Another Weekend Approaches. Yay.
14 May 1999
8:30 PM: Bleah. Passed my written driver's test this morning, so I'll be getting a brand new driver's license soon. How riveting. I was waiting in line and Kris from work walked in. We're everywhere, like ants in spring. Mmmmm, sugar.
I am noticing lately that there's some kind of problem with my speaking. I am talking way too much sometimes, and only catching myself after it's too late. Other times I'll say something, join a conversation in person or in email or IRC or whatever, and it will come to a complete halt. I'm particularly not getting replies to what I had thought were pretty straight forward messages, with questions and everything.
I don't really know what the problem is, yet. Wonder if there's such a thing as a conversational analyst. "You see, one of your difficulties is that in your written communications, you come across as what we analysts like to call 'a completely arrogant prick'."
Black Mask!!! Jet Li! This weekend!
Somewhere in this building, someone is using a microphone, and people are cheering. Someone in this club tonight has stolen my ideas.
I had lunch with my office crush today - just as business employee work stuff, not a crusher-crushee thing - and I think I handled it OK. Except for that talking-too-much problem, see above. She had her hair down and shoes more flat than usual (bad knee), which made her cuter and shorter at the same time.
We have so little in common, though. It's OK for this kind of theoretical time-killing crush, but I've been thinking about how much that would be true for almost anyone I can think of that I actually know. It's remarkable how very few there are of those of us who like to stay up until 3 AM drinking & smoking and then sleep late the next day, watch cheesy movies, read all the time, listen to strange music, go through the Economist every week, and just plain don't care for most people.
I think that, as the saying goes, I'm getting set in my ways.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff.
The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.