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Casey/Male/31-35. Lives in United States/California/San Francisco/The Mission, speaks English and  . Spends 80% of daytime online. Uses a Faster (1M+) connection.
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United States, California, San Francisco, The Mission, English, Spanish, Casey, Male, 31-35.

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Wednesday, December 31, 2003

Poland Or Limbo Or Lower Manhattan.

This year I seem to be unable to accomodate most of my New Year's traditions superstitions. No haircut (got one before Christmas for the Boyfriend's Family Photo.) No black-eyed peas and collard greens (I didn't make it to the grocery store today, nor did I especially want to.) No changing into pink or yellow underwear at midnight (Probably won't be wearing any...woo!) I don't know that any of these things have made my year any more or less lucky anyway, so I'm not so concerned.

But I usually pick a song for the New Year, and since you won't be here to listen to me play it at midnight, I'll let you listen at your convenience: Rufus Wainwright's "I Don't Know What It Is".

Sick of looking around at friendly faces
All declaring a war on far off places.
Is there anyone else who is through
With complaining about what’s been done unto us?
So I knock on the door
And I am on a train
Going god knows where to
To get me over.

Hope we get there soon. Hope you have a Happy, Safe and Peaceful New Year, however you celebrate it.

08:05 PM PST (link)

Letting Time Slip (Greasily) Away.

I've heard it said that people (under capitalism) are not built to handle free time well; we find it difficult to just sit and be idle, particuarly given the number of options available to us.

As of about three hours ago I would have agreed with you. We don't have TV in the house, so I couldn't use America's drug of choice. There's no Christmas buying rush anymore; I can't justify going to define myself by what I purchase. I could work on the site redesign. I could play SSX3 some more. I was trying not to snack compulsively. I'd tried it all: masturbation, procrastination, mastication, Playstation. I was devoid of ideas, and was beginning to look at this week off as a particular waste of time. "I'd have something to do if I was at work," I groused, and then, hearing myself for the first time, stopped in my tracks. I was working hard, like a good capitalist, trying to make my time productive. To produce leisure. But having unscheduled time is only half of the wonder of free time: it's meaningless unless we also feel free enough to spend it anyway we see fit.

As penance for the remark I took a rather lengthy bubble bath (with candles burning and Swayzac playing), had three nice glasses of red wine, and moisturized exceedingly well. I'd go play drunken, naked Playstation now, but a) I'm concerned about leaving a pair of half-moon shaped emollient stains on the futon cover, and b) I'm beginning to nod off. I think it's time to do what comes naturally.

01:06 AM PST (link)

Monday, December 29, 2003

Awkward Vacation Moments Quiz.

1a. Which is more frightening: being identified as your boyfriend's "son" by a waiter in a Thai restaurant, or having his mother correct the man to say that you're his "partner?"

1b. What if a photographer later that same week also called you his son?

1c. What if the photographer was shooting a formal family portrait at the time, in which you were also included? And all family members were dressed in identical clothes for the picture, like a really large folk music group or some Christian cult group?

Other than that we had a good visit with The Boyfriend's family. The flights were uneventful both ways, with completely uncrowded airport security on both ends. I finally got to meet the only other sibling I hadn't met yet, an electrical engineer who very closely fit the stereotype of engineers. His eyes lit up when I understood what vi was, though his heart broke when I told him I used a Mac. Our gifts arrived without a problem; and though I was a little worn out after wrapping them all in one night (airport security, you know), when they were opened on Christmas nearly everyone seemed pleased with what they got. His mother (who was thrilled to be able to give me a sweater vest—in burgundy, no less) even let us sleep in the room with the double bed this year. Which is always a plus.

Now I only have two or three Christmases more to do this year.

10:00 AM PST (link)


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