Sunday, February 27, 2005 | by nathan

some ideas I’m kicking around…

i’m getting close to finishing the novel, and as much as I’d like to sell it, I am worried it won’t be sellable. but i have this debt of honor i made to myself, plus i have to do the stupid thing for a class, so i soldier on.

still, i am excited about the writing life because i keep getting all of these great ideas, and being in the Masters of Professional Writing program, I think I’m going to need lots of good ideas.

so here are a few. feedback is appreciated re: which one I should do next.

1) Last semester when I was living with my dad in Weatherford I was writing one day and this character and her world came into my head, fully formed. Her name was Jess, and her story was like mine, because most of my fiction is very autobiographical. She’d gone to a great school in the Northeast (maybe a good chance to lampoon Yale), met a man, fallen in love, gone to New York, had her heart broken, come home. Her father is a physics prof at a school not unlike SWOSU, and he raised her alone from the age of 10 because her mother died. When she comes back to live at home, from NYC to this tiny little college town on the plains, she is recovering from a bad relationship wherein she may have smoked the tiniest bit of marijuana every day, she is having to see people from high school, which is awkward because she never liked any of them, and she’s finding out - accidentally - all kinds of things about the person her mother was before she died. It is a series of unfolding revelations, and I’ve drawn up a brilliant cast of science profs, gay musical theatre majors, old high school friends with careers and families, Calvinists. I’d like to write this novel. I think it has some potential.

2) Today I was watching the documentary “Trekkies” because I really was that bored, and I’m fascinated by the whole culture that has arisen around Star Trek because I think it’s kind of creepy and weird. And I was thinking last night how I wish my family was just normal, and not so prone to hurting each other and riddled with financial problems. And this idea just hit me for a coming-of-age story about a kid whose parents are big Trekkies, and how he is growing up and kind of hating them for not just being regular parents. This is a new idea, and would probably make a really good screenplay, but I really really like it. Give me 24 hours and I’ll probably have some character sketches drawn up. Here’s a snippet of dialogue I already wrote between the son and his mother:
“Did you find religion all of a sudden?”
“No, why?”
“You’re wearing a WWJD bracelet.”
“No, that’s for ‘What Would Janeway Do?’”
“I hate my whole life.”

3) I’m also fascinated by drag queens, because drag is something I would never, ever, ever do. I cannot imagine the appeal of being in women’s clothing. So I’d like to write a kind of “Flashdance” story about drag queens - maybe “too-cool” gay guy has to make money and someone talks him into doing drag. I dunno. The plot line is sketchy at best, and what with all the music, this would almost have to be a screenplay. But it could be a hell of a lot of fun, especially if it ever got made. Think like “Priscilla Queen of the Desert” meets “West Side Story” meets “Flashdance.” Of course, I’d have to hang out with a lot of drag queens for research, and this thought is frightening at best.

4) Liz wants me to write her a play that she can direct about coming-out stories, also possibly involving drag queens (that was her idea). I’ve never written a play before but am burning to learn how. Perhaps this should come next so she can have it for next semester. After all, it is just a 10-30 minute thing, shouldn’t take too long. I think it could be good.

So what do you think? Any of these sound appealing?

Sunday, February 27, 2005 | by nathan

i am grateful and impatient

when i was twelve years old, my mom sold our house in weatherford, oklahoma, because it was a sad place for all of us to be living. she’d just divorced my father, i was miserable in school because i was getting beat up physically and emotionally all the time, and we were all just generally completely miserable.

on my first day at school at brink junior high in moore, oklahoma, a “white flight” suburb that has become the white trash capital of the greater oklahoma city metropolitan area, i met a kid named eric ankenman. for some reason i know that the date was august 24, 1992. we were friends from that day forward, and we survived the general malaise and rollercoaster that was secondary school by banding together, being smart, kicking under our breaths at the stupid people we had to see every day. he is a big part of the way that God made me a believer. he introduced me to rich mullins. he’s getting married in january.

it’s eleven months away - great - but i just found out. and i’m excited for him, because he’s had quite a rocky road when it comes to his relationships with women. but as far as i am concerned, i am not okay. i’ve listened to that caedmon’s call song “can’t lose you” about a million times now, because it describes so perfectly how i’m feeling. i’m scared that everyone’s going to get married and make babies - of whom i am intensely afraid - and i’m going to still be here, trying to write, living at home, until the end of time.

joel new told me last night that this is a stupid way to feel, and he is correct. but that does not make the feelings go away. it doesn’t make it all right, and it doesn’t make me not afraid. as great as it has been to marry off everybody in the past few years, because it has, i am also feeling more alone than usual.

two nights ago i decided to buy “I Heart Huckabees” on DVD and invite Laurie and Jaye and Erica and Alex over to watch it. I said I’d make curry chicken, which I’ve learned how to make recently, and we’d have wine and dinner and watch the movie. It was great. I was with two couples.

Erica told me last night she’s been feeling left out of our group lately. I wanted to be like, “Honey, you don’t know from left out.”

In general I’m just sad, not because I don’t want my friends to get married, but because I have some truly fucked-up ideas about what it means when people get married - that they are automatically more grown-up, spiritual, connected to Jesus, plugged-in, and happier. This is, of course, patently untrue - “A lie from the pit of Hell” as Greg Farrand would say - but in a dark part of me I buy into it. I wish I wasn’t so sick.

You know, three months ago I was fine with being single. Then I met Jonathan and had that whole thing happen, and I got hurt. Then I started missing the shit out of Joel and am really hurting about how I treated him. And now, I’m not okay. And every time I get to where I’m okay to be single, I meet someone, and the whole process starts over again.

last night laurie’s little sister, carrie, had a birthday party for her boyfriend. i went because i love carrie branscum, and because there were free margaritas, tequila shots, and hpnotiq. all of which are things i love. laurie told me that i should come because there was going to be a “cute and sophisticated” gay boy there named Chris (although, I’ve really sworn off of dating people with that first name). I admit, i was intrigued but just couldn’t get it up emotionally to meet this guy. i was quite relieved when he never showed up.

then, i spent the entire night with laurie and jaye, carrie and taha, and another couple. i was a seventh wheel. so, i got funny, danced like a spastic white person, smoked a tiny little pack of cigarettes, and tried not to think about my own shitty little feelings. i missed church because i was hung over.

what does all this mean? I dunno. it means I am a sinner, because, well, everything seems to mean that. which isn’t to play down that fact, but I think it means more than just that. it means that i am bad at taking care of myself, and being alone, but also, that i really do believe i won’t be worthy of a real, healthy, lasting relationship until i’ve published my book, caught myself up financially, gotten out of oklahoma, gotten into perfect shape physically, and figured out exactly how much jesus loves me and found humility and grace to love all people.

so, quarter after five next tuesday.

i know this thinking is stupid. i do. but it’s there, and i hate it, and it seems to be staring me in the face a lot these days. i’m starting to hate oklahoma. i am praying to God that this degree i’m getting proves to be much more useful than the one i already have, and that i can find just the smallest measure of success, just enough to get me somewhere else in life.

ever since i left yale i’ve been spinning my wheels. getting back into school may be the first step out of that mud pit i was in, and i am grateful - so so so grateful - for the chance to do this degree. but i’m worried that it won’t work out, because very little has been working out in my life the past several years. i’m scared that i’m going to get plowed under again. mom told me the other day that this degree is my “last chance,” because after this she and dad can’t pay for me to go to school anymore. thanks. takes the pressure right off.

so pretty much, things have to work out. and i know that they will, although not in any way I can imagine because God has these crazy plans to prosper me and not to harm me. i’m just confused and frightened and not trusting like I’d like to be, and, well, you can pray for me.

today, i don’t like the person that i am. but i know that Jesus does. i am praying to see pleasure on my Father’s face, because I need a cheerleader right about now. I’m going to turn that caedmon’s song off and listen to something a little more hopeful.

current song: “Got To Be Real” by Cheryl Lynn. and yes, I am dancing around the kitchen like a spastic white person.

Thursday, February 24, 2005 | by nathan

Commies for Jesus

I just took the Worldview Test for the second time today, and for the second time I have been informed that I am a “Secular Humanist Worldview Thinker.” Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t like people enough to be a secular humanist, and that this is actually one of the worst insults you can level at someone like me, who believes so strongly in the Fall, in its necessity for having a clear view of the world, of God, and of oneself.

Granted, this test (http://www.worldviewweekend.com/test/register.php) was brought to you by Worldview Weekend.com, a far right blog site, so I should probably just take it with a grain of salt and let it go. But you see, they called me a secular humanist. This I cannot readily forgive.

The best part about this, of course, is that I pretty much failed all of their tests. The test as a whole is divided into sections: Civil Government, Economics, Family, Law, Religion, Science, and Social Issues. On Civil Government, Economics, Family, Law, and Science I scored as either a Secular Humanist Worldview Thinker, or, even worse, a Communist/Marxist/Socialist/Secular Humanist Worldview Thinker. On Religion and Social Issues, however, I seem to have a Strong Biblical Worldview. So, as a Christian, I’m making about D-minus.

So I decided I’d better put on some Rich Mullins, and fast. Current iPod song: “Elijah.”

See, it’s not the fact that some right-wing freak at a computer screen in East Cupcake Idaho thinks I’m a Communist that’s bothering me. It’s the fact that because he and I disagree on things like welfare, the lottery, and whether or not the founding fathers were believers - I mean, let’s not even get into abortion and homosexuality - that I am not a believer. Or, at the very least, I am much lacking in my faith.

The funny thing about the test - other than the fact that it exists - is that there are five options for every question: No Opinion, Strongly Agree, Tend to Agree, Tend to Disagree, Strongly Disagree. Pretty straightforward, except that when you get your answers, the right answers are printed beneath them, and they are always either “Strongly Agree” or “Strongly Disagree.” And there are bunch of what I call “bait questions” - things like “Physically and mentally healthy adults that do not work should not be protected from suffering the consequences of their action.” How on Earth are you supposed to answer that thoughtfully?

You might say, “Hey, Nate, what’s the big deal?” Unless you’re one of my lovely Reformed friends, in which case, you probably get it too.

In the big scheme of thing, this tiny test is not a big deal. What it represents, however, is huge, because it is one of the most common perversions of the Gospel that I see in 21st century American Christianity, which is the idea that you aren’t a true believer - not a real one - if you’re not also on board with a certain political agenda and lifestyle. While I do believe that our faith should inform the way we view the world, and politics, I am not sure that a Christian worldview sees people on welfare as “cheats,” automatically signs on to the death penalty, and dismisses evolutionary theory out of hand. More than this, however, I do not believe that a Christian worldview is one in black-and-white. I don’t believe that these issues define the quality or existence of one’s faith in Jesus. I don’t want anyone praying for me because I don’t view Genesis 1 as being a literal account of the creation of the world 6,000 years ago in six days.

I could argue about the Bible being a spiritual work and not a scientific one. I could argue chapters in Luke that seem to me to refute the idea of supply-side economics. But I don’t really care. Feel free to be a conservative Republican and *shiver* vote for George W. Bush. Just don’t expect to enjoy hanging out with me. But don’t try to tell me that I occupy a lesser place in the Body of Christ, that my faith is suffering, or that I am in any way of a lower station because I voted for Kerry, am pro-choice, anti-death penalty, and gay. My faith is sustained by the Holy Spirit, and it is on this basis that I am called the adopted son of God.

I’m a pretty thoughtful person, so these thoughts don’t get in my head and screw with me. But they used to. And they screw with a lot of people I know and care about. I have friends who automatically assumed that because they were Christian that they had to vote for Bush. I have others who assume they cannot become believers because of their political stance, or the fact that they buy into evolutionary theory. This kind of thinking subtly turns people away from the Savior by setting for them a standard which is at once far too low, and far too high. It is far too low in that God has much higher aspirations for our sanctification than the refinement of our political beliefs and the elimination of personal intellectual diversity and dialogue. It is too high in that there is no room for doubt, disagreement, shades of gray, or even for thinking for oneself. One is expected, upon coming to Christ, to immediately know all the answers to all the questions, when in fact, the moment of one’s conversion is the moment at which questioning finally becomes okay, and safe.

I’m trying really hard not to judge the modern church too harshly, because she is the Bride of Christ, and we all know that she is flawed, and being dragged along toward redemption. Still, when I see the Gospel - and God’s people - being screwed with like this, I can’t help but get angry. So I must pray for repentance, for the courage to look inside and see my own sin, to love the people who are causing me so much offense.

Also, I must repent of my evil Commie ways and turn to a worldview that is more friendly to rich, white, upperclass straight fundamentalists. Because they don’t have it easy enough.

We’re still a work in progress here.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005 | by nathan

Egosturbation

If you want to be a writer, one of the things you have to contend with is fear. In my statement of purpose for getting admitted to the university of oklahoma I said that it would be a disaster for them not to let me in, because, frankly, writing is the only marketable skill I think I might have, and it’s very possible that my degree in religion and philosophy from one of the top undergraduate institutions in the nation might mean that I am qualified to starve, but little else, and therefore, in the interest of saving a life, my admittance to the MPW program was required.

So writers are afraid, a lot of the time. We are afraid of the same things everyone else is, but accountants do not have to face this fear as tangibly as we do, because accountants get paid every two weeks. They show up and their job is more or less routine, and someone cuts them a check. Doesn’t suck. Writers show up at their computers and in their own heads and spill forth all our greatest, shared fears and secrets - or at least, the good ones do. Barbara Cartland probably did very little of this, although, to be fair, I’ve read so very little of her.

Writers are also in a constant state of what I call “egosturbation:” your ego is constantly getting rubbed one way, and then another, until you have some kind of minor meltdown, or, God help us, breakthrough. I can tell I’m quickly on my way to one or the other, because the pace has quickened of late.

I helped Tish edit a paper this morning, which was great fun for several reasons. First, talking on the phone to Tish Warren is always fun. Also, the paper was smart and insightful, the conversation it entered into important and enlightening. She kept telling me what a good editor I was, which was fantastic, because I’d absolutely love to move to New York and work as an editor at some major (or hell, even minor) publishing company. Ego: stroked.

Then I went to my tutorial with Jim Davis, who, as far as I can tell, is a successful and well-respected writer, if not, like most of the writers here, especially hard-on for literary fiction, which is my genre of choice (or calling, we’ll see). He seems to really like my book and where I’m going with it, and I get three credits for meeting with him for 20 minutes a week. Mostly we talk about Aristotle and Sartre, because we’re both in love with philosophy, and ideas, and how they relate to the way we live, and especially to the way we write. Granted, I’m writing about a gay man who is doing everything in his power to destroy his own life, and he’s writing novelizations of Law and Order episodes, but he’s getting paid, and I’m not. Also, he’s smart and I don’t care what he writes as long as the occasional bits of advice he gives me are helpful, which they are. More so than the Novel Writing class I spend four hours a week in. Ego: stroked.

Talking with Jim, the subject was broached: I said, “I want to sell this book. I’ve been writing these since I was 8, and this one I’m more in love with than anything I’ve ever done.” I sounded desperate, and crazy, which is what writers are, deep inside. So he told me a couple stories:

1) A Canadian author recently sold his first book, a 1300-page opus which takes place in the Spanish Baroque era. This led us to a long and scathing discussion of Ayn Rand, but anyone familiar with the publishing world - anyone who reads, really - can imagine how hard it is for a first author to sell a book. Add to that how hard it is for any author to sell a 1300-page book. Also, the extreme difficulty in selling a book about the Spanish Baroque. Add these together, and I’m thinking the guy had an in with Zaphod Beeblebrox and his Improbability Drive, because damn. It gave me hope. Ego: stroked, if not a little confused.

2) Another first-time author was recently paid a $2 million advance. This has angered the literary world, especially because the book for which he was paid - a thriller called “The Day After Tomorrow” (not related to the film) - ended up being panned by critics and a general literary mess. Ego: who the hell knows? This was confusing.

Also, Jim said that finding an agent isn’t so much like finding a needle in a haystack as it is like finding one in Kansas (my analogy, not his). “No one just sends their stuff off to agents. Hardly anybody gets their agent that way.” Oh, well, shit. That was pretty much my plan of attack. It’s like if you’d told the Japanese fighter pilots, “You can go ahead and bomb Pearl Harbor, but just know that the US doesn’t really give a shit about Hawai’i.” Would they still have gone through with it? Ego: crushed.

Well, I’m still going through with it, because I need to at least be able to pretend there’s an option out there for me. Maybe I’ll be that rare exception to the rule that isn’t really the rule, as it turns out. The first step, of course, is to finish the book and make it as good as possible, which is a whole other area of fear and self-loathing. But I’m in love with the material, and a quick read of a classmate’s novel (she was using a Mac in the lab, I used Remote Desktop to spy as she wrote. Is this wrong?) proves that I am not, contrary to my secret belief, the worst writer in the world, or even in my class. The sick pleasure I got from this negated any potential ego boost, so I’m going to have to say, Ego: stroked then crushed in rapid succession.

I won’t even get into what a bad person I am, suffice it to say I’m praying for a spirit of redemption but would settle for a Klondike Bar.

Also, it got cold and rainy in a heartbeat last night, the cat was freaking out about the lightning, and I had to put her in my room, which is actually more difficult than bathing her. But, Julian came over for dinner and we finished off a bottle of Chardonnay and another of Merlot. So I’m wicked tired today, and I have little in the way of anything actual to say, except it’s a scary place out there. Take care of each other, and be sure to share your bananas.

Thursday, February 17, 2005 | by nathan

Working Out My Issues

You remember how every time you’d start a new school year you got to go shopping for school clothes? At first - for me anyway - it was fun, because new things, especially new clothes, are always fun. But then you got into junior high, and for some reason it started to matter what you wore. People would make fun of you when you wore your favorite shirt to school. How did kids always know, anyway? I never did have that radar that other kids seem to. It seemed like they knew instinctively when you might be feeling the least bit good about yourself and that was the day they would eat you alive. “Oh goody!” you’d say. “My favorite shirt is out of the dryer and I can wear it to school today!” And you’d get to school and the first thing that would happen - I mean the first fucking thing that would happen - is that you would be beset by the two biggest, most intimidating, coolest guys who would give you shit all day about your shirt, or your shoes, or your hair, and by the end of the day you wanted nothing more than to never see that shirt again. And you’d be damned if you were ever wearing it to school after that. Dude - if I could just have five minutes alone with my junior-high self, the things I’d say to him.

So?

I enjoy clothes. In about the tenth grade I gave up trying to gain acceptance through my clothes, because the body underneath just wasn’t supporting fashion, and anyway, people seemed to finally start leaving me alone once I hit the tenth grade. So I got to have fun being mostly-plain-dressing Nathan. Last year I worked for a men’s clothing store, where I got a lot of cool, very nice clothes like suits and Cole Haan shoes. It was great. When I lost that job I turned the whole look in on itself and - as an act of rebellion against Harold’s - punked/gayed out the look. Also, last year, my waist was a very shapely 31 inches. I even had man-cleavage! (Which, if you don’t know what that is, feel free to ask. It’s not as dirty as it sounds).

Well. In the intervening time I did a lot of no-job-having, plus a lot of really proactive laying around, and some truly quality smoking. I’ve quit all of these nasty habits, but unfortunately, I only have three pairs of pants I can squeeze into. So I’ve had to start working out again, and being really careful about what I eat. Which is actually good, because it tends to start my day off right, with some good exercise, but holy crap am I sore. It hurts so good.

Anyway, it took me about 3 months last time to get down to my nice little 31, and since I have now explored the world of substance use and abuse and extreme, Olympic-quality laziness, I don’t feel the need to do this as an experiment. Hopefully now it will become some type of lifestyle change. I’m talking about it here so that those of you who read this - we may be up to four by now - will get on my ass and make sure I keep doing it. Because I’m sick of wearing the same three pairs of jeans all the time. Also, I want to be able to go shirtless at Pride this year, because that mo’ fo’ gets hot in the middle of June.

What’s funny about this time as compared to last is that last time I worked out and got in great shape, I did it because I felt like I had something to prove. Maybe I proved it, or maybe it just doesn’t matter anymore. But this time, I’m doing it because I know it’s the best thing for me. I don’t want to have a heart attack at 45 or adult-onset diabetes, both of which happened to my dad. Also, I’ve not been tempted to smoke once since I started this whole shindig, so I think it’s working. Granted, I’m hella-hungry, which is why I’m about to have a healthful sandwich delivered to the computer lab, but overall things are proceeding along quite well.

In other news, still freaking out about money. I have a speeding ticket to pay by the 1st, a credit card payment due, and an old phone bill to get paid off. And all that’s on top of what the paycheck I’m getting tomorrow is going toward. Grrr… I know the Lord always works things out with my sucking vacuum of a check book, but I wish He’d go ahead and come through on this now - “It would be so much skin off your nose?” - rather than make me do all this crazy praying.

current iPod song: “I’ll Take You On” by Howie Day.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005 | by nathan

can I please be one of The Writers?

I came to the computer lab after my tutorial feeling like a million dollars. Because Prof. Davis, whose suggestions usually turn into rollicking discussions of life in a trailer park or the dramatic advice of Aristotle, said that my book was good. He - said - it - was - good! He actually seemed interested in my crack-addicted infant of a novel. I felt like I was glowing. When I got to the computer lab - because I was inspired to work - I ran into Julian, and we went to lunch. I decided to say “Fuck my diet” because I was feeling so great, and we went over to Cates and ate Taco Mayo. Yeah yeah. All week of working out for nothing now. Oh well. It’s only Wednesday for fuck’s sake.

Then, of course, I went to Novel class, and started to feel like shit about my work again. This always seems to happen when I take writing classes - I get a professor who’s had some success in the field (Deborah, my prof, was recently inducted into the Writer’s Hall of Fame - who knew there was one of those?) and they seem to think that I, and my work, are shit and impossible to sell.

I asked Deborah if it’s true that most first novels are more autobiographical, and she said yes, but publishers hate that kind of thing and you’re looking at a really hard sell. Oh well fucking just fine. I adore her for so many reasons, but I feel as if she’s trying to fit us into a mold of the kind of writer she thinks we should be. Prof. Davis helped me out this morning because he disagreed with several things she said. “Every scene doesn’t have to end in disaster for your protagonist as long as it moves the drama forward,” he said. Still, Deb’s selling books and I’m selling muffins. So really - maybe I should just shut up and listen. I never did learn that the first part of being a student is humility. Probably why I’m such a bad one.

Anyway. It was great to have lunch with Julian. I love that guy to death. And Kevin’s here now, who is one of Julian’s roommates. Their whole house is cool, really.

current iPod song: “Better Luck Next Time” by Scissor Sisters. I’m trying not to fall asleep. My shift in the lab starts in an hour. Mur.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005 | by nathan

My house smells good.

So wonderful Ben Hines has placed the second order of Muggins. YEAH!! That means I won’t say anything mean to him over IM for at least a week.

And my culinary adventures continue, as I got a recipe for tofu curry from Seth, my boss at the computer lab. Of course, he gave himself serious skin damage by exploding his oven in his face. I skipped that step. I’m on a strict no-burning-myself diet (which I broke by burning myself on the oven when I took the tofu out).

Also, the recipe was stupid. It called for “a cup or two” of water. What kind of a recipe is this? Next time, I’m eliminating the water and cutting way down on the amount of olive oil - Seth said to use “as much as is needed to mix everything together.” (I mean, what?)

So I had to bake the tofu by itself before adding the curry sauce in order to get it firm enough. I’ll know better next time. Still, it was tasty and filling, and we had Pinot Grigiot with it - and a Venetian vintage at that! Woot!

Also, Karl turned me on to a new band I’m loving - Chomsky.

And, for the past few days, I’ve had extremely rewarding conversations with Joel New, who I love deeply and miss greatly.

Now. Several weird things have happened with that. One is that I began missing Joel hard-core out of nowhere. I mean - ever since he left for New York, taking a sizable chunk of my heart with him, I’ve missed him. But it was like the past two weeks the volume got turned up real loud on those feelings and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Then - bam - one night I was checking Friendster completely out of the blue, and I had a message from him. So I wrote him, and he called me.

The other weird thing I can’t stop thinking about is New York City, which is where Joel is. I keep feeling like it’s where I need to be.

Well - if you’ve spoken to me you know I’m in no position financially or academically or professionally to go anywhere, which is part of the reason I’m hoping UPM (Unlikeliest Place Muggins) turns out to be a multi-billion-dollar-a-year corporation (but not an evil corporation), because I want to get out of Oklahoma, which I love and cherish but need to shed like an old skin. Still, I have an opportunity here to get a potentially useful degree and some good experience writing locally, so I must stay for at least another year and a half, possibly two. And yet, I find it hard to watch any movies or TV shows set in New York, because I just pine for that city. I absolutely love it. The first time I ever set foot there, I felt at home. And Joel’s there, and if I’m being honest, which I am, there’s a huge chunk of me that still loves him very, very much and wishes he were here tonight.

But he’s not. And clearly - clearly - I’m not ready to be there, because if I were, I would be there, or getting ready to go. But I’m not. I’m here, and there’s some reason. Even if Bryon Chambers did change his cell number a month ago and still hasn’t called to tell me that (I had to get the new number from Julian in the computer lab today, which left me feeling like that really irritating friend who doesn’t know he’s not wanted). Even if I have zippo money, and if this stupid book doesn’t deliver for me then I don’t know what I’m going to do. Even if I have to come up with like $400 in the next week just to keep from falling behind - or, in the case of my speeding ticket, from getting issued a warrant.

My life. How I love you, but like a teenage child loves its parents. “I love you, but leave me the hell alone.”

Monday, February 14, 2005 | by nathan

The Only Boyfriend You’ll Ever Need…today.

On this unholy St. Valentine’s day, I would like to sing the praises of my boyfriend, iPod.

He never talks back. He has no relationship issues. He goes everywhere with me happily. He’s kicky and attractive and the latest thing to have, and everyone envies him.

Today, as I was walking across campus - I wore shorts and Locals today because it’s so warm and windy - “Sunday Bloody Sunday” came on and I got into listening to it. I got a kind of a half-stock. And it had nothing to do with any cute boys nearby, because, for once, there were none. It’s just that song (and I was listening to the live version, where Bono goes, “Fuck the Revolution!”). I got all naughty-tingly down there. All this from iPod. And, if that weren’t enough, he romanced me further by following that song with “Falling” by the Comsat Angels. I’m telling you, he’s the absolute shit.

You keep your flesh-and-blood lovers. I’m going to stick with my iPod, who almost never lets me down.

Sunday, February 13, 2005 | by nathan

The Velvet Teen Is Good

I’ve spent my entire shift at work so far surfing Friendster, which is greatly addictive. Apparently my two disparate friends Ben and Eric know one another, which is funny, since I met Eric in CT and Ben over GCN. The world is a pretty small place. Miniscule, really.

Today, my shirt says, “My Other Girlfriend Is A Super Model.” I should’ve saved it for tomorrow night’s class on Race, Gender, and the Media, which is full of dumb, skinny-ass sorority girls who all want to be the Weather Girl. I’m really glad Jesus loves them as much as He does, because I find them mostly intolerable.

It was a beautiful day outside. I went for a walk with mom. Our money problems are getting worse instead of better, and I’m praying so hard that God will keep our rickety boat together. It always seems to be just one loose screw away from coming apart and sinking.

Last night I went to Laurie and Jaye’s and we finished watching “Wonderfalls,” which they’d never seen. They loved it of course, and next I need to introduce them to “Firefly.”

this is my life.

I dream of a lot of things lately - getting the book finished, being published, having actual money, going to New York. I got to talk to Joel New the other day, which absolutely lifted my spirits. Funny how you don’t know what you got till….

iPod song: “A Captive Audience” by The Velvet Teen.

Good night all.

Thursday, February 10, 2005 | by Nate

A Review of Other Blogs…

There’s that fun “Next Blog” button up top there. See it? Hit it. See what you can find. I’ve been laughing myself silly for hours. I love mocking the human condition. My comments - when necessary - are in parenthesis.

As I write this, I am appalled that in the year 2005 I would be sitting here stressing over such barbaric behavior as that exhibited by the Board of Directors of the Countryside Community Club Association in Northwest Tucson. (An issue with which we are all concerned. More entries as the UN becomes involved).

Adequate life insurance to cover your income producing ability is a product that is really needed today to give peace of mind. Life insurance was originally conceived to protect a man’s family when his death left them without income. Over time is has developed into a variety of policy plans. In a “whole life” policy, fixed premiums are paid throughout the insured’s lifetime; this accumulated amount, augmented by compound interest, is paid to a beneficiary in a lump sum upon the insured’s death; the benefit is paid even if the insured had terminated the policy. Under “universal life,” the insured can vary the amount and timing of the premiums; the funds compound to create the death benefit. (This was adapted from Katie Johnson’s 11th grade Business Class report on Life Insurance).

shih tzu breeders mississippi shih tzu breeders mississippi Offers shih tzu breeders mississippi with a product or service that delivers shihtzu puppies for sale abilene texas and dog poodle shih tzu. Or at the library. Or even on the Internet. In fact, it’s like no other pooch book you’ve ever seen before. Offers shih tzu breeders mississippi with a product or service that delivers shihtzu puppies for sale abilene texas and dog poodle shih tzu. .. (I mean WHAT?)

These are our friends Weeble and Sprocket. They are the cats of the famous DJ – DJ Shinypants!!! Our person sometimes visits Weeble and Sprocket and we have entertained DJ Shinypants, but us cats have never been able to meet in the fur. We are forced to have a virtual friendship. Apparently they live in a house with three floors and outdoor access and they have this AWESOME lounge where their DJ person likes to spin records. We could get into THAT. Hopefully, we can all meet up one day, although it would be quite a hike to travel the three miles to get to the Shinypants pad. DJ Shinypants spins at Wonderland the third Saturday of each month; maybe we can meet up then! (Or if nothing else, when DJ Shinypants comes to visit your person in the place where the nice men in white took her).

my classmates have been asking me.. so, how uve been doing? have u got over him? how u feeling right now?? haiz.. so you guys want the answers huh?? here goes.. ive been doing shitty… and no, ive not gotten over him.. not fully… and i’m feeling rotten right now… yep.. thats the truth.. the feelings comes and goes.. when it happens, it happens.. u know.. i shudnt brood over it.. cos its over… but i cant help feeling bad at times.. i’m human.. i have feelings too.. but that doesnt mean that everytime i’m down its abt him.. i have my own reasons.. alright, by right i should apologise.. cos i shudnt be behaving the way i am.. but everytime u ppl ask, the feelings just came back.. i do not know why.. perhaps the questions simply brought back hopes.. empty hopes.. haiz… wait.. why the hell am i writing this?? lets change the topic… hrmzz… what shall we talk abt?? what abt constantine?? argh!!! keanu reeves is so hot! argh!! hehehehe.. i thnk im falling head over heels with him.. but dont worry orli, u shall always be my first! hehehehe… aites, since azlina has atleast 10 husbands, i shall now make my own list of husbands… wahahaha!!..
Orlando Bloom
Chad Micheal Murray
Josh Hartnett
Matt Damon
Keanu Reeves
Hayden Christensen
Shawn Ashmore (Iceman in X-Men United)
Eric Bana
Robert Schwartzman
hrmmzzz…

anyone wanna be my 10th?? ahahahhakkzz.. k larh.. see ya! (Please God - Don’t let me end up on the List of Husbands. It’s like something out of a Stephen King novel).

2boysmama

The random musings of a full time mom,full time OR nurse, and someone who, according to her husband, is obsessed with knitting. I am a Birkenstock wearing, yoga practicing, crunchy granola eating compassionate conservative. I am a member of the vast right wing conspiracy! (Ooh! I bet you also listen to that one fast-paced song on the Celine Dion CD, don’tcha? Don’tcha? This was just the intro to her blog. She must be destroyed).

One of my other profs ignores me everytime I raise my hand to answer a guestion, now I know I don’t raise my hand the highest, because that is just not me, but then she has no right to lecture me for not taking part in the classroom discussions, when she expects us to raise our hands to give answers, but then doesn’t look closely enough to see if my hand is raised!!! Wow, furious about that one as well…but…God loves her and God loves me too!!!! (That might be up for debate if I was God. Good thing I’m not).

Provides several 1953 ford sale truck resources. Click here if you are looking for 1953 ford sale truck. (This was all there was. On every entry).

I don’t know if anybody does this, but I sing at the top of my lungs to some high energy in-your-face song every once in awhile. The Hives, The Donnas, and even Ashlee Simpson are good for this. It feels so good to get everything out by literally screaming. My parents, I think, have caught on to my little sessions of insane release and know not to bother me because that ends in certain death. Then at the end I belch and I know it’s over and I can go back to being me. (Go back to being attractive, ladylike, wonderful, Ashlee-Simpson-listening you).

THIS FROM THE SAME ONE…

This thing with Ken had become complicated to me. This weekend I realized that we had nothing in common and that turned me away from him. I’ve been avoiding him, so shot me! Everyone is like why don’t you like him, he’s totally in love with you. Well that’s not everybody, just Joey. I guess that he’s totally in love with me is what scares me. I don’t want to be with the same guy the rest of my high school years. Is that wrong? And there’s the other side of my conscious that says he’s totally adorable and your going to break his heart. So that makes me feel guilty, like I’m leading him on in a way. Ooooo what am I going to do? (Should the third sentence be, “I’ve been avoiding him, so he shot me?” or “I’ve been avoiding him, so shoot me?” Because if someone already beat me to it, I’d like to know before I go to all the trouble.)