really, there can be no comparison with that.

So I don't know what's going on with me. All I really know for sure is that it's something stupid and trivial.

I just spent a couple of hours trying to write an entry about something that's been on my mind for a while.

The results were less than stellar. Much less than stellar.

See, I have good ideas so seldom anymore, that when I finally get a good idea, I put all this fucking pressure on myself to write something worthwhile. And I end up with gibberish. And I give up.

It's much easier for me to just let my fingers do all the work while my brain snoozes in the background. That's what I'm doing right now.

This particular good idea, the one I just tried to write about, was born in an email I wrote to RockGirl a couple of weeks ago. An inordinate amount of my good ideas arrive via from that same route. This is because I can tell her anything, and I don't have to censor any of it.

Not like here in this journal, where I have to censor the crap out of myself.

So, I'll write an email to RockGirl, and I'll say some shit about some crap, and I'll go, "Hey, that's pretty deep! I should write an entry about it!"

Happens a lot.

Then I'll try to expand that idea into an entire journal entry, and like I said, I end up with gibberish. Sometimes it's because I have to censor the entry so much that it loses all meaning. But usually it's just because it starts to feel too much like homework writing the thing. I know it's a good idea, and I know I can and should write a good entry about it.

It's the should part that gets me, I think. I don't want to waste the idea on a mediocre entry.

Also, it's 4:00 in the flipping morning now. I've got to get up at 6:30. That sucks big ones.

Girls who want it:

That one girl.

That other girl.

That girl that I still think about every now and then.

Girls who need it:

The girl from that place.

That girl who I like a lot.

That girl I met that one night.

That one hot girl who doesn't think she's hot for some stupid reason.

Girls who deserve it:

Nobody I can think of.

You know what's annoying?

I know who she is now. I say it all the time. I'll mention her name, and whoever I'm talking to will ask, "Who's that again? Did I meet her?"

"She's the one," I'll say.

I don't hesitate at all. There's no doubt in my mind, not now. But back when it mattered, back when it might have made a difference, doubt tainted every thought and every action and every word in my life. And now, I can't find it anywhere. It's gone, like it never existed at all.

There's nothing I could have done differently. I know it. She knows it. I did what I had to do, said what I had to say, felt what I had to feel. And so did she.

We're not even friends anymore. Not really. We're just ghosts that haunt each other from time to time.

And so now I know, without a doubt, who she is, and it's too late. Sometimes I think it was too late before it even began.

I found the one.

Now, I have to find another one.

Hope that there's another one.

And hope that doubt doesn't come back.

All day, I looked forward to drinking the last Schlenkerla Marzen in my fridge. It was a nice feeling, knowing that, no matter how boring the rest of my day was, I'd be able to end it with something special.

But noooooooooooo!

Apparently, I drank my last Marzen last night, while Eric was here. So tonight I had a new (for me) Belgian instead:

Chimay Rogue (Red)

(bottle) Cloudy dark amber. Smallish head. Faint aroma of dark fruits and malt. Flavor fairly mild, consisting mostly of apples and plums. A little drying at the finish. Pretty good.

Anyway.

I don't know that I have enough material on any single subject to make an entry about it, so I suppose I'll just list some random crap.

---

At the hotel in Philly, there was some kind of showbiz-people convention going on. I know that television news was represented, because one of the guys I talked to a lot had been a TV news reporter in Chicago for like 38 years. And at least one guy I talked to was some kind of theatre performer or director or something like that.

Wednesday night, I was sitting at the hotel bar. I glanced over at the big TV, and they had The Larry King Show playing. I didn't think too much about it until I looked at the table directly in front of the TV and saw Larry King sitting there.

At least I'm pretty sure that it was Larry King. People always look older in person than on a screen. So it might have been Larry's great-great grandfather instead. Either way, it was kind of interesting.

---

I had a dream this evening about one of my female friends. The dream was disturbing to me. Not, as one might expect, because it was a sex dream. I'm actually used to having sex dreams about some of my female friends. This particular dream was disturbing because it wasn't a sex dream. Instead, it was one of those touchy-feely hugs and soft kisses dreams. And it was very nice and sweet. So, shit!

---

Today I bought a new George Foreman grill and a deep fryer. Then I grilled a couple of hamburgers and cooked some fries. I don't know why I do these strange things. I hate cooking for myself, and I'm perfectly happy going out to eat. So now I've got two new appliances that I'll never use again.

---

Some things in my life are starting to turn around. So I don't have much grief these days. This whole being in a good mood thing is something I might have to learn to accept. No matter how boring it makes the stuff I write.

---

But still, I find myself wanting more. All the time. That desire will probably keep my creative fires burning for a while longer. I hope so, anyway. A life without desire wouldn't be much of a life, I don't think.

---

Tomorrow is going to be a long day. I've got to leave extra early because of the construction traffic, then I've got to stay extra late to give NotHideousGirl a ride home. I'm sure I'll be pretty exhausted by the time I get home tomorrow night.

---

I should try to sleep now.

Ugh. This morning I'm hung-over. Not my fault though. More on that later.

While I was in Philadelphia, I had me some NotHideousGirl and BikerGirl withdrawal symptoms. Nothing too severe, but I most definitely noticed the lack of pretty girls to talk to. So, early yesterday afternoon, I went over and talked to BikerGirl while she worked. I had a yummy Newcastle (6680) while I was there. I was going to get something to eat, but nothing really looked appealing, so I picked up some Long John Silver's on the way home instead.

Later, when I left to go to Rich O's, I invited NotHideousGirl to come with me. She readily agreed, and we got to Rich O's a little after 8:00.

The place was completely packed, with about half PBDs and half strangers. The strangers were particularly annoying because they'd taken over the living room area. So NotHideousGirl and I sat at the island with some semi-regulars and drank and attempted to talk. I had a Rogue Chocolate Stout (2036).

Eventually, the strangers on the loveseat left, so we moved over there. Then, the rest of them left so I moved to the throne. The next couple of hours we just kinda vegged out. I had two more Rogues (2076).

Oh, yeah. Earlier in the night my friend Eric had called to say that he might be up for going out later. So after I took NotHideousGirl home at 11:00 or so I went back to Rich O's. I'd cut myself off by then, so I had a Diet Coke and talked to a couple of people I don't really know. Then I came home.

Eric called while I was on the way home, and I invited him over to my house for a couple beers. I broke into my beer fridge and gave Eric a nice Belgian that I'd been saving. I had a Schlenkerla Marzen (569) myself. I did end up having a bit of Eric's Belgian, but I didn't have enough to base an official review on. Plus, I was pretty tipsy by then.

So we talked for a few hours. We split a small bottle of some smoked beer that somebody gave me a couple of months ago. I liked it, but again, I was in no shape to remember enough about it to make an official review. Eric left at about 3:30, and I went to bed almost immediately.

Anyway, it's Eric's fault that I'm hung-over this morning.

The stewardess for the flight to Philadelphia provided not just one, but two sources of amusement concern for me.

First, there had been a bit of confusion behind me. People were sitting in other peoples' seats. These things happen, but I guess they got a little loud.

Then the guy with the window seat next to my aisle seat showed up. I moved to stand up and get out of his way, and the stewardess came running up to us. Not walking quickly, professionally, and with purpose. Fucking running.

So I've got the dude who needs the seat, standing in the aisle next to my seat. And I've got the stewardess standing about an inch in front of him. There was nowhere for me to go. The stewardess locked eyes with me and asked, "Do we have a problem here?"

"I was going to stand up and get out of this guy's way so he could sit down," I replied. "But you're totally blocking me from doing so."

For about 6 hours, absolutely nothing happened except that the stewardess kept her eyes locked onto mine. It was probably the creepiest six hours of my entire life. I fully expected her to call security and have them remove me from the plane and stick fingers into my ass. Then, finally, her meds kicked in or something. She said, "Foin" and turned around and walked back to the front of the plane.

Foin?

Yep, that's what she said. And that leads me to the second item of concern.

The chick was some kind of a freak. Or maybe a pod person. Or maybe a robot with a faulty language module.

At first I thought that it was just my imagination. But I've since talked with some of my coworkers, who shared the same flight, and they all noticed it.

The stewardess had a strong cockney accent, but only some of the time.

What's up with that?

Like, she'd say things like, "Ploise stoi yoi troi toibles to their loicked poisition, and ensure that your seatbacks are fully upright." And, when we had to sit on the tarmac for a half an hour for some stupid reason, she said, "Ladies and gentleman, I'll be doing a quick beverage service in a couple of minutes. Beer and woine are foive doillars. Soida and woiter and joices are coimplimentoiry."

Just freaking weird.