I Want To Hold You So Hear Me Out, I Want To Show You What Love's All About, Darling Tonight, Now I've Got You In My Sights

--"Hungry Eyes", Eric Carmen

I remember in junior high how much the Dirty Dancing soundtrack was ever present. Every birthday party I went to, every school dance--I heard the whole soundtrack ad infinitum it seems like. I knew the movie had to be popular on the basis of this fact alone, but for me it just wasn't one of those films I was dying to see. I wanted to see it. I just figured it was one of those films that I assumed I would see eventually.

Well, nineteen years later I was finally able to watch it from start to finish this past weekend. That has got to be a world record for procrastinating on a movie. I don't know what it took me so long, but I finally got that off of the laundry list of movies I've always wanted to see, but just never got around to it. I thought it was good. It was what I thought it was, a movie that appealed to my romantic sensibilities with a great soundtrack and typically Hollywood in the 80s. From the "No one puts baby in the corner" line to the requisite move that cannot be pulled off the very end (cf: Pamchenko in The Cutting Edge), it was a definite feel-good film. It won't be making any of my top ten lists, but it will be something that I'd stop to watch again if I ever got it on cable or something. At the very least, it's something I'm glad to have seen.

I think the problem with me was that I always associated with junior high at St. Rita's. Indeed, one of my most vivid memories is of getting blindsided by this soundtrack at my first boy/girl party. As if it weren't bad enough that my friends told me it would just be the five of us, when in reality they had invited the whole class, I was forced to be again and again reminded of how shy I was with each passing song on this soundtrack. There I was, the epitome of a wallflower, being repeatedly asked if I wanted to dance and having to discern an acceptable manner in which to tell the young lady no. I just couldn't do it when it was that young. I thought I would make a fool out of myself and cause a scene. In actuality, my being the only one not dancing made me stand out even more. And through it all, Dirty Dancing songs played all throughout the night (now that I'm pondering it, I'm kind of wondering why no one else thought to bring another album to the party). I guess you could say that album was the soundtrack to my own quivering heart.

It's rather idiotic to hold a movie accountable for one's own frailties, but when you're as superstitious as I am, you start blaming the external circumstances than something internal. Not that I consciously said I'll never watch that movie. But I think the idea that every time I thought of Dirty Dancing I was reminded of what a insecure fifth or sixth grader came rushing back to mind. I really think it took this long for me to separate the two from one another.


I feel the magic between you and I

Like I said, I enjoyed the movie. The reason for that, I believe, is that for the first time I could take a look at it as an entity unto itself rather than as part of my adolescent experience. It's no longer the symbol of that five-year period in my life where everything was confusing and it seemed like all the rules were changing for the worse when it come to friendships and relationships with my friends and the rest of my class.

It's not the albatross I once thought it was.

It's just a good movie to watch now.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

I Know You Think That I Shouldn't Still Love You, Or Tell You That, But If I Didn't Say It, Well, I'd Still Have Felt It, Where's The Sense In That?

--"White Flag", Dido

ms - Surprised?

b - A little. What do you want?

ms - How are you doing?

b - I'm kind of irritated right now.

ms - Understandable. But I mean--how's married life?

b - Is this really why you called?

ms - No.

b - Then why?

ms - I wanted to talk to you.

b - After eight months you suddenly want to talk. It doesn't work that way. You can't come and leave as you please.

ms - Not suddenly. I've been meaning to call.

b - Let me guess. You never got around to it.

ms - I didn't think you'd want to talk to me. I didn't want to bother you.

b - I might still not. I'm wondering why I am at this very moment. Explain to me why I don't just hang up on you. Explain to me why little 'ole me should even be talking to you at all.

ms - I can't. I messed up. You're able to do whatever you want.

b - I should be placing this telephone down now and be walking away right now. I should be forgetting you as quickly as possible. I should be doing a half-million other endeavors besides wasting my time with you again.

ms - Yet here we are.

b - Here we are.

ms - If you want to hang up, I understand. That's well within your rights.

b - Hell's bells, if I wanted to hang up I would've.

ms - If I said I was sorry, would that be enough to make things normal?

b - Sorry doesn't even begin to cover it.

ms - I didn't think so.

b - I just want to know why.

ms - You knew I couldn't show up. You know why.

b - I wanted you there. You were supposed to be there. What kind of jackass friend doesn't show up to a wedding?

ms - The horrible kind?

b - The worst kind. Then you go and compound it by not even apologizing. Eight months?

ms - I know. I'm sorry.

b - Tell me why, then.

ms - Why what?

b - Why everything. If you knew you were in the wrong, if you knew that, then why wait? Why didn't you call me a week after, a month after, any time besides eight months later?

ms - I couldn't face you. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to ask my way back into your life again.

b - So your plan was to abandon me. That's just great.

ms - Please don't start that. I didn't come here to cause you any more grief. I just wanted to tell you a few things before we go our separate ways.

b - Oh really? This I have to hear.

ms - You know this is hard for me, Breanne. You can be mad, but try and understand that I'm doing my best to explain stuff to you. I could've just not called and let you stay pissed at me from a distance. I'm trying to do the right thing here. I thought I could do that much for you.

b - Fine. Speak.

ms - I've always adored you, Breanne. I've always cared about you. I've always tried to do right by you by being there when you needed me and staying out of your way when you needed your space. I thought this was a situation where you needed time to yourself... or even the rest of your life to yourself.

b - You thought I thought we were through?

ms - I guess. I kind of thought I was sparing you the trouble.

b - Oh, I see. You were purposefully avoiding me for my benefit. Well, please, thank you for that. Do you know how lazy that sounds?

ms - I thought it'd be easier. You had Greg. I fucked up. I thought it was a perfect time to move things forward to where they needed to be.

b - You decided this all on your lonesome?

ms - Yes.

b - You never consulted me. You never asked me what I wanted. You never thought how much this would hurt me.

ms - I thought it would be better.

b - So, on top of not showing up to my wedding you also decided to drop out of my life completely?

ms - A little.

b - You don't just drop out of someone's life a little. You either do or you don't.

ms - Then, yeah, I guess I did.

b - I should just hang up now.

ms - Maybe you should.

b - Why even call at all then?

ms - I missed you. I thought you deserved an explanation why and I thought maybe I could say good-bye once and for all.

b - Well, I reckon if that's all you're calling for then I won't stand in your way. Good-bye.

ms - Well, you know that's not all that I'm calling for.

b - Then what?

ms - I don't know.

b - If you want something from me then you're going to have to explain it to me.

ms - I want things back to normal like they were.

b - Before you fucked me over?

ms - I suppose.

b - I thought you wanted out of my life.

ms - Not really.

b - I thought my being married now would be too hard for you.

ms - Not that hard.

b - Which is it? Because Greg's not going anywhere.

ms - I know that. I'm aware of that.

b - And I'm not leaving him.

ms - Yes.

b - So the only question is if you can handle that? If you can't, just hang up and never call me again.

ms - I think I can.

b - You need to be sure.

ms - The only thing I can say is that I'll try. This is new territory for me. I kind of always thought we would be together... eventually.

b - It's too late for that.

ms - Obviously.

b - But it's not too late for us, you know? I'm still as mad as all hell about what you did, but it's nothing I can't forgive you for... eventually. You know me, Patrick, I spark as quick as a firecracker, but I putter out just as quick. It wouldn't have taken eight months to get over this. I'm not that stubborn, am I?

ms - I didn't know what you were going to say.

b - I would have chewed your ear off like I am now, but I would have been okay. I wouldn't have just dismissed you out of turn.

ms - I wouldn't have blamed you if you had.

b - You make me so mad sometimes. You try and control all these things. You try and control me. You're the one who ran away and yet you still think you're being the gentleman by staying away. Well, what on God's green earth gave you the impression that what you did was unforgivable?

ms - I just thought...

b - You thought that I was going to be unreasonable and tell you to stay the hell away from me forever?

ms - Kind of.

b - Is that what you really think of me?

ms - No.

b - Have I ever said that to you and meant it?

ms - No.

b - I need you. You're like kin to me. You don't tell family to never come back. You just don't.

ms - I've never screwed you over this bad before, though.

b - That's true. I'm not saying I didn't think about it. Shutting the door on you is exactly what my parents, Greg, everyone was telling me I should do. If he doesn't want to even apologize or explain himself then they said that you didn't deserve a second chance. There was a large part of me that didn't think there was any excuse that could explain all of this mess away.

ms - And now?

b - You're family. Family's going to get you boiling mad sometimes, you know?

But you know what else?

ms - What?

b - They only do it because they love you. I'm sure you had your reasons. I even understand a few of them, but the bottom line is you thought you were doing what was best for both of us.

ms - I know how I'd be. I didn't want to ruin it...

b - You still should have came.

ms - I still should've. I realize now that it's going to be those days that I can never get back. Ten years from now, fifteen years from now, I'm going to wish I was there. I'm going to wish that I was there to see it, to see you up there, to see how lovely and happy and crazy you were on that day. Sure, I would have been sad. But I think I could've been happy for you too.

b - Now I'll never get to dance in my wedding dress at my wedding with you. That was a promise you broke and we'll never get back. One dance at my wedding even though you don't dance, that's what you promised.

ms - I did promise that.

b - Let's make sure you don't break any more promises to me, okay? I don't want to be having this same cycle of having to break and repair us every year, you know?

ms - That's good to hear.

b - You should have called earlier.

ms - I should've.

b - I missed you too. There's so much I wanted to tell you. It's like wanting some milk but having no glasses to pour it into, you know?

ms - Well, you can tell me now.

b - You're my foundation. You can't just leave, sugar. It's not allowed.

ms - Never again, I swear.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

You're Feeling Listless, People Are Tired And Commitment Has Gone, To This I've Been A Witness

--"I Need All The Friends I Can Get", Camera Obscura

Last Friday Breanne and I had our 2008 fantasy baseball draft. It's a sixteen team 5 x 5 head-to-head league with a minimum seventeen innings pitched requirement. It was special because it marks the first time both of us have entered in a league and plan to play the entire season through. Last year she was able to take over for an owner in my league who dropped out, but it wasn't quite the same because she was never satisfied with the team she inherited. This year, not only was she able to get her absolute favorite player in the world (and her nicknamesake), Mr. Chipper Jones, but she was also to get another heralded brave, Mr. Tim Hudson. As for me, I wasn't able to get any Red Sox at all except Tek, but I plan to change that situation as the season evolves.

My biggest player is some guy name Alex Rodriguez, but I'm thinking he's not going to pan out since he plays for some minor league team in NYC. LOL

Here's my roster, followed by Lucy's:

THE HOUSE OF MOJO

C Jason Varitek (Bos - C)
1B Mark Teixeira (Atl - 1B)
2B Brian Roberts (Bal - 2B)
3B Álex Rodríguez (NYY - 3B)
SS J.J. Hardy (Mil - SS)
OF Gary Sheffield (Det - OF)
OF Chris Duncan (StL - 1B,OF)
OF Ken Griffey Jr. (Cin - OF)
Util Aaron Rowand (SF - OF)
SP Dan Haren (Ari - SP)
SP Brett Myers (Phi - SP,RP)
SP Mark Buehrle (CWS - SP)
RP Trevor Hoffman (SD - RP)
RP Rafael Betancourt (Cle - RP)
P Brian Bannister (KC - SP)
P Jon Garland (LAA - SP)
BN Ryan Freel (Cin - 3B,OF)
BN Joey Votto (Cin - 1B,OF)
BN Jack Wilson (Pit - SS)
BN Jayson Nix (Col - 2B)
DL Wily Mo Peña (Was - OF) DL
BN Boof Bonser (Min - SP)

THE NIGHT FEVERS

C Bengie Molina (SF - C)
1B Albert Pujols (StL - 1B)
2B Jeff Kent (LAD - 2B)
3B Chipper Jones (Atl - 3B)
SS Khalil Greene (SD - SS)
OF Ichiro Suzuki (Sea - OF)
OF Lance Berkman (Hou - 1B,OF)
OF Eric Byrnes (Ari - OF)
Util Mark Ellis (Oak - 2B)
SP Roy Oswalt (Hou - SP)
SP Fausto Carmona (Cle - SP)
SP Kelvim Escobar (LAA - SP)
RP Jeremy Accardo (Tor - RP)
RP Bob Howry (ChC - RP)
P Tim Hudson (Atl - SP)
P Peter Moylan (Atl - RP)
BN Matt Kemp (LAD - OF)
BN Michael Bourn (Hou - OF)
BN Asdrubal Cabrera (Cle - 2B,SS)
BN Pedro Feliz (Phi - 3B)
BN Micah Owings (Ari - SP)
DL Yovani Gallardo (Mil - SP) DL

----

Aside from the fact that the ongoing friendly wager of a hundred dollars applies to the contest, I like the fact we're both involved for the simple reason that it feels good to be part of a community with her. So much of our lives are spent doing separate interests, it feels good when our interests intersect in an area outside of this blog. It's like that with any friendship; too much time is wasted on how people differ. The whole reason for being friends with somebody is because you found commonalities with that person that being friends is a given. We may bicker on a lot of things, but I know she's a diehard baseball fan just like me.

The other reason I'm very much looking forward to this fantasy season is that, by my nature I'm not a joiner. With work, writing, and keeping up on the activities I'm already involved in, I don't find much time for other interests. It's true what they say, the older you get, the less time you have for finding out who you are. You're pretty much stuck refining all that you know about yourself instead of discovering new facets. But the dichotomy is that I still get a thrill about pushing into a new group. I still am fascinated with meeting new people who enjoy all my hobbies, all my pursuits, all my interests, and picking their brain about their approach to their appreciation. Too often I think I'll be great at something, that I'll stay committed, only to realize that it was just a passing fancy and that the people I met aren't exactly my crowd. I'm proud to say baseball has being a decades long passion and every real baseball fan (not Dodgers fan, Angels fan, Giants fan, &c...), but a fan of the entire sport and the pastime as part of the pastiche of being an American, has been a welcome addition to my circle of friends and acquaintances.

Lastly, I'm excited for the upcoming season because it feels good to see a project through from inception to completion. That hardly ever happens in my life. One only has to look as far back as The Carisa Meridian to realized that there are dozens of projects currently on the back burner. I may be lethargic, but all of them I'm intending to finalize someday soon. This league, though, gives me hope that I'll actually follow through. I know I can finish this season out despite any other commitment I make. I know that because I love baseball. I know that because, if I even start to falter in my dedication, I have my good friend Lucy to push me back into a drafting and trading shape. I know that because fantasy baseball is a great hobby and one I look forward to every year.

Especially when I clearly have the best team in the league. That hundred is so mine. LOL

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

I'm A New Soul, I Came To This Strange World, Hoping I Could Learn A Bit, About How To Give And Take

--"New Soul", Yael Naim

The question is can a old dog learn a new trick. The answer is it depends who the old dog is. I always thought I was open to change, that I was one of those people who took life easy until it was time not to take it easy. Sure, I was stubborn and, yes, there were a lot of issues that I absolutely put my foot down. But those occasions were few and far between for most people. Most people just saw me as someone who was up for doing anything. In fact, it's only the people who know me well who really know how stubborn I can be. I try to be flexible whenever possible. However, the more I age and the more years pass me by, the more I realize how inflexible I'm becoming.

I got chewed out at work recently, but it was hard for my supervisor to put into exact words exactly what I was doing wrong. The most he could say was that I was doing A to B fine, but he wanted me to start anticipating doing C, D, E before they came up, which I guess is a fair assessment of view towards life and work. I don't try to anticipate work, I don't try to anticipate problems. I've always been a come-as-they-may type of person. It's not in my purview to look for more to work on. I have a hard enough time trying to look past all the stuff that's falling down now to worry about what other shoe is going to drop later on. Yet the chewing out has got me thinking that I need to do more than what's expected of me. I need to challenge myself to become more of the person who looks to plug all the holes; not just the hole in front of me at the time.

I don't know--I guess some people could call that lazy. My cousin certainly does. I prefer to think of that as perceiving the world as capable of moving without me. I don't want to fit myself in where I don't belong. I just want to carve out my little niche and to hell with the rest of it. But, again, like my supervisor says, I may prefer doing things on my own, but I'm part of a team at work. Not only that I live in an existence where I'm constantly running into other people I have to get along with. I don't exist in a vacuum. For me right now, people are unavoidable. Not that I avoid all people, but it's not as easy as I would like it avoiding the people who annoy me, who destroy the peacefulness of my day, who make me contemplate what it'd be like to be a hermit. I must evolve back into being the person who seeks new challenges rather than solving the same old ones time and time again. I must evolve back into being the person who went out and met new people rather than milking the great people I already have in my life until they're blue in the face from hanging out with me all the time. I must evolve into being more than who I am now.

So, yes, the question once more is can you teach an old dog a new trick?

The answer?

God, I hope so.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Come, As You Are, As You Were, As I Want You To Be, As A Friend, As A Friend, As A Known Memory

--"Come As You Are", Nirvana

I just received an e-mail from my friend Jennifer's brother saying that his family will be having a somewhat good-sized get-together in May. It will be to commemorate five years since she died and to once again celebrate the person she was in life. They're telling me I should come, but not only that, to say a few words--actually, some pretty specific words.

If it wasn't bad enough it completely slipped my mind that it'll be five years May 14th, I'm thinking about not going. They want me to read the eulogy/speech I gave at her funeral. It's the last thing I thought I'd have to read again. I mean--yes, it's one of the most heartfelt and honest things I've written, but those kinds of things should only ever have to be written or read once. To me, it would feel like we were burying her a second time and it was bad enough for me letting go of her during the first go-around. I know why they're doing it, because it's easier to remember her with something nice that's already mapped out rather than trying to communicate their feelings all over again. Yet to me that seems kind of a cop-out. I was glad to read it the first time because it was frankly one of the only ways I could deal with my grief, but it was for me one of those one-and-done kind of projects. It put my grief in a very secure place where I didn't have to stumble over it in everyday life. Now they're asking me to bring it out of the closet and put it in the forefront of my mind again.

I don't want to do it. Yes, it'll be nice for her family and, yes, I kind of feel obligated because Jennifer was such a lovely person who deserves to be remembered as long as possible. But I'd rather remember how great it was to know her in life and not how frighteningly real it was to visit her in the hospital while she was dying, to hear that she had died less than twelve hours after I had visited her last, to have to read that horrible eulogy I had written when all I wanted to do was block the memory of her being dead away. I don't want to celebrate the fifth anniversary of her being dead. I want to go on oblivious to the fact she had to die at all.

I just think there should be a respect for a person once they've passed. There should be a dignity in death. The people left alive shouldn't be dredging up the fact she's dead as an excuse to come together. I think the time for memorial has come and gone. Let the mourning cease at last. I don't know--maybe I would see things differently if I were actually her family. Maybe this is something they need to do because they don't feel like the have closure with their daughter. I made my peace with her death a long time ago, though. I don't need to muddy the waters again at all. If I did believe in an afterlife, I think what they're planning to do to be the closest thing to pull her away from that. I'd like to believe she's somewhere happy and to be reminded of all the sadness she left behind in the days after she died isn't right. She should continue to be happy wherever she is and whatever she is. I think we all should be happy and done with being sad for her.

Also, I just know if I do it this time it'll be some kind of tradition. I don't want to be coming back every five years to relive what had to be one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Nobody my age at that time should have ever died--certainly not anyone I knew. Twenty-seven is the prime of life. It's not a time to have it all end for you. Nobody deserves that. Nobody's friends or family deserves to be put through that kind of misery. It's not something to celebrate.

If I had my way, I would probably just go alone to the cemetery on May 14th. I'd spend maybe fifteen or twenty minutes talking to her and that would be that. I've been horrible not visiting her enough, but cemeteries and the ilk scare the hell out of me. I don't like being reminded of death.

Yet I'll probably go.

I'll probably end up reading the stinking eulogy again anyway.

I'll probably end up just missing her all over again.

Then it'll probably take another good month or so like last time to get myself straight again.

Eh. She's still my friend. What's the use of being alive if you can't be sad for those who aren't fortunate to be with us? Maybe that's better than being numb to it all. Maybe that's better than trying to forget, forget, forget because when you remember all you remember is all that suffering in the last few months. Maybe it'll be good to be around people who laughed with her also. Maybe that way you might remember all the happy times too.

People should never die. They just shouldn't.

----

The eulogy:

Too many times we forget the people that are important to us. Too many times we take the people we care about for granted. Too many times we simply fail to recognize the special individuals who give value and substance to our lives. Too many times.

I have always been awestruck by the number of great men and women whose lives have left an indelible mark on the temper of their own age. These individuals, whose reservoir of character, whose passionate actions, have left memories for both their friends and family at home, as well as the world at large deserve special attention. They deserve the daily accolades of any great hero, reaffirming their worth to us so that they may know how truly revered they really are. Sadly, many never gain the praise they so richly are due. Sadly, many pass away never knowing the merits of their achievements nor the strong connections they have forged with so many around them. We are gathered here today---family and friends---not to mourn or grieve the loss of one so dear to us as was Jennifer---but to praise her, to eulogize her for the vast achievements she most certainly attained. To list her many accomplishments would take me far too long to enumerate---and it would take me away from what it is I really want to say---it would take me away from what I truly feel in my mind and in my heart.

I didn’t know Jennifer too long--certainly not the years and decades some of you may have known her. But I think I knew her well enough to say she was a brave person. She was a dedicated person to whatever she set her mind to. I remember walking with her at the beach one day a few months after we had first met. We talked over all the plans we had for our lives and discussed the goals that we needed to hold ourselves to. She was planning to be an artist—either a painter or a sculptor because those are the passions she truly felt most expressed who she was. Yet she worried that her talent would not be up to par to accomplish her goals. I was just about to dole out some reassuring words when she seemed to solve her own problem. She told me that not everyone is born with the talent to grab their dreams. However, she said, everyone is born with the ability to work hard. I may have to work my ass off, but I’m not afraid of that. And she really wasn’t. She wasn’t afraid of who she wanted to become and what it would take to become that person in her mind. She wasn’t afraid of the sacrifices and the heartache pursuing her bliss would entail. She wasn’t afraid of anything.

She was the busiest person I ever met, which is probably why I still find myself wishing I had had more time to spend with her. Yet I can honestly say that I cherish each and every time I had the pleasure of being in her company. She was a joy to be with, always primed to disarm you with her gentle sense of humor and her affability. There are certain people that can light up a room. That’s not how I would describe Jen’s charisma. Her charm laid in how approachable she was. She never thought herself above anyone. She was beautiful to everyone around her, but not to herself. She always thought she looked rather plain. She was intelligent to everyone around her, but not to herself. She always thought she struggled to keep up in the conversation. She was a good person to everyone around, but not to herself. She always thought there was something more she could do when everybody else was telling her she already did too much. In an age when people seem content to just do enough she seemed only content when she had done too much, when she had given everything she had, and then some. She was just one of those people.

I’m not standing up here to canonize her, though. She was not a saint and she would be the first person to tell you that she wasn’t. She’d tell you that it was hard enough being a normal person and that living up to sainthood was not an ambition she was aspiring to. She often joked with me that she was sinful enough to keep people on their toes but not enough to cause the devil to take notice. Just when you thought you had her pegged as some type of goody-two-shoes, she’d surprise you. You’d get a call from her and she’d be calling from some bar in Phoenix when she was supposed to have been studying for finals. Or you’d be awakened at two-thirty in the morning with a knock on your door and the humorous tale of how she had had some date’s car towed for being a tad too forward on their last date. That Jen, she could really surprise you.

Even towards the end she never failed to surprise me. The manner in which she held onto the delicate humor about her condition will forever stand as a testament to her strength. She was not a quitter, but she knew when she had been beaten. And she accepted it with the grace and the pleasantness of an individual who was secure with the tally of her life. She knew she had done everything humanly possible with the time God had given her. She didn’t get to finish everything she had set out to accomplish, but she had at the very least set out on every task she had wanted to undertake. Not many of us can honestly say that even today. She knew there would be a legacy of a well-lived life that she could leave behind. She knew that the regrets she did possess were petty in nature—things like never having visited the fourteen countries she had jotted down in fourth grade, things like never kissing at least one movie star, things like never swimming a thousand miles from any land—but the important things, the vital things, like making sure everybody she knew being able to remember her fondly; like carving out a life that was, at turns, spectacular and splendid; like dying with a smile on her face, she was able to fulfill.

I think I have said enough. We shall all remember Jennifer---this is the way with all loved people in history. Let us not mourn the passing of our Jennifer, our Jen, our smiling reminder of how great people can enrich our lives. She was a great woman. Let us instead praise and honor her as all great individuals have been praised throughout time. In this way her spirit of compassion, dedication, and strength will live through us and guide us---a brilliant and forever shining star.

She was someone who was important to all of us and who we all loved. Let that be our memory of her.

Yeah, I'm not going to be sleep at all tonight.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

But How Do You Coin The Phrase, Though, That Will Set Your Soul Apart, Just To Touch A Lonely Heart

--"Summertime", The Sundays

I used to tease Breanne when we first started talking that, if she wasn't careful, I was might end up falling in love with her. I didn't think it would happen. I don't think she did either. In some respects, I guess I should have seen it coming. If you spend as much time picking someone else's brain as we did, if you let yourself go to the degree we did, hell, if you just allow yourself the opportunity to see all of someone's best traits, you can find yourself falling very easily. It slips down like water on a brownstone wall, in fits and spurts, gathering momentum with every passing minute. It's not this flood of emotions that people come to expect it to be. Nor does it freefall uncontrolled. It takes its time, but it inevitably happens. Like the rain on the wall, there's no stopping it all. You may stop a trickle here and there, but you can't stop it all. Yeah, it didn't happen overnight--my impatience be damned. But it did eventually happen.

My biggest concern in the beginning was how best to proceed from there. I'd already taken some shots for even involving myself with someone still in high school when I had already moved on to college. To add the fact that I was starting to become infatuated with her on top of our friendship would have been asking all the rumors to come flying even faster. Contrary to popular belief, I don't relish putting myself in awkward situations. I don't have a compulsion to draw controversy with every girl I see. To paraphrase Rilo Kiley, "you say I choose scandal like it has never once chosen me." No, I didn't go courting to be whispered about as the pedophile or pervert or the hundreds of other names I was called during those first few years. In fact, there were dozens of people I didn't even tell about Breanne. She was like some dirty secret that I had to keep to myself lest I be judged by people I swore could never understand. Friends, family, co-workers--I kept them out of the loop even while I would tell her about them. Sure, there were a few people--like Dennis and Heidi--but there were people that were considered islands to me. They had no way of talking to my family; they weren't in my regular circle of friends. I felt I could hold them to strict confidence. I felt that I could regulate the flow of information with them rather effortlessly. After all, I could barely figure out how I wanted to proceed. The last thing I needed was to spring Little Miss Chipper on the other people I supposedly loved and have them initiate the lectures or advice-giving. The only two people I wanted to have a say in the matter were me and here. Quite frankly, I wanted it to be be 100% my choice, but as they say, it's a feat better dreamt of than accomplished.

I remember there would be ten minutes of conversation that I would lose in the folds of memory because the only thing I could concentrate on was how lovely her voice sounded some particular day. I would get lost in the way she would phrase her words. I would gladly trade all the news of myself I'd been dying to tell her for a few more minutes of that forceful hurricane laughter of hers. I would just listen. That's one way I knew how special she was becoming to me. The other area would be the small thunders of daydreams that would crash into my day. There I'd be, at work or in class, and I would conjure up this daguerreotype of her in a satin nightdress or some other absurd get-up. I wouldn't even know what would spur them on. It would just happen. Slowly my fantasies about starlets like Jenny Lewis or Sarah Polley were being, one by one, replaced with thoughts of her. It was easier with Breanne. She was real. It was very doable to imagine us meeting up this weekend or the next, while all the actresses or models or celebrities always took the word of a thousand masons to even conceive a possible scenario where I could even bump into them. It was more tangible to be speaking to a certain young woman and hearing her repeat back to you that she wanted to see you. It was more real to hear someone wanted to be with you as much as you wanted to be with them.

Even when I couldn't see her in person--which was difficult--I could take that next step of predicting a future where I could see her everyday. And I had the pictures. Yes, I felt very shameful lusting after someone who very easily could have been my younger sister, but it was better than hungering after a complete stranger also. I knew her. I knew I liked her. It felt very safe holding onto these feelings and not dismissing them out of hand. It wasn't like I felt I was being delusional in hoping that she felt as strongly about me as I did about her. I had it on her good authority that she definitely did. The only obstacle was how to come across to her how passionately I felt about her without feeling like a complete freak inside.

I should have just told her I loved her. I mean--I've said it hundreds of times in the last fourteen years. I don't know what the huge difficulty would have been saying that when I first felt it. On the outside a eighteen-year-old professing his undying affection to his thirteen-year-old friend sounds troublesome--even apart from the age difference. But I truly believe that we weren't just any eighteen-year-old and thirteen-year-old. The longevity and strength of our friendship speaks to the validity of that. It's not like my faith in our bond has wavered since that time. I should have told her as soon as I had worked out how I felt for myself. That would have been easier than agonizing over the decision as I did. Breanne's always talking about acting from the gut and of not being able to swim without getting your face wet first. That's what I was attempting to do, to swim a great length without getting my face wet first. I wanted it to be done without taking that first step to accomplishing it.

But how do you tell the person you love that you love them when you've spent weeks and weeks convincing her that that very thing will never happen? How do you take back your proclamation that it'll never work, it'll never come to pass, it'll never even be attempted? I was so busy trying to convince her that that wasn't something she wanted that I was afraid I had done to good of a job. I wanted us to be friends for life and, in the beginning, that meant not getting us entangled in the netting that love throws over a couple. I wanted to give her the sense that either one of us could walk away from the other with the minimum of hassle. I wanted to give the sense that both of us were committed to the friendship because we felt that strongly and not because we felt a sense of obligation. I wanted her to be free to care about me as little or as much as she pleased.

Then I was just afraid that the answer would be she didn't love that much at all. Not in that way, at least.

When it came time to take that dive off the platform, I almost chickened out. I couldn't find the words to express the wealth of statements that I wanted to get across to her. It was all so much. I wanted something succinct, but succinctness has never been one of my more stronger points. I've always been the guy who speaks from the heart and pretty much rambles until he strikes the turn of phrase that sums up everything he has just been spewing on and on for the last twenty minutes into a few words. I don't know--I think I gave a brief history of how we met and early conversations. From there, I think I segued into flattering her mercilessly. Then finally I ended up with a diatribe about how fate and fortune and happiness were all intertwined, that they had all conspired to bring me to the point I was at.

I couldn't bring myself to say it. I couldn't just say how much I was in love with her, how much joy she brought. I couldn't tell her how much I looked forward to our conversations the whole day. I couldn't describe to her the smile and the laughter just answering the phone when I knew it would be her brought. I couldn't say how much I wanted her to hold, to kiss, to sleep with, to wake up next, to brush the bangs out of her eyes, to plain love. I couldn't weigh the words and parcel them out to her. I was stuck in the worst way.

I was about to hang up defeated, one step short of actually putting myself out there in terms of how I felt, when it came sliding out of me. I don't know who was the more surprised, me or her.

"I've never been good at telling people I love them, but you should be the first, Breannie," is the way I remember saying it. The fact I didn't actually say the words is what struck me immediately. I kind of said that I did love her without actually stringing those three particular words together.

But what she remembered most and what finally made it real for her that I was telling her how much I cared about her was that I had called her Breannie. That was something I'd never done before. I'd called her Little Miss Chipper, Peaches, and other nicknames that she had taught me. I'd even taken to call her B. by then. But I had always stopped short of using any sort of endearment for her. I was very careful in not allowing myself a pet name for her because, again, I didn't want to give her the wrong idea of where I thought we were headed.

That all changed that day. Breannie she became then and Breannie she will always stay. It's not just a nickname, you see, because if you spell out that word you'll see that it's actually spelled, "I love you."

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part, Everyday You See One More Card, You Take It On Faith, You Take It To The Heart, The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

--"The Waiting", Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers

I am probably the most impatient person anyone has ever met. It extends from how I play games to how I talk to people, even to how I deal with waiting for mail. Once I know I want something I want it right then. Once I decide I dislike someone or something, it's as good as hated. I don't like small talk. I don't like playing guessing games ("guess where I want on Friday?" "Dude, just tell me.). I don't like very many surprises. I like knowing what's coming, how fast it can be there, and when I can start enjoying it.

So it was that I was waiting for latest package to arrive all week. All week at work I just kept playfully asking them if they thought it would arrive that day. On Monday, a mere day after I ordered it from Ebay, I was already inquiring if there was a snowball's chance in hell it could have shipped from Idaho that fast. On Tuesday, even though I had received an e-mail stating to the effect that it would only be shipping that day, I still was asking if a one-day turnaround was possible. I guess you could say I get overly anxious about everything I want to do. Even yesterday, I must have asked my cubicle mate a dozen times if she thought my package would be delivered that day. I don't like to wait, especially not for stuff I've been trying to buy for over a month.

To show you another way I express this restlessness or agitation that overcomes me when something I want is on the line, I used to play Magic with my cousins. A lot of those games would end when I would cast a spell that assured our mutual destruction. Sure, I could have held out and played out the game, but my impulsiveness won me over. I would rather end the game in a draw, as long as it meant my opponent lost, than be patient and try to win a long, drawn-out struggle. That's my purview. If one of my goals can be accomplished quickly, I'd rather do that, than try and see if I can accomplish all of my goals. Even people I don't like to dilly-dally with. I don't take an instant liking to many people. But when I do, I make sure to ingratiate myself with them as soon as possible. DeAnn, for instance, I went from talking with to exclusively dating with in less than five days. Even more telling was the fact I went from introducing myself to Miss Holins in mid-July to talking to her almost every night by the end of July.

I don't see the sense in putting off what I'm planning to do anyway. That'd be like buying a car one day and not driving it for a week. If I know I'm going to end up doing something anyway, then there's no time like the present. That's probably why I'm so bad at editing and critiquing myself. I'm very much a firm believer in the one-and-done theory. Once it's completed (preferably quickly), there's no point in reworking a project. Again, I don't have the patience that perfection requires. Give me good enough now rather than exquisite later on.

At any rate, my package arrived today, which was the impetus for this post so I think I'll end this post right here.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Hold On Tight, You Know She's A Little Bit Dangerous, She's Got What It Takes To Make Ends Meet, The Eyes Of A Lover That Hit Like Heat

--"Dangerous", Roxette

Tommy had been taken out minutes after arriving at the end-of-year picnic for our sixth grade class. He had been clipped as soon as he had exited his mom's Aerostar. It hadn't been pretty. One minute he was riding next to me; the next minute he was dead barely two steps from the sliding door. Paul, John, and Phillip were soon to follow. All of them had been clipped while we were moving the food around on the various tables. It was their fault really. They should have been paying more attention. I was the only one of our tiny group still alive. I was getting nervous because there it was barely two hours into the six hours we were supposed to be at Memorial Park and I didn't have anyone to watch my back. I was alone and I was being hunted.

I sat down to eat with the rest of the class. It was hard knowing that out of the twenty-two classmates still left alive, one of them was gunning for me. The worst part wasn't the fact I was being hunted. That I could handle because that's how the game I had gotten involved in was play. Nope, the worst part was it had been already two hours and I still had no better idea who my assassin was when we had all first started. I scanned their faces while I chowed down on the rather strange mix of KFC, McDonald's, and barbecue we were being served. None of their delirious smiles betrayed one hint at their intentions. The wolf had hidden himself or herself among the remaining populace.

Of course, I was no better. I too had a name in mind who I needed to go after. Someone I too needed to kill. The shame of it all was that it was someone I had a deep crush on. It would be difficult to keep my intentions hid from her, especially in those last few minutes where I'd be forced to gain her confidence before silencing her forever. I tried to imagine her reaction, those sweet blue-green eyes becoming accusatory when she pieced together that I was, in fact, the instrument of her demise. At best, she'd forgive me in the afterlife. At worst, it would be an act so heinous she would go to her grave hating me with all the spite she could muster.

Such was the price one had to pay if one wanted to win at this game of life and death.

The rules were simple enough. Each student was given a name and a clothes pin before embarking for the park. The name was your mark. The clothes pin was your weapon. Your only two tasks were to somehow clip your victim with the pin without being seen by anyone, including your victim. Only then could you reveal to the poor dying body that you were in fact hired to kill them. Then you took their name as your next mark. This went on, killing and being killed, until there was only one student left. On the outside it seemed a simple game, but from the inside it was filled with treachery and deceit. Friends were turning on friends, cousins were killing their own family, and everywhere the bodies were piling up. I needed to be rid of my victim before I became the victim.

Nicole would never knew what hit her.


she's armed, she's extremely dangerous

I began to seek her out. Normally, we didn't talk much in or out of class. I figured, though, that with it being the last time we would see each other till next year that it would give me a good excuse to strike up a conversation. But what would be the best tactic? What would get me close enough to her to strike? That's when I deduced the best idea would be to just approach her plainly with rumors of who had her. It wasn't against the rules to help each other out with helpful hints. I would use the slight air of paranoia to endear myself to her. That was the plan, at least. It wasn't the most brilliant of ruses, but I don't think elaborate backstories were the way to go. I wanted to be believed and to do that, I needed to make sure I had a good reason why I would even be talking to her in the first place.

I spied her off alone with one of her best friends, Erin, the other girl I had a crush on in grade school. They were both lingering by the metal rocket ship in the far corner of the playground. Slowly I made my approach, nervous smile masking my deadly intent.

"Hey, Nicole. How are you?"

"Fine, Patrick."

"Hey, I think I overheard who may be gunning for you."

At this point in the conversation Erin was called over by someone else in class, who I was to later find out was her killer. I never saw the hit go down, naturally, but I heard it had been particularly clever. Her would-be assassin, Jimmy, distracted her by playing the old practical joke of slipping ice down her back. Then, when she was at her most irate, he made as if to get the cup of ice on the table. She immediately turned around to scoop the cup up. With her back to him, he was free to clip the telltale pin to the bottom of her t-shirt. That was it. She was dead.

Meanwhile, I finally had Nicole alone. I didn't even think was going to get that far. My whole trepidation had been in isolating her to the point where I could bump her off. I had never thought of what to do once this state had been achieved. Yet as we got to talking, with my planting false rumor after false rumor into her pretty little head, I came up with a foolproof plan.

I would clip her while we started walking back to the rest of the class. I'd wait until we were walking and then ever so slowly I would lag behind her. Once she had gained a few paces on me, I would tell her to wait up, then I'd jog up behind her and do it. One fell swoop. I'd run, bump into her, and place the clothes pin in the span of a few moments.

"Yeah, David's been eying you all day. I think it's him. I think he has you."

"You think?"

"Definitely. I'd stay away from him as much as possible if you want the trophy and the twenty bucks."

She gave me one of her twenty-thousand watt smiles, which made me all fuzzy inside. I felt bad lying to her, but it's what I needed to do to win. I only hoped in the end she wouldn't despise too much.

"Thanks, Patrick. Thanks for watching out for me," she said, patting me on the back.

I don't know which happened first--the sound of the clip snapping shut on the folds of my shirt, the increase in weight tugging at my collar, or seeing her smile shift into a somewhat mischievous grin. It didn't really matter.

I was dead.

With my last few glimpses of the world around me I saw, even in the grip of villainy, Nicole looked glorious. I died with a smile and the knowledge it wasn't pride or stupidity or even being out of shape that was my fatal flaw. Nope, I had been misled by the oldest of sirens, that of the smile of a pretty girl.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

We'll Travel In Class, Going Far, Follow The Stars, And We'll Be There For Sure

--"Tonight Is Forever", Acid House Kings

There's a point most days of the week that I look forward to. It's that point after I've been to the gym or out with Ilessa or whomever when I get to drive home. There's usually hardly anybody on the streets or the freeway. And it's quiet. I don't advocate driving really late at night, especially if you're really tired. Providence knows I've gotten into my fair share of close calls while trying to get back to my own bed before I have to be up the next morning. Yet I think there's a serenity in solitude that I find appealing. Even tonight, after working out kind of harder than I have all week at the gym, the first thing I thought of as I was gathering my stuff was how cool and relaxing the drive back was going to be. It's not even a long drive--at most, ten minutes--but I appreciate the time alone all the same.

Then again, I've always liked driving by myself. I've always liked the control over what CD I play, what route I take, and even how fast or slow I take the drive. Starting as far back as Tara I remember consciously making the choice to take the drive up from Santa Monica to Oxnard on PCH to clear my head. I must have made that drive about twenty times now. And it's the same every time. I start the drive mad as all hell, impatient with the whole world, and all I want to play is something loud and fast on the radio. However, by the end of drive, I've calmed down. Indeed, by the end of the drive it's usually two or three in the morning and I can't even remember what I was pissed off about. It's like I toss all my anxiety into the ocean waves below the cliffs I'm driving on, never to be seen again.

While every drive isn't as relaxing as that, they all accomplish the same goal. They all put me in a better mood. I admit it, I get in bad moods pretty quickly. It doesn't take a lot to annoy me. But it doesn't take a lot to turn me around either. Sometimes all it really takes is a drive somewhere and back to fix me. I can tell you that if I didn't have that hour or so to drive for lunch at work, I'd be a lot more stressed at my job. Sometimes I don't even like the food where I'm going to but I've calculated just how much driving and how many songs it's going to take for me to push through the last couple hours at my job. Shite, sometimes I don't even need to eat for lunch. Sometimes what I'm really looking for is the space between sitting at my terminal and having to return back to it.

And I don't even know why it makes a difference driving at night either. Sure, it's less crowded and, sure, it's a lot less bright. The biggest difference I think is the fact it feels like I'm out there alone. I own the night. There are stretches of PCH where it's pitch black and I won't see another car for ten or fifteen minutes. It feels like I'm on my own private road, the I've taken over the night and nobody can take it away from me. I don't answer my phone. I don't stop for gas (which has been the cause of many tense moments at one in the morning, I can tell you that much). I don't even try to predict when I'll be home. When I'm out driving out at night, it's not about how quickly I can get home. It's about enjoying the ride. As long as I get home in one piece to sleep the evening's memories away, I'm fine. I guess I'm just a person who thoroughly enjoys the driving experience, especially when it truly is about the journey and not the destination.


we are the city life
tonight is forever
until the lights go out

Yes, there are some days I wish I had company more often. But most of the time I dread shuttling people around in my car because it means they're talking over my songs usually about something entirely annoying. Or, worse yet, they're concentrating on something they want to discuss and missing out on the opportunity for sweet silence. There's plenty of time to talk when the car is at a complete stop, safely parked somewhere. For me I think driving or even being a passenger should hold some reverence with it. There's a time and place to busy yourself with the day's events, to share stories about what happened to you or how somebody you're seeing has messed up your entire day, and there's even a time and place to share a good laugh. A lot of the time I'm using my time to drive as an escape. That can't happen if you're constantly reminding me what I have to come back to once the ride is over. Let me have my delusion that I can drive forever, I say. Let me have that hour of happiness. The world's too much without a chance to get away from it, even if it's only by barricading oneself into the vehicle of his choice.

That's why it's got to be at night for me. That's the only time that all the conditions are favorable for losing myself to the music of the darkness.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

And I'm Giving You A Longing Look, Everyday, Everyday, Everyday I Write The Book

--"Everyday I Write The Book", Elvis Costello

My DirecTV has been on the fritz for the last few months. You see, last week Amber was taking care of her friend's dog when the beast jumped from the balcony to escape. If that weren't bad enough, it seems in the process of jumping it knocked loose some of the cables that run to my television and bring me my wonderful regularly televised entertainment daily. I mean--I feel sorry for the dog and all, but a crutch is called a crutch because that's what it's there for. Television is my crutch, if you must know.

Actually, I wouldn't say that's completely true. Yes, I do watch more than average people. When I was younger I used to watch 9 1/2 hours of television daily. I watched it while I did my homework. I watched while I was having dinner. I watched it almost from the time I got up in the morning till I went to school. Then I watched it again from the point I got home till I head to go to bed. It's safe to say that a lot of what I learned, I learned from television, as they say. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. I've stated before that a lot of my interests in reading were piqued because of something I'd seen on television. From deciding to read L.M. Montgomery after watching Anne of Green Gables and Avonlea to hearing a song on a commercial and deciding to purchase the appropriate album, television has always served as my cultural and artistic tour guide. I have always relied on television to provide a constant stream of information when it comes to showing me what more is out there. Yes, I have my friends, but they can't range over all aspects of life like television can. Yes, we all now have the internet, but the difference between surfing the web and surfing the tube is the difference between looking through a pantry for something to eat and looking at a menu for something to eat. The information has already been bundled up for you to take or leave as you please--no assembly required.

Yet, like I said, that's only the first step. I know television can be a wasteland of wasted minutes and has even been known to numb the mind for hours upon an end. However, the other great accomplishment television has achieved for me is to provide the spark for many of my stories. One of my more favorite stories, "Ten Minutes Later", I wrote after watching Little Giants on HBO. It's silly, but that story was entirely sparked by discovering the actress' name in the movie was named Shawna. Or, to take the opposite field, I used to watch episodes of Avonlea and write fan fiction for it. I never held delusions of being able to write an episode for it, but I did come up with one hell of a story that bridged two first season episodes adequately. More recently, I've had some success getting inspired by writing this blog for the last three years from instances I've seen that day on the boob tube. It doesn't have to be much, but since I spend a great deal of my day watching my cable while surfing the internet, it only follows that it would be impetus of delivering something important to me to all of you.

I guess you could say what I have to write is just the last step in processing what I've seen. It doesn't matter to me if what I've seen comes from my own life and my own anecdotes or if it stems from something more literary, like imagining how a novel is playing out or how a poem's metaphors and similes coalesce into something somewhat tangible, or if it, indeed, comes from something filmed and broadcast on television. It's all food for thought, which--excuse the metaphor--gets regurgitated back onto here or something more fictional. I don't know--I've heard the axiom that writers take in everything as the basis for their stories. What I lack in real-life experiences sometimes is made up in the staggering amounts of dramas, sit-coms, and other thought-provoking fare I discover in a day.

I miss my television not because I miss being a couch potato, but because I feel unproductive without it. That's not a statement you often hear. Yet for me I find myself uninspired to write on a daily basis without being able to watch my shows on a daily basis. That's the yin and the yang of my creative process.

I want my DirecTV, damn it all!

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Used To Believe In A Lot More, Now I Just See Straight Ahead, That's Not To Say I Don't Have Good Times, But As For My Days, I Spend Them Waiting

--"Science vs. Romance", Rilo Kiley



When I was in grade school I remember this kid named Jimmy writing a poem comparing life to a video game. We were all supposed to have been taking our first stabs at writing poetry. I forget what I wrote about; it might have something to do with feeding pills to dogs. Actually, most of what the class was writing was really forgettable. Jimmy's poetry was different. It was cynical and sophisticated. It really utilized the imagery of the day to convey a sense of ennui that you hardly ever find in someone that young. I don't know if he was writing from a genuine experience or if he was postulating how he would feel when he grew older, but it was very a complex range of emotions to put across so effectively.

As I've gotten older and had time to ruminate on the subject of life and growing, I've come to the opinion that it isn't like a video game. If anything, life is like a board game, specifically a Euro-style board game. Board games of that type can be characterized by a few things. One, their non-direct competitiveness. You're not going to find one person smashing the other like in Risk. Two, an emphasis placed on gameplay mechanics over theme almost to the point of abstraction. Three, and most importantly, the idea that you need to do A, B, C, & D to win, but having only the opportunity to do one each turn, whereby the chances to get around to the other requirements slip further and further away. Instead of the idea that life is comprised of all these instantaneous decisions amidst all the action and excitement of day-to-day existence, the older I get, the more I find it's a game of waiting. Life to me right now is an exercise in biding my time until what I want to happen can happen. Rather trying to fill up my time with pointless exchanges or irrelevant activities, I'm much more prone to days of doing nothing punctuated by a day or two of accomplishing something meaningful or truly enjoyable.

Think about it. I don't go out often with people--not as much as I used to in high school or college at least. But it isn't that I don't like going out; it's just that I've cut down on all the superfluous times going out just to go out. I'd much rather only attend the times that I can be with people whose company I find enlightening or enchanting. I'd much rather wait for occasions that are actually of some import rather than it just being the upcoming Friday or Saturday of that week. I suppose I have less to prove when it comes to living the semi-party lifestyle.

Or my whole waiting for Breanne crutch. I don't feel overly concerned that I'm not out there dating every day of the week. I'm perfectly content waiting for the right one.

Yet still, in keeping with my board game motif, I have fears that there's whole checklist of things that I'm waiting for that I know I'm never going to get around to accomplishing. I can't do it all. I know that now. Yet for me to feel any bit successful would mean accomplishing everyone of my tasks. Anything short of that would start to feel like I'm losing at this game. It's getting to the point where I'm starting to tally up my shortcomings rather than my victories. I'm sure that isn't healthy, but it's honestly what runs through my mind right now. What can I still cross off my list before I die and what can I afford to jettison should the timer starting edging closer to zero? That's how I have to see things now because, otherwise, I feel the enormity of all these dreams I had as a kid crushing me underneath the weight of failure.

For instance, I've been going out to board game meetings lately because I've always had an affinity for board games. Also, it's been one of my more off-the-wall goals to have a board game published. Until I've now shied away because I've always thought it really geeky and I've kind of been ashamed to admit how much of a closet board game geek I really am. But no more. Just from the last few weeks of going all day to these things, I can't tell you how much I enjoy the experience of being able to play with other people who share a passion for the same hobby. I actually regret not trying one of these meetings out sooner. To give you an indication of how I wrapped up I get during these meetings, I usually eat breakfast before I go. But then I don't eat again until I'm already coming home--sometimes ten or twelve hours later. It isn't because I ignore my hunger or that I don't want to be rude to leave for lunch in the middle of a game. I actually forget to eat, so wrapped am I in playing, an occurrence that hardly ever happens.

That's just one of the things I wished I had gotten around to doing before now. I think I would have been a lot happier had I just gone with my instincts and not let the idea that it was somehow beneath me overshadow my curiosity. That's one thing I didn't need to wait for and one thing had I gotten around to before now could have probably allowed more avenues for other tasks that I needed to accomplish.

I should have been bolder in that aspect and let other areas that never really interested me fall to the wayside. That's another aspect of euro games I like. You don't lose by another person taking advantage of you. You lose because you prioritized wrong; you did A instead of B. You lose because you thought you had the cards to do one strategy, but you were better suited to doing another. That was me. I thought I knew what I liked, but it was mostly my concentrating too much on what I thought I should like. I focused too much on making my weaknesses more manageable, when I should have been going full-bore with my strengths. My strengths have always been in dealing with stuff that combines imagination with logic. I've never been one thing or the other. I've always written best when I not only could picture what the characters were like, but their motivations as well. I've always been equally adept at writing stories as well as creating games of skill.

The games especially I have neglected for too long. When I think about all the boring functions I went because somebody thought I might like it when my instincts were telling me I already didn't, I realize how many more of what I like I could have done. I'm not talking about the times somebody recommended I might actually like. I'm talking about the times I had no business being somewhere and still went because I was trying to impress something or thought I could change to make them like me better.

That's why I like this waiting concept better. Instead of feeling the urge to ride every wave that comes my way like I used to, I'm going to choose to only invest my time in those waves that are actually exciting to me.

I mean--I do it with my steak. I only eat steak three or four times a year. I only eat it when I can get to a premier steakhouse. I don't see the point in doing something I enjoy if it can't be completely enjoyable. There's a countdown to each and every one of our lives. You don't know how many turns you have left, but you know you don't have enough to accomplish everything you've set before you. The best you can do is get to accomplishing those things you best enjoy and let the rest fall away.

You've waiting long enough and your turn's coming up. How do you want to play it?

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers