A three step process in lessons learned

Morning comes at my apartment and we cuddle together on the couch. I make coffee and slouch next to you on the sofa, playing with your hair, and watching reruns of Man vs. Food. We discuss plans for later on, but that morning is the last time I'll see you for a long time, although when I'm heading into work I don't know this. You didn't mean to make it hurt, but I was surprised. I should have asked more questions.

It's evening beside a pool in Phoenix. I saw you briefly before I headed out to the desert, but the visit left little but unanswered questions. When I go to my computer I find an email from you. You say you'll try to make things right when I get home, and I'm disappointed when you don't come through. That was the first time you'd ever really let me down, and I should have known it was too much for you, but I didn't then. I didn't ask because I didn't want to know the answer.

It's late on a spring night outside Chicago and you are a welcome sight. You make your way through my apartment, you make your way towards me; you do both with confidence and a smile. The night before you had stood outside my building crying, although I didn't know this - I thought you were out with your friends like you said you were. You are indescribably beautiful, when you move across the living room and through the hallway to the rest of the place, I wonder if you'll somehow disappear, but you don't. By the time we make it down to the end of the hall and I've shown you everything, I ask if there are any questions but you make it clear that they have all been answered. There's no time to chat anyway. It's getting later and when you move closer to me, I know everything I need to know. In the morning, there are no surprises, and the only thing that blinds me is the sun as I head to work.

False starts

The book is way behind schedule, if you couldn't tell already by my lack of updates. I was hoping to have it finished by Christmas but the manuscript is still only in its beginning phases. Apart from doing things like going to grad school, eating burritos, and napping, I've been struggling with how to organize it, what should go in it and what shouldn't, and how to keep entries with lots of links or references to other blogs coherent in book form.

For the time being, I've got a plan that I'm semi-satisfied with, or at least satisfied enough with to keep going forward with the project. Given that the material is already written (just not organised), I figured I could go ahead with a title and an idea of what I want the cover to look like. And so I present to you, False Starts:

Looking at the covers of the books I own, as well as a few album covers for inspiration, I felt that the simpler design, the better. It might be a little plain compared to some of the blog banners I've had in the past, but if you stare at it long enough, you'll go blind and then it won't matter anymore.

I decided to call it False Starts, instead of one of the many other names I considered, after the Jeremy Keen album of the same name. Although a lot of the stuff I write is humorous (or at least I hope it is), I've written more than my share of serious entries too and I wanted the title to reflect that somewhat. People do judge books by their covers, after all, and even though the subtitle sets the tone for what's inside, I wanted the title to at least show that I've taken some of the last two years of my life seriously.

I did a few Google searches and found that there were enough bands/books/webpages out there named "False Starts" that I wouldn't be faced with a lawsuit for stealing a title. Also, both Jeremy Keen and I are pretty obscure, so it's not like there will be hoards of people confused by a book and an unrelated music album of the same name. Speaking of lawsuits, this cover is only a concept cover, as the robot image I used may be copyrighted. I wouldn't want some starving artist to discover that his prized doodle now graces a book about robots and youthful toomfolery. Then an army of lawyers will come to my house to take all my money, my books, and my cat - it will be very embarrassing to me when they find out that I'm not really the reclusive millionare that I claim to be in the book, and they will also find out that when I'm home, I pretend I'm a robot. So when this thing goes to press, I may have to commission some custom robot art, but for the time being that's still a ways off.

Taking the good and the less good

You know what I love? Child labor - seriously. Before you knock it, think of how cheap things are because of it. Back when I was a kid, we bought our first computer. Made in the USA, it cost, like, $4,000, and the only programs it had were a word processor, tetris, and a poker game. On the plus side it was made of gray steel - making it essentially indestructible - which was the preferred style before we went to black plastic components later in the decade. Over the years we upgraded to newer models, but the old one stuck around long after the 5" floppy disk drive stopped working. When it finally crashed one too many times, I replaced it for, like, a nickel, and the fine print on the box told me that my new computer had been assembled in Malaysia, Korea, and China. Life may be rough there for kids, but their little hands are perfect for electronics.

You know what I DO NOT love? Adults who list Catcher in the Rye as their favourite book. It's heavy-handed, disaffected tone read like the best thing you ever saw when you were fourteen, but come now, you're not misunderstood. Try something good now that you're all grown up.

You lost me at shut up and bite down

Ever since August I've been trying to be comfortable being single, and I've been focusing on doing things I enjoy, but I'd like to take a moment to solicit some audience participation. You see, I have been asking some people who are in long term successful relationships about how or when they knew that the person they are with was right for them. I've gotten some sweet stories and some surprising ones as well. I'm not seeing anyone right now, so I talked to an ex-girlfriend and asked "When did you know that you wanted to be with me?" She answered very kindly, "As soon as we met," but then added:

"I also remember when I realised we wouldn't stay together."
"Really, was it week after graduation?"
"What happened after graduation?"
"Nothing...continue..."

So she told me and it wasn't a surprise - I knew it around the same time, too. Since she reads this sometimes, I'm not going into details, but it struck me as more interesting to talk about the breaking point instead of the starting point.

So, I ask you, Mr. or Ms. Reader: When did you know that someone you dated wasn't the one for you?

Here are a few of mine:

-When I said "I love you," and she said, "That's nice of you."
-She wouldn't give me her address.
-She carried a handgun in her purse and joked a little too frequently about using it. On me.
-She asked if I had any music that was "good."
-Her husband answered the phone.

Oh brother

Rachel decided that my place lacked holiday cheer, so she bought me a Charlie Brown Christmas tree because "it suits you perfectly."

I can't really tell if that's a compliment or an insult.

Also, I just noticed the glowing cat eyes on the upper right side of the picture...apparently there's still some lingering vestiges of Halloween around here.