| February 24th, 2002
0034
"What do you call it when it's like this?" "Like what? You forget I don't pay much attention to the weather on the left coast" "Um...you know, sunny outside but still raining?" "Oh." "Something like the Devils pissing or something?" "Or God is angry?" "Yeah, something like that." "Don't know. Sorry" "Great. Thanks. Fat load of good you are." "I said sorry." "I know...itz OK." "Why you ask anyway?" "Dunno...waxing poetic or something I guess" "Ahhhh. I see. Any reason in particular you're all of a sudden a poet?" "Well see...I met this girl." "Oh really?" "Yeah well..." "Yeah well what?" "Well, you know...I haven't really met her per se, ya know?" "Ahhhhh. You planning to woo some girl you spied across the classroom or something." "You could say that." "And you figured you'd write her a poem." "What you lack in analogical skills, you make up for in your astute observations." "Ha ha very fucking funny." It was strange. I felt so awkward talking to Jamie about this. I'd only
known her a few weeks. I hadn't met her IRL yet...she lived across the
damn country from me. There was just something about her AIMs though...I
found myself staying up later and later every night chatting with her.
We had so much in common, books, music...even our disdain for the very
technology we were even then using to interact with; without which we'd
never have met. Some nights I lay awake for hours even after logging off,
telling her "I have to go sleepy now. work in four hours arrgggghhhh! Why
do you do this to me!"
So we'd both lol at each other and log off. People at work take notice when you're drinking so much coffee you get up to go pee every half hour. That and they wonder if you haven't developed some sort of nervous twitch. I haven't noticed them noticing though...my thoughts still reconstructing the last nights chat session. My thoughts have been drifting often...simple things, like what color her hair might be? We haven't exchanged pictures yet...haven't described ourselves physically...it is SO 90s the way it's all played out so far...and that's what makes me just that more nervous about the whole thing. This is, afterall, just a 'net friendship still. For all I knew, she had a husband and three children, lived in a 2 bedroom apartment in the ghetto slums of fayetville, north carolina, and was trying to eke out a living selling crack to the neighboring crackhouse fiends. That is, if she was even a sheat all. I tried to tell myself that net relationships don't work out. Of course, just as I have myself half way convinced of that, I'll see some new headline online 'Bob and I met online and he moved across country to be with me. That was three years ago and we're both happier than we've ever been.' Um...yeah. The net and random chats are like a pox to all lonely, single people of this world. It is so very easy to think you're making this real connection with that faceless stranger...so very easy to fall into infatuation. Online...meeting people is easy...no-one stutters online. No-one puts their foot in their mouth (or at least, not so often). There is no pressure about physical appearance, fashion statements, pocket book, anything. Online, all that really matters is how fast you can type and how witty you can be within ten seconds of receiving the last IM...at least at first Net relationships have a lifespan in 'net years". Sort of like dog years but shorter...Pretty much keeps pace with technology I suppose. After a few weeks, one of the two finds some other person to chat with, becomes bored with you, finally gets that picture of you and really doesn't like what she sees...whatever. That's why I was trying to play this one off, like I'd met someone IRL, here in San Francisco...flesh and blood, right there to hold, to kiss, to spend hours staring into her eyes, once the ice was broken, of course. So I was, in effect, misleading the girl I was wooing about the wooing. But net relationships never work. Why did I maintain hope? I was only setting myself up for failure. ----------------------------------------------------------- Intense desire to write but I couldn't muster up the energy to write about the topic just started brewing in my head...namely; at what point do you call a good man evil? Is it when he robs a 7-11? Kills his neighbor in self defense, and then another person in desperation to conceal what he thinks is a crime? Boosts an old radio from a still older man who loves nothing but the nightly jazz hour...to pay for his dinner? Maybe it's because I spent so much time making comments in various diaries or communities? possible... Yeah...so instead you got a fictional vignette I whipped out of my ass...and a day to day anecdote (i know i know...shoot me.) Underwater photogrpahy is HARD! It's bad enough taking pictures of animals on land...what with the animals moving. Underwater YOU are moving too, be it by the current or bouyoncy. Serious pain in the ass. (Which is my way of saying last weekend's pix didn't turn out...Least I didn't overexpose the film!) Maybe some of the pix I took today at Maeda Pt...With every dive I learn/improve something. Today it was a bit more about photography and navigation. Oh...and I got my own tanks now too! They're this gorgeous shade of metallic blue. Current mood: creative.
Comments: taliana 2002-03-04 22:12 *hugs* How are you doing? With the news this weekend, I've been thinking about you. Promise me you'll take care of yourself... *hugs*
rainingvodka
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