Month: November 2006

(As you’re painfully aware, I’ve been unable to do this for a long time. I am not going to delve into the details, but let’s just say that I’ve been busy, and I was trying to match up to some arbitrary standard that I just can’t reach in this frame of mind. I apologise to any readers who are expecting thought-provoking, skillfully-worded content—this is not that at all.)

I am most definitely not what you would call religious, though I’d like to believe that I am being watched over by a higher power. Not one to take part in ritualistic-formalities (and trust me, there is a ton of that amongst my people), I just mutter my little thank-yous on occasion, and go about my day. I don’t really pray, or frequent temples, or… you know, do the whole organised-religion thing very well. But lately (alright, yesterday), I had the urge to just lie prostrate on the floor for the longest time… begging… for everything in my sorry life to fix itself.

Yes, I know what you’re mumbling: “Great way to fix things, jackass.”

Shut up.

I don’t want to have the kinds of conversations I am having recently. I don’t want to have the sorts of thoughts and urges that’ve cropped up. I don’t want to deal with mounds of tension and stress without a hint of relief. I don’t want the nightmares, and I most definitely don’t want the convulsions.

I am generically quite good to the world, what the fuck is its problem with me?

(There is nothing yours truly enjoys more than taking a random personal observation, warping it way out of proportion and generalising it to all (wo)mankind.)

It’s no secret that women perpetually yearn for men to “communicate more.” Actually, let me rephrase that. (It’s almost no problem if they just yearned for it wistfully, and sighed softly to themselves in disappointment. But no) Women don’t just yearn for men to communicate more, they often demand it. You know, the incessant phone calls (about why there aren’t enough phone calls!), the constant need to express how lacking their man is when it comes to expression, the need to discuss over and over topics that have already been beaten to death… that sort of thing.

Perhaps they don’t realise that men are entirely capable of expression, just without so much emphasis on the god damned talking. Men are clearly more physical, and vastly prefer touchy-feely means of showing (and being shown) how we (you) feel. That is all ladies, it is not like he doesn’t want to express something to you, he just tires easily when having to go on and on translating to a tongue you’ll understand. In case you haven’t realised, for every time you’ve thought “Oh my god, it’s 3 A.M and I have a meeting tomorrow. Why am I still wasting so much time having <insert pleasurable activity here>?” he’s gone, “Oh my god, why am I still talking to her? We’ve gone so many hours yapping without <insert pleasurable activity here>.”

So there you have it; the simple truth. If you’re so concerned about not conversing, start communicating in a tongue he can understand. Remember that he’s the sorts who probably shaves one leg when alone, to feel like he’s rubbing against a woman’s when he sleeps.

(Because I have so much time to work on my core strengths…) I’ve decided to work on a new web site to showcase the work of some talented Indian photographers. These designs are preliminary, but what do you think? Which do you like better? Why?

I intend for things to eventually feel like this site.

I know I’ve been lax about updating the journal, but I have to let you know that my last week was the worst I’ve had in years. Naïvely, I’d assumed that since I was older (and more responsible?), I wouldn’t ever have to spend a night working in the lab again.

I came home perhaps three nights last week. Perhaps.

As tired and spent as I am, I write this entry with a surprising feeling of accomplishment. During the course of the year, I’ve managed to learn (begin learning) something I’ve always wanted to, and was brave enough to give a talk on it too!

Perhaps normal-sounding entries will resume shortly. Perhaps.