Got it on the 19th of October.

- Have been applying to a lot of places.  Am steadily learning how to write resumes and cover letters.
- Am going home this Halloween to be there all of November.

Here is a whole stream of random updates for October:

- October 2-3: Friday to Sunday. Drove golf carts around all of Friday and got free shirts.  Oliver came to visit.  Went to Oscar Wilde for A Wilde Universe: A Quest for Uranus. Luis and was really touchy.  Luis had fallen asleep beside me after saying "Yes" to Oliver's question of whether I was his domain or not.  Could not keep the name tag though. (Friday) Got high with Alvarez, Kanal, D Reyes, and Heather. He kept trying to get me to sleep with him and Luis wouldn't wake up to help me.  Homecoming weekend: UCB vs. USC.  UCB lost as bad as it did at Oregon the previous week to USC on that week. 
- October 4: Sunday. Went to Victoria and C-Rod's house to finish two papers for her, one on Chapter 14 of Lolita and the other an analysis for Emily Dickinson's "754: My Life Was a Loaded Gun."
- October 5: Monday.  Ma's birthday.  E and N went with her to Norm's.
- October 6: Tuesday.  Bob Haas, former CEO of Levi Strauss (1989-1999) visited.  I hugged him.  I could say for a fact that I hugged a millionaire.  I wrote my first cover letter.
- October 7: Wednesday.  Had my first piano lesson with Heather.  She taught me the chromatic scale and some acronyms (treble: Every Good Boy Does Fine - I think hers had something to do with Fudge, FACE; base: George Bush Destroyed Financial Assets, All Cows Eat Grass), and she assigned Yankee Doodle.  I signed the contract.
- October 8: Thursday.  Missed Sherman Alexie.
- October 9: Friday.  Watched Warm Water Under a Red Bridge, Water Lillies, Strictly Secual, and No Country for Old Men.  Waited 40 minutes for the bus but it did not come (though on my way to the stop I watched one whizz by.)  Ended up not going to work.
- October 10: Saturday.  Finished a paper for Luis' client in SMC about cultural clash, dropped off a cashier's check for $750 at Durant Place.  Went with Luis to Bay Street Mall and ate Zao's, Fuddrucker's, played air hocker and that terrorist FPS.  Then went to Border's or Barnes & Noble.  Then to Best Buy.  Did not buy a netbook.  Did catch the flu off the 57 going to the BART.  The flu hit me the next monday.  Did not go to work all week, experienced the shivers.  I lied on a green futon behind the couch in Sara's house and listened to her house mates pass.
- October 11: Sunday.  Watched A Good Day to Black and Sexy.
- October 12 or 13: Tuesday or Wednesday.  This Girl's Life and Dangerous Beauty.  Dangerous Beauty features the first old man actor I have found attractive.  His name is Simon Dutton.
- October 14: Wednesday. Had my second lesson with Heather, and gave her $75 for the rest of the month.  She taught me scales C and G, fingering practices, and sent me home to learn Muffin Man.  Got a $250 coat from JC Penney's.  I stole it.  Only E knows.  I told everyone else that a nice lady who fell down in Hilltop Mall got it for me for helping her up (but she first took me shopping for her sister and her daughter who was her exact size).  Old woman whose husband died in WWII who is taking care of her sister and has a blue Buick.
- October 16: Thursay. Got myself a new mp3 player, Sansa Clip.  I like it.  It looks nice and its battery life is insane.
- October 15-18: Thursday to Sunday. Visited Benjamin at Rochdale to pick up some cannibus ($45 for an 1/8th).  Then went to Anapurta's so Kevin could get a vaporizer (I think he dropped $250 for it and a grinder - the grinder is cool, it has a magnetic cap).   Went with Luis to eat at Tako Sushi.  Dropped off Luis because he was going to Los Angeles to see Joy the same weekend.  Went to Laughlin, Nevada.   Ma almost showed up because she had a break.  OMGC Festival.  I had to lie to get her not to come.  Feel bad about it.  Won $300 after I spent a bunch on food.  Did not have the best time.  Kevin broke the mouthpiece on his vaporizer a day and a half after buying it.  He lost a lot of money.  The drive was nice.  Listened to my music, didn't talk too much on the drive back.  Drove 6 hours there and 7 hours back.  The trip takes about 9-11 hours.  Bought a 100oz cup from Terrible's gas station.  It made me think of N.  Also finished my third paper for Victoria that weekend, a comparison between Lolita and Poe's short story, "William Wilson."  It was entitled "Night of the Living Double" and featured Freud's "The Uncanny."

it was either yesterday or today that the light drip started. it might just be a false alarm.

http://www.unnecessaryquotes.com/

Oh, man.  I laugh every time I see it.  I wish there weren't any captions, I just want the pictures.  I should upload my favorites because I have a BUTTLOAD of them.

Archiving.  I fulfilled my archiving compulsion and am thinking of even printing all this crap out and binding it so I don't lose it.  I might put two sheets on a page and do it both back and front so I could save tons of paper, maybe I'll only have to print out a hundred pages at most.  Maybe I could get it down to fifty or something if I make the font small and obnoxious. 

Personal Projects.  I also tried to start video blogging after seeing some really awesome girl do a lecture on wish fulfillment in Twilight readers, in a series called "You Are Bella."  I haven't read the books but I watched the first movie, and it was the guiltiest pleasure ever.  I am trying to get all the men to watch it.  Hahaha.  Yeah, anyway, so I tried to do this video blogging thing but I don't like the way my eyes and mouth move when I talk.  I don't know how other people stand it.

Academia, more internship stuff. I also looked into Phoenix University and they called me like five times a day.  I just found it shady when I visited their site and it said that I should speak to a representative.  I was going to speak to a Kenny who lives in Oakland about getting a business/marketing degree or something in criminal justice, but yeah. No thanks.  I might fulfill my needs to archiving and watching horrible things by becoming an intern at a police station.  Las Vegas Municipal, if I could choose any place.  Maybe I'll be able to get one in the Midwest.  I'm going to save up tons of money and go there and live pretty well.

July 21st, light drip, hurting cramps!

-
Updates, a.k.a. Reminders for Myself When I Read Back on This Journal.

- Personal projects. My third day of writing Folly of Fancy and I'm 11,000 words in.  I had put Boondoggle Porn to rest and queued the second draft of Love After.  I'm feeling all right.  Finished Jude the Obscure the day before yesterday and had signed up fro a NetFlix account a few days before that [reference: movielist.rtf].  I saw this electric scooter that I really wanted, but it only goes 17 mph for 18 to 20 miles before the electric motor thing needs to be recharged.  I don't know if I should blow $800 on it or just save up for $1,500 and buy a junker that can east least go 60 mph for another 800 miles.  Police car auction, E said.  E also recommended that I pick up some fellowships.  E and I write everyday, and E has been working on a long fiction piece called Real Estate, which has an interesting construction that I haven't seen in any contemporary novels.  We write everyday and call each other on the phone and read our pieces to each other and discuss them.  We have been doing this since the beginning of July.

- Internship. Tess left the internship and I should, too.  Did some blogging for him, looking at SEO, keyword searches that would generate the most results.  Five weeks ago, he yelled at me for being five minutes late and cancelling once, and for these five weeks, he's moved it to different days without even notifying me personally, been late by an hour or so each time, and has made me do bank statements, and also confuses my name with Tess'.  [reference: redraft folder - full of "goodies"!]

- Employment. Still working at Zee Zee about twelve hours a week, and the Call Center about twenty-three hours a week.  I make a decent living and am trying to save up money either for a car or a trip.  Maybe a car first and a trip later, so I could drive my car out to better places and find better jobs.  I don't know how long I'm going to get to keep my Call Center job. [reference: journal[date]_[entry].rtf]  I have a lot of entry stubs I have to upload.

- Employment, 2. Near the end of my editing contract with Sue who has been very good to me.  I feel like going home for a bit, but I don't want to topple my momentum of making money.  I'm wondering if I should go home money and work two jobs there so I could start paying off David for what I owe him.  He had been sort of verbally abusive the past few days, calling me "riffraff" and always asking me when I'm going to make the next "great American novel" (to which I replied "never"), and is always asking me where my mom's checks are.

- Friends/Social Life.  Michelle took a trip to the East Coast and has visited Harvard Law School and its library, Steve LeBlanc at the Massachusetts State House Press Room, and is going to visit New York in a couple of days.  I'm so proud of her.  I think she might go off to the East Coast for more schooling and pursue journalism or law like she ought to.  

- Friends/Social Life, 2.  Litany of Bad Social Choices of Summer 2009.
- I haven't really kept in good contact with everyone else.  I miss Sara but haven't had the time and energy to visit her though I should.
- I don't pick up Mary's phonecalls and I didn't pick up Alissa's, and that might have turned into something, but I always drop the ball. 
- Kevin and I talk every now and then and hang out, too, but he's really busy with his stuff.  He came to the conclusion that there's no reason for him to be un-attracted to me, but I feel unattractive and don't answer his phonecalls or Facebook messages enough. 
- N’s girlfriend, K, keeps texting me asking how I am with a smiley face, but I never respond, hahaha.
- Jake announced his divorce, and I only sent two replies to his e-mails, and he's probably waiting on that third.
- I've been invited to all these parties, but I don't go to them either.  Synuhe called me a billion times to celebrate David's birthday but I didn't answer nor did I ever return his call. 
- Haley has told me to say the word and she would visit me, but I haven't responded back with an affirmative for over two months.  I don't know what she thinks of me now. 
- Ruby, I haven't really been very proactive with telling her what weekend we should hang out before she moves back to St. Louis.
- Allison messaged me to take advantage of her free flight tickets so I can come down to Los Angeles to see her, but I haven't, and I haven't even mailed her anything yet.
- I rarely respond to Wisconsin's messages though I read them and enjoy them.
- Overall, in the house, I keep to myself, and when I don't keep to myself, I seem rude and confrontational because I am not conversationally polite. 
- I don't go online to roleplay nor do I chat anymore, and I always leave Jack hanging. 
- Luis and I haven't kept in very good contact.  He's been busy in L.A. and every time he has tried to keep in contact,  it has taken me days to respond.  I have been stalking him on Facebook much less, but it takes a lot of effort.

          Why am I like this anyway?  What makes it so hard for me to keep up contact with these people?  There's nothing wrong with them.  They're smart and sensitive and funny.  Why does it seem like I never possess the energy to be with them?  Why do I prefer staying at home and eating, writing, talking to E, and working over hanging out?

** I am going to make an effort to go to Hannah's house to celebrate her marriage, and buy some 151. 

I'm not unhappy though.  I just feel like my life is on the verge of something, and that I have to break away from everything.  I've been getting fat.  I think this is why I have been trying to set up goals for myself. 

- Miscellaneous.  I have been alternating between House of Curries and Sufficient Grounds.  This little small corner of Berkeley is my life.  I know I should try and do other things and travel before I become mired in this comfort zone.  I have visited Brenda on Regent and Russell to take pictures for her, and on the corner, I was stopped by a homeless man who wanted a drink of my drink.  I gave him a whole loaf of foccaccia bread.  Those Black Israelites haven't been around for three Saturdays already, since the Reggae festival.

- Conclusion. I don't know what I'll do with my life.

Oh, man.  This journal is great!!

7 Civil war stories you didn't learn in high school
http://blogs.static.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/26262.html

Why 10-10?
http://blogs.static.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/30391.html

Expiration date on waterbottles? (lolol, i typed in "waterballs")
http://blogs.static.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/26866.html

6 movies with far more depressing alternate endings
http://blogs.static.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/25914.html

31 unbelievable high school mascots
http://blogs.static.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/30849.html

On Saturday evening, I watched "He's Just Not That Into You," and cried during it.  I don't know why I was so receptive to it.  It made me give up on something that was a thorn in my paw for a long time.  I'm still not completely over it, but I will be.  The movie was reliable, and I liked it.

August 10, 2009: Monday, 02:00am to 04:30am

e-mail 1:

Hey, Moon!  It's 3am and I'm thinking about morality.  Alan and I got in a pretty hardcore argument in some girl's house and she kicked us both out.  I went to my neighbor's 19th birthday party beforehand and it sucked, but her boyfriend kept pestering me.  I guess it's okay.  Sometimes I have to be forced to socialize with others.  It's healthy to jog my social muscle, since it's my strongest one and it gets weaker and loses stamina the longer I incubate myself in comfortable social situations.  My cycle is off and I have been sleeping at 6am for no reason.  It really does not feel good.

I rolled out of bed for work because I had to open up shop by 10:00am.  I almost didn't wake up.  I popped open my eyes at 9:45am and power-walked to work.  I don't know how I woke up since I don't have an alarm for 9:00am. At work, I talked with Jennifer Brooks, my coworker, about human vision, desire, what actually fulfills them, how people go about understanding things.

I told my age-old lie about leaving the house when I was sixteen, not because I fell in Love with a boy or wanted to live in debauchery, but as a peaceful recognition that there are certain rules that my parents have that I respect but cannot abide by, so as not to disrespect them with hypocrisy or by not following the rules, I left.  I told her that I cannot accept religious morality, because it forces people to do and believe things that might not have a rational basis, for instance, some people don't steal from others because they are afraid of going to hell, which is not a rational reason for not stealing.  Human decency can be achieved through a set of ethics that have a rational basis.  Mine is, "Don't do anything to others that you wouldn't be able to accept if they did these things to you." (as opposed to, "Do unto others that you would have them do unto you," which can set up the stakes for reciprocation of good deeds, which I find ludicrous.  No one should be obligated to do any good deed for others) Worded differently, "Take responsibility for everything you say and do."  In my world, it is okay to steal and be stolen from, but it is not okay to kill and be killed.  A universal standard of human decency encompasses general rules of self-preservation and respecting other people's space, acknowledging the subjective world (people's thoughts, opinions, and desires), and doing one's best to improve oneself.

The actual feature of our conversation was decision-making and desire, which sprung up from her question whether I thought people are inherently good or evil as many religions purport.  I facetiously replied that we must be evil, as God can see from beginning to end what we are and will be, and has made us, and has predestined that we would "screw up," be kicked out of paradise, and be in-debted to a son that he sent to commit suicide for our sins (wtf), and forever remember that not only are we undeserving of love (as who can really be selfless and meek enough to accept they were born just to die for someone else?), but that we are just as evil as we were made out to be.

But then I said, no, no.

I start off by telling her that I believe that we are neither good nor evil, as "good" and "evil" do not exist.  There are three parts of our mind that work when we make decisions and desire things:
a. the functional/practical mind (e.g.: work to survive);
b. the logical/rational mind (e.g.: work provides money, which can purchase what one needs to survive); and
c. the part of the mind that many people call the "soul," an unique, untapped, limitless form of potential that, in my opinion, can envision things from beginning to end, has the power to actualize things, and is the hidden basis behind all our desires and decision-making processes (e.g.: work as an activity that taps into a part of you that you must fulfill for whatever reason).

I tell her that this "soul" is hampered by anxieties and social pressures, by the daily routines of life.  It is the part we tap into when we dream, and because it is such an immense form of potential, we often wake up not remembering our dreams and often we don't understand what are dreams mean.  People sometimes tap into this part of our brains when they take drugs or meditate, and unlock some form of potential--but it is human nature to unlock some potential and horde it and not discover whether one can unlock more (which is why a lot of people are either good at Math or English; there are some people who can do both because they have unlocked more from this third part of the brain).  The closest manifestation of this "soul" is Art.

I also feel that all social structures, rules, and establishments are manifestations of our functional/practical, logical/rational, and "soul" minds, and therefore, are forms of Art.  Some of these arts are weak (e.g.: I feel religion is a weak art, as often it purports several "unexplorable" truths and often has irrational bases for morality).  There are some that are strong (e.g.: many philosophies that explore the nature of humans and provide no answers but rather, frameworks for thinking about humans and the self).  I told her that, because I believe that all social structures are forms of art, I cannot rationally believe in "good" and "evil."

I can only believe that people fall short of an objective truth, reality, or self-knowledge, which can be detrimental (but not necessarily morally evil--they may be doing an injustice to themselves, but I do not think this is a sin).  I can only believe that when people understand things, their understanding leads to beneficial things (that aren't necessarily moral goods).  A lack of understanding can be a form of "evil," but in my understanding, it isn't as much of an evil as it is a failure, or an unmet responsibility.

She was interested about my idea of the "third" part of our brain.  She asked me if I thought people could do anything they wanted to if they could really understand that third part of their brain.  I said yes, but it doesn't then make them perfectly functioning social creatures, as the harmony of the universe depends on whether all persons can put out this effort toward understanding themselves and unlocking their own potential.  What religion does, which is why it is so appealing, is that it allows someone to blame someone else or put their responsibility in the hands of someone else.  They don't have to think that their failures are ones that can be remedied, nor can they accept some of the arbitrary laws of nature.  They want to feel like their failures are part of a grand design--and who knows, they might be, but I disagree.

She asked me that, since I don't believe in heaven or hell, what goal or aim should people aspire to?  I told her that if we could unlock that third part of our brain, and know ourselves even a hundredth more than when we started at birth, we are closer and closer to a real goal, which is to have a strong self-concept and be beneficial not only to oneself, but others, through this concrete understanding.  Understanding makes everything possible, permits arbitrariness in the world, forgives failure, but does not handicap development, progress, or productivity, and fuels more compassion.  If people stopped capping themselves with religions that made them designed to fail and helpless to achieve anything, they might have more chances to know themselves better and be able to help themselves while ALSO accepting the arbitrariness of the universe (as wondering why people suffer can generate a lot of mistrust for the universe at large).  People must develop a sense of humor and irony toward things, have compassion, and be willing to grow.

Then, if they know themselves well enough, they might be able to start knowing more about the world around them, which is the ultimate goal--to be one with the universe in perfect understanding, and this is a goal that needs no moral basis.  Harmony feels good.  Understanding things makes it easier to help yourself and others.  In a world of nearly perfect understanding, people wouldn't hurt each other as much or hurt themselves so much.  Where in those benefits does one need to ascribe to a "rule" of goodness?  A rational and decent human being will want what helps them survive comfortably.

We also talked about relationships.  I told her that the reason why relationships fail is not because of the other person, but a failure of understanding within the self.  If both parties understood themselves well enough, communicating and loving each other would be much easier.  But these kind of things can't be helped.  The brain of human beings is puny, like an outmoded laptop.  We can only process and learn so much.

We also talked about confidence. She asked me what confidence was, and I told her it was a backwards thing.  There are things we do well that we don't know we do well until we observe others or are told we do a thing well, and then we have feelings of confidence.  One cannot truly be confident in a thing they know nothing about.  She totally lol'd about that.  I feel that human beings need three R's.  Repetition, reinforcement, and reassurance, and confidence is just one of those silly rhetorics that help people put themselves into perspective.

We talked about a lot of things that I find ironic or counterintuitive within religion, and I also explained more about my philosophies on decision-making and Love.  Her understanding was basic and all her "real life" analogies were just tangents or not even related to my explanations, but she admitted to never having thought of the things I was telling her.  She was laboring to understand and for some reason kept relating bitter anecdotes about her work life that barely had anything to do with what we were saying, even though her questions were always on target.  It blew her away to think of social constructions as art, but that's what they are: an ambitious vision that encompasses human nature and imaginative truths manifested in the external world.

After work, I came home and took a shower.  I couldn't sleep so I took the bus to 99 Ranch and purchased some food, and ate pho.  I came home and partied it up with my house mates, and we walked this pretty half-Jewish, half-Japanese girl home who was in my BFR class.  She told me that she wished I had been in the class again and that she talks with other people from BFR who thought it was a shame that I wasn't an editor, which was a total ego booster for me.  But she's an awkward, frowning type who has a lot of ambition but is too picky and indecisive and is too honest.  She can't hide her displeasure, and she likes attention, and she didn't like that she couldn't keep up with the philosophical discussion that Alan and I had (which I wrote up in a document and sent to him so he could correct his rebuttals.  I'll show it to you when he's finished with it).  She kicked us out of her house.  Lolol.  I felt bad.  I want to be admired but I probably lost her admiration because of it.  She made us tomatoe soup though, which tasted good but sort of like pasta sauce and sour whatever and not enough salt ("It's because I used half canned tomatoes and half fresh tomatoes.  Sorry, guys.").  I asked her earlier at the party what her parents were like, and she said they were "weird."  She says her mother is Japanese, which already makes her sort of cold, and her father, she liked him because he taught high school French, but when she went to college, she didn't like him anymore for some reason.  My house mates were really drunk and some awkward tension between the birthday girl (Rita) and her boyfriend (Jake) happened throughout the whole night.  Several people toppled over and broke things.  Vomit is everywhere.  The music was so thumping loud that someone across the street at Hotel Durant opened his window and told us to shut up.

I wrote too much.  Summary of some personalities there:

Alisa Gordon: the half-Japanese/half-Jewish girl.  "Like...  I thought I was going to go into Law, but I have too much personality for it, you know?" (imagine this is said in the most self-aware way possible, where she means it to be funny, sad, and true)

Kevin Klein and Tori Tjhdgfjkdhfgldkfjg:  A young couple that Mary Pham introduced to me that night her and I went out for beer.  They are both cognitive science majors, are innocent and quirky.  They are like two sexless aliens who walk around together and talk about making their own shirts or about movies. But at this party, they were one big erotic pretzel and kept teasing each other's lips.  I don't know when they left, but I know they left early. >_>!

Drew: Computer Science (EECS) major who is good at dancing and singing, looks like a hipster/singer, is Nicole Kidman's boyfriend (wtf), visiting from New Mexico.  Drew seems sort of asexual, like Caroline.  They're the same height.  When he sings, he likes to sing harmony rather than melody.

Jacob Newman: Works with me at the Cal Calling Center, a caller fledgling.  Jabir doesn't like him and neither do a lot of other people.  He's a Jewish kid with braces and he's always blaming others for his bad calling skills, and can't take good advice without fighting.  Really likes competing and making money, and fidgets during calling hours.  He takes refusals over the phone personally and it gives him headaches.  At the party, he got wicked drunk, and when he climbed back in through the window, he fell against the booze table, and spilled and broke shit.  He sat for a long time with his head in his hands while everyone else cleaned up.  I asked him if he was okay or needed water, and he said he was fine, but that he was really embarrassed.

Rachel: Japanese girl from Orange County, double majoring in English and Rhetoric.  She had a gaudy necklace on that I complimented because it drew my attention.  Three large, bronze maple leaves draped across her collar bone, and she wore a skirt that looked like it was made out of one of my mom's old black flower-printed dresses.  She said that her high school was typical, reality TV show OC status.  Everyone was rich, white, stuck up, and snobby.  I asked her if she developed neuroses from being around them, and she said she developed a lot of them, since she didn't fit in.  "That's why I'm in the bay area," she tittered with bitter nervousness.  When the song "Aladdin" played on Jake's iPod, she got into it and danced and sung, and did that thing with her arm that American Idol people do.

Ruby: A girl attached to the hip with Rachel.  They look the same because they both have big chests, wide arms, pretty faces, but are sort of diva-ish and nice.

Katie:  A young English/Comparative Literature double major. "I wanted to be in journalism, but not like, truth journalism, but new age journalism." Me: "Like gonzo?" Her: "Yeah, like that.  I didn't know what I wanted to do for the longest time, but yeah.  I don't know."  (cue her talking to Alisa for hella time.  Alisa looks disconcerted and bored.)

A host of hispter kids, one wearing a cardigan sweater.

Alan: You know Alan. :<

Jeremy Tauzer:  R.A. of Durant Place.  Always says awkward things that are deprecating but meant to be funny but aren't funny.  Awkward and a persistent pryer who doesn't mean to pry.  "So, like...  all those neuroses from high school really did a lot of work for you.  You probably can write a very good English paper now, right?"

Jake Holland: The host of the party, and boyfriend of Rita Chudnovsky.  English major.  Ever since he came back from Europe, there have been problems.  He got wicked drunk and knocked on my door and asked me repeatedly, "What are you doing?  Did you get my invite?  I only invited you and Alan because you're all I know here.  I'm sociable, but yeah, I don't know everyone.  What are you doing?  Did you get my invite?  Come on and dance.  Here, I'll make you a drink."  I tell him I just want some Dr. Pepper.  He fills a tea cup filled nearly to the brim with Bacardi 151, and then pours a couple drops of Dr. Pepper on top.  He kept pulling me from the fire escape to dance to Daft Punk (yuck).  He is a touchy feely drunk and is always asking people what they are doing and if they are dancing.  He and Rita are opposite magnets at this party, never in the same room at once.  He has all of Shakespeare's plays as individual hardcover pocket books.  On his pillow was William Carlos Williams' "Imagination," and his speakers are huge.  He has a big, carrot-colored afro and is skinny as a stick.

Rita Chudnovsky: 19 year old celebrant, and girlfriend of the host.  She is lovable and receives packages in the mail nearly every single day from people all over the world.  These packets include books, letters, cute things they made, pictures of England, etc., etc. At the party, she is stumbling around as drunk as Jake, but they never talk to each other.  She is sweet, constantly thanks people for coming to her party, hugs people, is strongly but randomly opinionated (has a quirky sense of humor that is sophisticated even when she is unrelentless and even sort of demanding and compulsive), and has a nice, tiny, fairy-like voice even though she has a wide chest, is tall, and has big arms.  For a good part of the night, she is in a vacant room, talking with another guy who is Lena Brooks' boyfriend (Lena and I worked in BPR together, she liked your work).  At one point, they close the door and talk more.

Jake sits up against a wall outside of his room with his feet spread out, and he lulls his head back and forth, and he is sitting with four other hipsters.  I open the door to check up on him and all the hipsters are crowded around in front of the bathroom.  I hear glass break.  He is throwing up in the toilet and all over the place.  Rita comes out of the room to ask where he is.  We point.  She asks what's wrong.  "He's sick," Sean says (a minor hipster).  "Oh..." she says with vacuous concern, and leads Lena Brooks' boyfriend by the hand back to Jake's room to dance to some Simian Mobile Disco.

Sincerely awesome,
- Me.

- - - - - -
e-mail 2:

I was so receptive yesterday.  There's even more at Zee Zee Copy besides our conversation - this artist Sabine never pays for the things she charges to her account (and does this highlighter art of couples in the same pose in every picture).  Farooq came in, and in the middle of her making prints for a nice Indian lady who likes her art, Farooq bothers her about the money she owes, in front of her client.  He bothers her and bothers her, and all the money she made on this hotass Monday afternoon goes straight to what she owes on the account.  She literally takes out a few pathetic wads of ones and fives ("I don't have a license, so I can't charge more than five dollars.  Even then, I say it's a donation."), and counts them one by one until she has $50.00 on the counter, which is a small dent in the $500.00 she owes. 

Charlie left me a job that required a lot of cutting and trimming.  A girl spent $90.00 printing photos that she could have gotten done at Wal-Mart for $40.00, without the risk of us cutting her pictures crooked.  She is from Germany, which explained a lot.  She was nice, and all her pictures were of people who were less attractive than her, but the way she took pictures of them really made it look like she cherished them and understood them.  All the pictures of her were sort of homely compared to her stature in real life.

A black dude with short dreads kept coming in and out of the store.  He'd take our paper clips, sit at the computer aimlessly typing away since he doesn't know the password, or ask us with intensity and slowness if we have seen a cat--or "kitten."  He walked around in front of the store, from Yogurt Park to the other end of the tunnel, meowing all day, and he'd come in and take more paper clips from us.

In the morning, when I opened, a father came in from Norway with all his eight children behind him line up like baby ducks.  They all had bright blonde hair.  He asked to use a computer, and rented two so his children could watch morning cartoons while he looked at hotels.  He tried to get one in San Francisco the night before, but they were all booked, so he stayed in Berkeley.  The children were quiet, and stood in height order so they could all see the computer screen.  The oldest typed for his father and did searches for him.

It was so hot and I hadn't taken a shower, and when Farooq came in and yelled at Sabine and kept calling me over to his computer to show me Aishwarya or whatever her name is, I just clocked out early and left.  I was so tired.  I couldn't believe that I even went to 99 Ranch running on two hours of sleep.  I bought a bag with a Sanrio bear on it for $24.00, which was a stupid move, since I went to the supermarket to SAVE money.  I ended up spending $80.00 on God knows what.  As I waited for the bus to take me home, a black man in his Mercedes, wearing a caddy hat, kept driving by in both directions, circling the block, and he kept waving at me.  He made five turns before I stopped looking at him.  A Chinese kid I've seen on the bus ride home from 99 Ranch was the only one with me on the return trip home.  My mp3 player crapped out on me.

I have to stop writing.  I don't even know where all of this energy is coming from.

I know it's too much for you.

- - - - - -

E-mail to Alan: Hey, thanks again for talking with me about your philosophies.  It's hard for me to wrap my head around them, because I haven't yet found a personal and concrete definition of things like morality and rationality.  I typed up a small document about your philosophies that I want you to look at when you have time, so you could tell me if I understand your explanations. I would do you an injustice by letting your explanations spindle away into oblivion, though I know it is added work for you to have to explain these things to me.  I am grateful that you took the time to discuss all of this with me, and what I'd like is to make sure I AT LEAST understand the rudimentary ideas of your philosophies.

I also have questions which may or may not be relevant in the document, but they are concerns nonetheless.  The document does not provide a challenge for any of your explanations, because I feel that your explanations are close to many things I agree with, and in my life time I'd like to adopt a model of decency structured around your model of morality. I have said before that I don't believe in morality, but I meant in the way that the Roman Catholic Church and many other religions define morality, i.e.: adhering to the rules of a "possible" God, rules that are often arbitrary or irrational.  But morality, as you describe it, relieves me.  I have suffered thinking about right, wrong, good, and evil, because it is hard to find a framework where I could see right, wrong, good, and evil in an objective way.  Your model of morality really helps frame them in a possible scheme of maximum happiness.

My wording for your explanations might not be so good, so if you have time, I'd like it if you could re-word whatever you find dissatisfying, and also add to sections that seem like they're lacking in "meat" or understanding.  I am still trying to understand your true definition of rationality, human nature, and "real" world observations, but I think you can clarify them for me.

Oh!  One thing we have to talk about what time is the classic "pleasurable vs. good" stuff.  I think about it from time to time and I want to know your thoughts on it one of these days.  They're really winding down fast.  I wish I could have discussed more with you since I aim to leave before Spring 2010.  I'm always in my damn room or working.

- [my name].

- - - - - -

August 10, 2009: Monday
alan's philosophy/structure of morality: rationality, human nature, the "real" world, and desire

desire.
a. the fact that people desire things is objective.
b. the things people desire are subjective.
c. some desires can suppress, or go in direct opposition of other people's desires, and one must weigh whether the suppressing desire has the chance of maximizing the utility of everyone more than other party's (suppressed) desires.

morality.
a. morality, or universal rule-making that maximizes the happiness of everyone, is governed by rationality, human nature, the "real" world, and desire.  whatever goes against a universal rule of maximum utility is "wrong" and anything in favor of this rule is "right." 
b. maximum utility is a rational weighing of decisions and consequences that can affect all participating parties in a "good" or "positive" way.

rationality. (am not too clear about this.)
a. rationality is a combination of observations about human nature, in the "real world," and what human beings desire. 
b. making a rational rule takes into account objective realities, e.g.: a rule that permits everyone to kill everyone else if they want cannot be practical since it is possible that a person who desires to kill someone else might not get the chance to, as they could get killed before fulfilling their desire to kill--also, there is an assumption (or implication) that a person who wants to kill does not want to be killed (as governed by human nature and the "real" world, i.e.: instincts of self-preservation, and the undeniable fact that the person who might be killed wants other things).

human nature. (am not too clear about this.)
a. human nature is a class of surviving assumptions and observations about human beings' way of thinking and their various behaviors.
    1. assumption: people naturally want to get paid the amount of effort they put forth in work.
        a. objective reality: sometimes people have the same jobs and may offer the same skill set and have the same work ethic, but still get paid differently, reference: the supposed "glass ceiling" imposed on women and other minorities in the work world.  There is a hidden part of society that values the productivity of men over women--is this human nature as well, or just a cultural outcropping?  Does it have a rational basis?
b. question: is a human behavior like self-preservation always rational?  are there times where self-preservation is not rational?  if, hypothetically, we mapped out all of the behaviors of human nature, could we safely say that all of them have an origin of rationality? what parts of human nature, if any, do we ignore when we make rules that must maximize the happiness of all participating parties?

"real" world observations. (am not too clear about this.)
a. "real" world observations study human behavior interacting with rules, society, and conflicting desire. 
b. question: which "real" world observations or experiences do we reference when we want to make a rule that maximizes the happiness of all participating parties?

I am surprised at myself.  I thought Facebook and Livejournal was enough, but I just checked on Twitter, signed up on Six Sentences.ning, made a blogspot, and created my own social networking site that I will never use.

I did come up with a cool phrase thought.  IRONY IS LIFE'S SMILE.  I think that's pretty good.

http://the-awning.blogspot.com/

Time to write for a little bit before I have to get ready for work.

Second heavy day of the period.  Officially started yesterday - or the day before yesterday, the 22nd of July.  I have tons of journal entries to post up.  For some reason, I've been too lazy to log in here.

profile i wrote:
I work 2.5 jobs, and these Black Israel kids who preach on Telegraph and Durant every Saturday said they are going to rape me soon because my ex boyfriend maced two of them in the face last semester.  I have already graduated, but do not have a diploma because I cannot afford it.  I am positive I have several obsessive compulsive disorders, and my fervor for projecting "magical" qualities (hyper sensibility, philosophy, ambition, intelligence, deep inner desires) and painful, hidden pasts onto people is only one of them.  You might imagine that I love Life and people very much (in a general, abstract sense - I have no courage to love any one person more than a book), and I do, and they are the only things that I can say I love for a certainty. 

- - - -

I should have also added that I can't sleep at night.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gordon_Lish   

* "The secret of good writing is telling the truth." -- Dick Cavett television interview, Aug. 25, 1991
* "It’s not what happens to people on the page; it’s about what happens to a reader in his heart and mind."
* "I see the notion of talent as quite irrelevant. I see instead perseverance, application, industry, assiduity, will, will, will, desire, desire, desire."
* "Never be sincere — sincerity is the death of writing"

Period started on Sunday, June 21, 2009.  It is heavy and my cramps are insane.

her beauty shines with a burger in her mouth.
http://www.esquire.com/the-side/video/megan-fox-video?bcpid=21913413

i write the songs - barry manilow
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-fev20voMc

hangang - wency cornejo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzz2Y8pVNuA

a train of angels - joe satriani
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ani9dYlGRY

everybody hurts - the corrs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkp-U36c_wo

home - bone thugs n' harmony and phil collins
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3s9pYcTPrqM

tamacun - rodrigo y gabriela
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G8dPso79Z9I

dear mama - 2pac
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNcloTmvTeA&feature=related

only when i sleep - the corrs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CC_8g_QRTLY

Soon We'll Be Found - Sia
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNqb17aR3Nc&feature=related

-

good omens played a good one on me.  he has a girlfriend that he left in the philippines.  good thing that was short lived, though i was ambivalent most of the time, and probably came off as a complete snob.  it makes me wonder about myself a lot.

-

e said i was always right and he wished he could share the 3am night time ride.  i think he means in reference to me saying that it's still possible to enjoy someone else driving even when you've already learned to and have your own car. after a host of very pointless arguments, he started driving.  then, we got into another confrontation about him wearing his glasses at night.  after more pointless arguments, he made sure to call an optometrist.  i swear, i never say nonsensical things unless i'm high or just yanking on people's chains, but i would never pointlessly urge people to do things unless i felt that it would drastically improve their quality of living.

Luis sent me something he edited.  I like this!

http://www.glendalenewspress.com/articles/2009/06/20/columns/gnp-smallwonders20.txt
-

SMALL WONDERS:
Walking away a satisfied father

By PATRICK CANEDAY

I was 2 when he left. When I became a father and my daughter turned 2, I looked at her and tried to imagine how it would feel to walk away from her.

Like so many children of divorced parents, the childhood memories I have of my father are a patchwork of contractually obligated visits — one weekend per month, two weeks in the summer, a phone call on holidays or birthdays — vignettes in which I was to suck the marrow of the father-son relationship as quickly as possible before returning to the protective wings of my mother hen.

I loved visiting my father, though he was half-stranger, half-parent. He and his new wife moved around, and the farther they went, the less frequent were our visits. But my favorite place to see him was Catalina Island. I’d take the sea plane over, and the pilot would let me sit in the cockpit and watch the ocean rise to meet us as we descended into Avalon.

One day, walking up the short hill to his house, he stopped, looked over a fence and whistled down into the darkness of a eucalyptus-shaded valley. He whistled a short call, and from nowhere came the response. An unseen myna bird sang back, note for note, mysterious and pure. He smiled and we walked on.

I tried to get that myna bird to whistle back to me every time I walked up that hill. I don’t recall ever hearing its song back.

As the youngest among my siblings, I was the lucky one. With no real memorable experience of my father before the divorce, I didn’t know I was missing anything. You can’t crave candy if you don’t know what it tastes like. I thought it was odd when the fathers of other kids showed up to Cub Scout events, tee ball and football games. I thought every boy learned how to play catch with his mom.

When my father discovered that I liked camping, fishing and the outdoors like him, he did his best to teach me all he knew of these things in our brief visits. It’s these moments in our shared passion that are most dear to me. How to pitch a tent, start a campfire, tie a fishing knot or dress a freshly caught trout. He taught me the peace of nature, and every lake became our Walden.

Summer visits to his house were both comforting and uncomfortable. I was so glad to see my father, yet the familiarity he had with his new family made me feel like an outsider. I loved them, but I couldn’t wait to hit the road and have my father to myself.

In the silence of our long drives through the California backcountry I’d wonder who this man was in the driver’s seat. And what did he know about me? Not my friends or about that kid picking on me, or about the girl I had a silent crush on. He had no idea that I felt like I was pretending to be a teenager, or how I dreaded school because I felt like a misfit, so alone. If I opened my heart to the father, would the stranger answer?

By my late teens the contractual visits expired, and we saw each other far less. There would be long stretches with no contact. But I always knew he was out there somewhere, and I thought of him from time to time.

One day, when I was about 20 years old and going through a rebellious stage — mild by most standards — my mother scolded me, “You sound just like your father when you say that.” I was dumbfounded. I had no idea I was anything like him.

Then I started to see it too, in the way I stood or hooked my finger in my belt. I heard his voice in mine when I laughed or became angry. I had cravings for smoked oysters on a Ritz cracker with a little mayo — his favorite camping appetizer.

It started with a casual phone call for no real reason, just catching up. The occasional letter. As his children grew and demanded less of his time, we would plan to meet up in Flagstaff or Monterey while on the long, solitary road trips we both loved so much. Just the two of us, at last.

As adults, with the labor-intensive part of growing up and parenting behind us, we started our relationship anew. A son needs a father. But maybe a father needs a son just as much. It’s never too late to tend the old wounds, though scars remain.

I could judge him. As a parent myself now, his mistakes are so much clearer to me. I have moments of reflection when a lonely child’s righteous anger wells up within me. These usually come when I’m amazed by my own children and so thankful I was present to witness their great triumph or funny dance; to pick them up when they fall and wipe a tear from their cheek. Moments no father should miss.

When I looked into my 2-year-old’s eyes and tried to imagine walking away from her I shuddered, as if trying to wake from a bad dream, pierced by a guilt of such profound depth. It’s a pain I’m sure never goes away.

Silent ripples through time. That’s what our actions are. And we’ve no idea the myriad ways our actions will affect those closest to us. His absence in my childhood ripples through my life to this day, but not as much as his presence did and still does.

I love him so dearly. He’s not a perfect father. But I’m not a perfect son. We’ve just lost so much time — too many fatherless Father’s Days.

I’m still that kid whistling into the darkness, and the song I yearn to hear back is one of approval and acceptance from a father. But I kept whistling, and from that valley of the shadow, a call finally came back.

good omens (6/20/2009 8:16:57 AM): its nothing fatal, well nothing is intially haha. researching stuff related to anything medical in nature pertaining to any of my numerous conditions all of which i think are imaginary besides occasional back pain  just makes me paranoid so i rather seek medical attention.
good omens (6/20/2009 8:18:08 AM): is medical attention smiliar to dental care ? because i just need my teeth checked -he whispers-
good omens (6/20/2009 8:23:59 AM): monolouge. i do this often especially when im hung up on an idea and its usually very therapeutic for me to do this, its convnient if the idea has the ability to talk back. although, -using his hands to bridge the  gap between them as he waves at the imaginary distance between them- between you and i, well im hung over at so many levels..
good omens (6/20/2009 8:33:31 AM): -snaps his fingers he begins to shed skin, not in a manner that a snake would but more like someone wearing, a thing sheet of cement that begins to crumble around him if that were all possible that it didnt crumble as he moved before hand- ahem -clearing his throat- it takes effort for me to talk in the manner even remotely as close to yours and i find myself using dictonary.com while we talk. -begins sweeping the floor- so from now on im not even going to pretend that i can speak at your level, let alone attempt to. i take pride in spelling things right and thats about it. -shakes head as he wonders where his copy of elements of style has gone, bought it on impulse as a professor suggested that it would help him, that was 7 years ago and he has yet to flip a page

- - - -

Tan left today.  Long day at Zee Zee.  Played Bossa Nova electronica.  Wendy came.  Redid the communication book and numbers on the copy counter.  Boss never came in.  Tidying up and doing some laundry.  Should send Luis' Veteran mail.

Image 1.
picture: http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v4510/148/42/644761198/n644761198_2368280_5291267.jpg
Me [3:49pm June 9] Lol!! What is that creepy iguana doing on the baby guinea pig area?! this shadyness could only exist in China Town
Luis [10:58pm June 9] He was just chillin' at the best little pet store in Chinatown! This place had signs that read "See me eat a mouse for $2" on the snake and toad cages :3 no cats there tho
Luis [11:42pm June 9] +1,567,854,243,799.49!!!

[8] When he drove Nora home, he went off again, and left her to think about him, friendless in another state, drifting. She wondered if people were born that way. She came to find Brian doing his routine exercises, with his laptop resting on one of the pool chairs. Sweat was dripping down the sides of his face as he skipped rope. He stopped when he saw her coming up the hill.

“Hey,” he said, coiling the jump rope around his arm. “Why are you carrying all this stuff?” He trotted down the stairs and took one of her bags.

“No reason,” she said.

“Were you walking around with these all day?”

“No. Carmichael saw me at Safeway and took me home.”

Brian paused. “Were you going to stay somewhere else?”

She tried to read his expression, whether this disappointed him or relieved him, and ended up not being able to tell. She narrowed her eyes, with a confused sort of smile. “I was thinking about it.”

They walked into the house, into his room. He started unpacking everything, putting all her things neatly back in her drawer. “Maybe you should try waiting for a week or two. It’s almost the beginning of school. Some people might still be settling in.”

Nora watched.

Brian swiped at his brow with a forearm. His sleeveless shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat. He sniffed, folding the last of the clothes, handling even her underwear with a detached professionalism, and nudged the bottom drawer closed. He turned to her. “Want me to make you anything?”

Nora wanted to ask him why the hell he was doing all of this. Nora wanted to ask him what the point was. She wanted to know if he really cared about her, or if he was getting used to a routine of dependency. She wanted to know an It, what it was, if she should start pouring herself into it. But Brian didn’t give her enough signals. Maybe he didn’t even think about any of this. Maybe he was a child and she was his playmate.

[9] Nora’s heart started at how innocent and awkward he looked, and couldn’t leap over the fact that he’d had sex with an experienced, intelligent girl, and was here, standing before her, stumbling over basic emotions and confrontations. That feeling Nora got in her chest when she first realized she knew nothing about him started to swell again. She wanted to have a part of him, too. But maybe he didn’t want her to. Maybe he just wanted someone he could trust, not someone he could love. But why would she want him to love her? He cared about her and treated her well. Why was she so eager for the complication?

She softened. “It’s still new. Just be patient with yourself,” she said, almost tiredly. Her heart was telling her to do so many things.

[10]

[1] "He didn’t know a thing about her, nor the thing that really made her hurt. Because even when Evelyn pulled her… stunts, it wasn’t the Love in his heart that nearly killed all his insides, it was not knowing, it was not knowing a lot of things were happening without him and to him and around him. He couldn’t force himself to read into the situations even though they demanded to be read; he felt it a mockery to everything he stood for, something that spoiled his way of seeing, something that might corrupt him and make him dependent on his own paranoia, and even the refusal to do what he ought—to read what he ought—poisoned him, in a way.

It should be obvious, it should be, otherwise, it doesn’t exist."

[2] "All he knew was that for him, it was always easier to be a crying post to girls the way a scratching post was to cats; it required less imagination, and less nerve."

[3] "Later, they picked up Simon and ate somewhere else, and it was a strange combination, but it happened to become quite a cohesive thing. Brian was even laughing; Simon was actually cracking jokes (moreso making fun of his existentialist phase in high school, his hedonistic view of things in his freshman year of college). Carmichael didn’t ask any aggressive questions; there was no need to, because it seemed like they were all honest to goodness and lonely. They hit on a couple of girls. Them and the girls went to a hookah bar; Brian didn’t care for the rest.

He got home that night, thinking things were repairable, but when he stepped on that first kitchen step, he was afraid all over again—not of her, but of the things she said. They hurt, and he didn’t know if they were true or not, but he made them true, impressionable and naïve as he was. And he knew it could transform him if he experienced it too much, and he didn’t know why she might even bring it up; there might have been something in her nature—he had first seen it in Carmichael, his aggressiveness but also his lack of personal accountability—and it frightened Brian in a vague way.

He didn’t know if he wanted it; he’d often read in books about the titillating, almost overtly sexual response to disillusionment. He was aware that she was providing a perception, but his mind still couldn’t separate any perception from truth; it brought him back to Shakespeare and student plays; how vulnerable student plays were, how susceptible they were to being destroyed by perceptions, where Shakespeare can remain wholly untouchable. Did he like acting for that reason? The mimetic nature of being only a shadow of the writing, untouched? That wasn’t true; even an actor provides a perception the audience could see."

[4] "Carmichael had already been up since five, holed up in his room with the light peeling in fluorescent skins from his two windows (he was the only one in the house who had two), trying to get some of his reading in before he had to head over to Simon’s house. He was simultaneously reading Anna Karenina and The Wasteland, but more so today The Wasteland, and he realized that there were many states of confusion, and the states of confusion he found himself in were ones he were quite proud of, and secretly. It was his way of establishing that perfect charming wall that he usually put between himself and others, that textual space of thoughts that others would never be able to handle, something that generated a titillating kind of mystery and sense of vagueness, something that made his life very, very convenient."

 

[5] "For the first time, Brian fully met Louisa’s eyes, since their first meeting. Something locked on, and hinged, and he understood Louisa without being able to name it. She was cunning, but honest, selfish, but also empathetic, distanced and agreeable, but full of deception and intrigue. She probably did cheat on her boyfriend. Her face, so smooth, with slanted, almond eyes and a strange hook nose, and soft lips—something he could possibly deal with on a long term basis, even when it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

“Well, if you want to be mysterious,” he started, with a grating whisper, “all you have to do is lie.” And it felt to him that the words coming out of his mouth were solicited—would he ever really say something like that on his own? He couldn’t tell. He leaned his head back and let Louisa suckle on his Adam’s apple. After turning out the lights, he lay her down, and got on top of her, and it struck him as strange to feel her knees clasped together. He parted them with a gentle nudge of his hand, and the night slipped away."

[6] Louisa crossed her arms, blowing smoke out of the side of her mouth, squinting her eyes at something distant and unreadable. “God. Europe. Such a hideous place. I’m never going back there, but I keep revisiting it in my mind. I feel sort of resentful of it for some reason, you know?”

“Why,” Nora asked, and she sounded disinterested when she didn’t mean to be—she was thinking.

“I just hated how the whole place knew more than I did. It was so rich and it was pouring stuff at me, pouring it at me—” Louisa raked in the air with wide arm strokes, her smoke swirled “—and I just couldn’t take it all. It was like one huge cock thrust and I was gagging. And I hated how my photography friends were in the way, constantly talking about this and that in their fucking books. I couldn’t even concentrate on the Pietta or the Pope or any of that. I just hated it!”

“So you don’t really hate it,” Nora nearly cut in. “You just hate yourself.”

Louisa paused, noticing a little bit of resentment in Nora’s voice, the coldness of it. But she couldn’t help but feel inspired and grateful. Louisa’s smile bloomed. “It’s a catch twenty two, I think. Because it’s the hate that inspires introspection, but it’s also hate that brings out the malaise.”

[7]

“Why’d you come to live with someone who’d just abandon you anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Nora said with a careless, happy shrug. For some reason, it didn’t hurt to hear Carmichael say it that way. “It wasn’t like that in the beginning. I guess he just got tired of me.”

“Any guy would if you women keep clinging.”

“Yeah. I think I was clinging.”

“It’s natural,” Carmichael said. “Even I have.”

Nora looked at him. He kept driving, but there was a little nerve by his jaw that twitched beneath his skin. His Adam’s apple moved up and down. Nora didn’t say anything.

“What was he like? Any good?”

Nora smiled. “He was funny. He didn’t mind that I was a drama queen and a liar.”

Carmichael smiled, slowing down. He parked in a residential area and lowered the back of his seat, grunting as he reclined.

“We met at a friend’s birthday party all the way back in sixth grade. He remembered it when he saw me in college, can you believe that? He knew my name, and remembered that I stole my friend’s mom’s stockings and other things. And he told me he wanted to be a musician, and took me to his house to play me some music. He was harmless. Not a great listener, but it felt good to be around him.” Nora took another drag. “I don’t know why I stayed with him for so long or why I got so attached.”

“Maybe you like to fall in Love with things,” Carmichael said with his eyes closed.

Nora smiled brightly, watching him. She blew smoke in his direction. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Smart girls with no goals in Life tend to do things like that.”