But where?

Somewhere, there's a guy who thinks a complete inability to speak coherently when excited is endearing. He banters, and laughs a lot, and is quick to forgive hurts caused by blundering. This guy, I tell you, he is great to hang out with. He is nice to your friends because, you know what? They're really cool, and he completely agrees.

He appreciates books, and thinks it's hilarious that a visit to Half Price Books can last hours, and sometimes are entirely spent sitting on the floor in the children's books section reading fairy tales with a cup of coffee, interrupted occasionally by helping other shoppers find something.

Eating at home? He loves it, and likes cooking or just helping slice up veggies. He always offers to fry things because he knows that the spattering oil is scary and some people have a horrible fear of it. But a lot of times, it's nice to go sit somewhere and let someone else do the cooking while we enjoy a glass of wine, or often sip a milkshake. Because let's face it, this guy digs ice cream, and is always up for splitting dessert.

His family is awesome. They're pretty close, and he keeps in touch with them and has plenty of pictures at his home. He remembers your family, too, and there have been plenty of embarassing and hilarious stories traded between you. In fact, he probably remembers the important dates better than you do.

You could totally spend a lazy day just loafing on the couch with him, and he knows how to kiss. He can make you feel giddy just by flashing a grin at you or with that look. Curling up under a blanket and a movie? Sounds like a perfect way to spend the night, even if you end up ignoring parts of the film.

He's got a taste for travel, and is happy to have someone who will come with him. He's also kind of fit, damn him, and he enjoys gently goading you to come out and ride bikes with him and taking walks around the neighborhood. He can start a fire, and likes the idea of going out on a camping expedition and making sure you stay out of the poison ivy while you wander around looking at everything.

Maybe he isn't the best karaoke singer in the world, but he's not afraid to go up every now and then and have fun on the stage. And he always cheers for people, because he understands the importance of being a good sport.

God, he's so damn cute. Where the hell is he?

Random Link: Interesting piece of news, but my favorite part is the caption on the picture.

Living it up

I never knew that being unemployed could be so much fun.

I haven't held gainful employment since October. This is the longest vacation I have had since... 1995. Every other period of time between class terms has been filled with summer jobs, summer courses (because I just couldn't get enough of school, eh?), or it was just a 3 week pause between grueling course work where I spent a lot of time asleep. While the lack of income kind of stinks, think about the following:

• I have been to Europe, twice.
• I have traveled through beautiful portions of the continental US, primarily the South, Southwest, and Midwest.
• I have been reading and watching movies whenever I feel like it.
• I hang out with my friends and family whenever I feel like it, and am able to accomodate even the weirdest schedules because, hey, I don't have anywhere I really need to be!
• If I feel like taking a walk through Dallas at 11 AM, I can. Or at 11 PM. Or even at 2 AM! (Usually not, though.)
• I party like a rock star whenever the urge strikes.

Last night, for instance, I got to go to a Mavs game (thanks, Ray!), followed by a visit to the Tipp. And it was crazy fun, I tell you. A lot of new folks were there who danced, on stage and off. Crowd participation was through the roof! For the first time ever, I didn't do a single solo performance, but Amy and I rocked some Dixie Chicks, and then we added Autumn to the group to do some killer renditions of Madonna and Shania Twain hits. And make no mistake, there were plenty of other folks who did some great work on the stage. As usual, we were the best audience ever, and gave out plenty of love to everyone who plucked up the courage to sing. We made some new friends, and will be checking out some new locales. And on Wednesday, we're planning a trip to Mexico, arriba!

So yeah, unemployment? Not as bad as I ever thought it would be.

Checking off the To Do list

I rode a mechanical bull 2 nights ago. Sweet.

Cliff Notes? Bah.

I love reading. Mom taught me when I was very small, and I still remember the book I learned from, Mi Libro Magico. In fact, we still have a copy. Mom says that soon after her first lesson, I carried it over to her and ask for another one. And another. And another. Apparently, I was pretty obsessed with being able to read. My brothers and parents had lots of books all over the place, and I distinctly remember someone saying "No, you can't look at it. You can't even read yet." So I had incentive. According to my parents, I took to reading in Spanish very quickly and was immediately able to carry it over to English. And so a book junky was born at the ripe age of 3.

I still remember (hazily) reading to myself out loud. Kind of wish there was video of it, I'm sure it sounded funny. Understand, I didn't exactly have a speech impediment, but I have always been a fast talker, and when I was a kid I spoke at the speed of light, so fast that half the time I would trip up on my own words and would lapse into a frustrated string of stutters. Add to that an accent that was some kind of amalgamation of Spanish/British/Unknown, and it's no wonder I was put in speech therapy when I entered school. I've watched videos of me as a kid, and half the time I have no clue what I'm saying. At any rate, I know it annoyed my brother Mel. One day he turned to me in the living room while we were sitting on the Lazy Boy and said, "Either read to yourself or stop reading." I think I was 4, and the concept of reading quietly to myself blew me away. It was like getting to skip the middle man, and it allowed me to read so much faster. I'm grateful that my bro introduced such a key concept.

Out of touch with the world

I had a good day today. I sat on a couch, read, watched movies, and got to make some chili and eat it with friends. Perfect, really.

So it wasn't until night had fallen that I heard of some of the news of the day. Damn it, what is with people? A brief discussion ensued, and I termed the guy who did this a kook after the part of the 10 page political manifesto was mentioned.

Kook. Is he? Apparently this guy is against America being in Iraq according to hazy reports from sources who had some contact with the documents that were mailed out to several Capitol Hill offices.

You know what? There are a lot of people over there without a clear idea of when they will be able to come home. Or people who have done their service but then get pulled back in for more. There are a lot of people here who just want their friends and family to be out of harm's way, and feel even more frustrated when there isn't a clear end in sight. So if you want this war to be over, I'm with you.

But this guy... I'd like to know what exactly that document said. Because if he's upset about the loss of life that has been happening, setting off a bomb that could have killed or maimed someone on your home soil seems like a pretty stupid way to protest. What do you gain from such an action? Notoriety? Recruiting to your cause other people who think terror is a decent way of making a statement to your own government and countrymen? Despicable.

Conversations in the AM

There are a lot of superstitions that abound in my family. Some are pretty common, some are unique as far as I know. This morning my mother called me to tell me about a nightmare she had. Why? Because if you keep them to yourself, they gain strength to do harm, and for best evil dispelling effect it should be done before noon of the day you wake up. This is especially true when the nightmare has to do with people you know and events that could actually occur. Mom's nightmares are not to be taken lightly, I've found. One, where she dreamt I choked to death on a hot dog, resulted in the removal of the culprit from the household for over a year. Last night's dream was about me, too, but no hot dogs in sight this time.

After that, we just talked for a good while. About family. About food. But we spent a lot of time talking about her friends.

Mom is a gregarious lady by nature. She talks a lot, and is hard to stop once she starts on a topic. She has a wonderful laugh. And yet, she has very few friends here in the USA. Part of it is due to a sad history of friends my parents have had here. As it is, she has friendly conversations and relationships with some of our neighbors, and with some restaurant and shop owners. But the friends she has have been such for most of her life.

LiLi and Dina are sisters who have known Mom since she was a girl. They were her chaperones on dates, her confidantes, her allies in mischief. Dina lives in Peru, and is the eldest. LiLi lives in the states with her husband. Mom... she remembers so much. Details of their lives, gifts they gave, their families, their frustrations. They call her for advice, and vice versa. They laugh on the phone together, and they cry sometimes too. Mostly, they laugh.

Their are other friends she has, mostly in Peru. She hasn't seen a lot of them in years, but I know if she ever goes to visit, she will sit in their homes and laugh with them over the way life turns out. They will remember together, and bask in those memories, and revel in the friendship of today. I think about that, and it makes me smile.

Lowered standards and short cuts

Ambling through different areas of Dallas, you are bound to see some graffiti. I've talked about it before, in fact. However, I've noticed something more and more frequently. Rather than the traditional defacing of yore, where you used a nice thick permanent marker or spray paint if you're going to leave your mark, these guys have been putting the design on plain white stickers which they then slap onto random objects. Presto, instant tagging!

I have one word for this. LAME!

I mean, come on. Has there been a decline in artistic recruiting in gangs, or what? Are today's youth so freaking lazy that they can't perfect a design that they can produce in a minute or less? I can almost hear the leader of one of these gangs. "Man, you guys suck! I guess I need to print some stuff on Photoshop for you morons."

Bah.