Yesterday
is not quite what it could've been,
as were most of all the days before.
But, I swear today.
with every breath I'm breathing in,
I'll be trying to make it so much more.

- Relient K, Up And Up

-+-

Leaving work after 13 loving hours in my lab, I was torn.  Should I hit the driving range, go to the gym, or should I run home and work on my lab meeting some more?  As I started whizzing by stoplights, wondering in what direction I should drive my silver sedan, the answer suddenly became obvious: empty my bladder and eat dinner.  Finally handle my human needs.

I'd normally implore myself to slow the fuck down, but after spending so much time running in place, the breathlessness is incredibly refreshing.  Even I'm surprised by how much has happened since my last post, hardly a week ago.

I'm not very religious, but even then, I like to think that when I'm getting it right, like... really right, God goes out of his way to give me a celestial fist bump.  There are good days where after a few good deeds or a few right choices, karma goes into overdrive and gives me the perfect day, the kind where the stars align just right -- all the stoplights are green, I barely make my bus, an onion ring sneaks into my fries, and I suddenly get all the second chances I was secretly praying for.  It's like The Big Guy wants to ever-so-slightly skew the universe in my favor, just enough to communicate, "You go, gurl."

It was shortly before I wrote my last post that I decided to completely re-evaluate the way that I was living my life.  Before then, my priorities became a mess.  My daily routine was abysmal.  Go to work, come home, make dinner, go to sleep.  Go to work, browse online meet-up sites in desperation for friends, meet for dinner, never contact that person again, go to sleep.  Go to work, come home, have a beer, go to sleep.  It was this weird self-pity party that just really wasn't like me.

Since my last post, I've realized how terrible, stagnant, and useless I was letting my days become, and I've since been making strides to fix it.  Incredibly (yet unsurprisingly), when I stopped dwelling on my loneliness with angst and pity, I learned just how much room there was to be happy.

As the poet Matthew Thiessen once said: it's funny how you find you enjoy your life when you're happy to be alive.

Good things come in threes, and likewise, I've had three good things come my way within the last week.

-+-

Part I. The Drive

I was sitting in the car with my sister's boyfriend, Patrick, as we waited for my sister to finish salsa dancing.  We made small talk, when eventually the topic gets to golf.  My interest piqued, "You know, I'm looking for hobbies to do, and I forgot that I used to be really interested in golf.  Maybe I'll look into that!"

By the next day, I registered for a golf lesson.  Two days later, I went out and bought a golf shirt.  I started watching golf videos, and I started getting really amped.  I was getting more excited for this than I expected.  I found a hobby!  I was elated.  Reading "Golf Tips for Beginners" and "How To Get Into Golf" was much more rewarding than my habits of Woe-Is-Me!

I got to my first lesson, and I giggled at my instructor, "teehee i no kno how play gulf," and he was extremely supportive, saying that these classes are all PERFECT for beginners, and that if I want to get into golf, there's nothing in my way!  He said I was learning really quickly, and had me quickly proceed to learning top swing.  Compared to everyone else at the lesson, I sucked, but really -- who cares?  I managed to make contact with the ball, and that was enough to make myself really proud.  From my unfamiliarity with golf posture, my shoulders hated me and my back was stiff.  It was awesome, and I loved it.

I read that for newbies, the priority is to learn how to golf before caring too much about golf clubs.  I went out to town and visited various thrift shops, when I laid my eyes on the most gorgeous ghetto piece of shit golf set I've ever seen.  A driver, a putter, irons out the whoop-dee-doo, golf shoes that don't fit me, tees, and golf balls -- all for $4.

I brought it out to the range to figure out wtf is the difference between the different types of golf clubs, and it was the hardest task with the worn-out grips of my "new" golf set.  My full swing was terrible -- my golf club kept slipping within my grip -- and was worse than my horizontal backswing.  But fuck it, it's my first golf set, and that's awesome.

Can you tell I'm growing to like golf?  If that wasn't clear enough, I'm hoping to start a monthly membership for golf lessons -- "You are starting golf the perfect way, Christa.  I've been playing for a year, and I'm still trying to get rid of my bad swing habits."

Anyone wanna be golf buddies? ^~^

-+-

Part II. The Deal

I had finished my first round of golf lessons, and was overall extremely excited about my new ambitions and viewpoints on life.  I started getting in touch with old friends, and was focusing on being content with myself.  I was pretty much paving the way towards a life where I'm grateful for what I have, yet I'm also ambitious towards self-improvement -- much in contrast with my previous methods of being not just dissatisfied, but stagnant.

It was then, at this pivotal point in Christa's Life in San Diego, that the stars banded together and decided, "Let's throw Christa a bone."

You may have read that I like honey, and I'm growing to stay updated with the San Diego local honey scene.  The day after my first golf lesson, I learned that The San Diego Honey Company had a job opening.  At first, I was just, 'Oh, that's neat,' about it, but as I read about the position, I learned that it fit with my schedule.  A Sunday job at a new local Farmer's Market as a honey vendor.  I read it over again, 'Wait, what?'

It just seemed too good to be true.

"Do you know an energetic person who wants a one day a week job? I need someone to set up my booth and sell honey and some skin care products at the market at The Headquarters Certified Farmer Market on Sundays. They would also need to pack up, so it's about 9 am - 3 pm. I'd be there too for a portion of the day to give breaks and boost sales. Pass my email along to anyone who you think would represent me well with a nice big smile and helpful attitude!"

I told my sister and Jacob about the job, and they both insisted that I apply -- what's the harm in just applying?  In my e-mail, I mentioned my adoration towards honey, and I was asked to come in for an interview that Sunday.

At my interview, I met with Rachel, the head of The San Diego Honey Company, and we chatted about standard interviewing topics, such as my experiences in customer service, my schedule, her expectations, an outline of the job description.  We went back to the San Diego Honey Company booth, and she let me have some honey for free (YES!!1!), then she left to re-park her car.  Meanwhile, the remaining woman at the booth was complaining of hunger, and I told her, "Well, if you need to eat, I can watch the booth for a while."

Customers passed by, and I was already armed with the honey conversations that I've longed to have with fellow honey fans for ages.  One man approached the booth with his theory that light honey is always sweeter, and dark honey is always more bitter -- I taught him that acacia honey, while being so pale that it is almost white, has a surprisingly floral taste while I, too, also previously perceived all light honeys to be on the sweeter side.  One woman asked about applications for honey, and I taught her about a cafe viennese -- a lovely latte concoction prepared with cinnamon and honey.  Another woman mentioned allergies, and I told her about the helpfulness of local honey towards attenuating environmental allergy problems.  By the time Rachel got back to the booth, I had made my first sale.

I essentially made my first honey sale during my interview for the honey position!

She gave me free honey lavender soap as a congrats on my first sale.  I shook her hand, "Thank you for considering me!"

Rachel gave me a look of confusion, "No, I think you're hired, actually.  I'll see you next Sunday at 9?"

"YES!!"

I am now the newest vendor of The San Diego Honey Company.  After all these years of honey fandom, I am now officially a part of the local honey scene of San Diego, California.

I told one of my labmates about my prospects as a honey vendor, and he was discouraged, "I wonder how long before it gets tiring."

Tiring?  I am about to spend my Sunday mornings and afternoons getting paid to talk about honey.  I do that all the goddamn time already, and I'm about to do it not just as a girl that likes honey, but as a Honey Girl!  By golly, that's awesome!

This Sunday is my first official day as a honey vendor.  My thoughts?

Baby, I was made for this.

-+-

Part III. The Date

"Alright, I guess I have a middle-school crush on Alex, that's cool, whatever," has been my reaction to life since the day we grabbed a beer together.

In parallel to my decision to stop dwelling on my lonesomeness to focus on myself, I also decided to accept my immature crush for what it was -- an immature crush. We had only gone on a total of six dates, so I spent weeks being in denial towards missing Alex. No way I still miss him. No way! Finally, I just threw up my hands and took it for what it is, "Okay, I guess I like the boy. I suppose that's a thing now."

Interestingly -- much like how my loneliness quelled as I accepted myself for what I am -- as I decided that I have an irresolvable crush on Alex, my longing for Alex also dissipated.  I'm not sure if that's really how it correlates; maybe it's the irony of deciding to like him, or more likely it's the fact that I just wasn't so lonely anymore.  Either way, I did notice that as of late, I've spent less time hoping that I'll bump into him at the cafe, and more time wondering about which variation of mocha to order.

Alex is still cool like school in summertime, so I just settled into my crush on him.  I mean, why not?  A crush on Alex would be practical, after all.  My logic was this: if I let myself have a hopeless crush on Alex, then I won't have any interest in dating, and alas be more comfortable with myself as an individual and have a better ability to focus on work and platonic relationships.  Ta-dah!  Easy formula for a happy single Christa to stay happy with being single.  That's strategy for ya'!

So of course, it was then that I went out to the bars with Julie, and these two guys approach us.  Despite thinking one of them is actually cute with a likeable personality, I was established in my decision to be wholly disinterested in dating.  As a result, I chose to completely ignore the concept of flirting, or even the concept of following norms in social interaction.  Everyone engaged in relatively mature, sensible conversation, whilst I started rambling about Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh!, and spent a lot of time kicking my feet and making faces at everyone.  I ran around giving people high fives, and I zoned out of conversations to enjoy the decor of the bar.  One boy in particular, who was still making a surprising amount of conversation with me, was standing with his feet shoulder width apart.  I announced, "My shoe goes here nao," and I slipped off my ballerina flat between his feet.  He looked me with confusion, and I giggled, "uhuhuhuhu!"

At the end of the night, after all the weird shit I pulled off, he still asked me for my number.  And truly, that was my first time thinking, "Man, this fucker earned my number."  If you still want my number after I spent the evening singing the Pikachu song and literally running around, then yes, go ahead, have my number.  Take it!

I don't know much about him, but clearly, he is accepting of me in my eccentricities, and that is admittedly good foreshadowing.  I met someone kind of cool -- I'll have to wait and see -- right at the moment that I least desired/wanted/needed it.

So lul, I apparently now have a sushi dinner date on Wednesday.

gg

I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind

- Sufjan Stevens, Chicago

-+-

When Jacob came back for Spring Break, he was still that lovable asshole that I remember, but with a bigger beard.  He was ripping on me when a girl exclaims defensively, "You're so mean to her!"

Jacob replied, "Oh, she doesn't mind, she knows I'm just kidding."

She turned to me, hoping to get my input, clearly expecting me to vent some sort of quiet distress, "Is that really true?"

I turned to Jacob, straight-faced, "Actually, you've just been slowly eating away at my self-esteem this entire time."

I stare at him long enough that his eyes shed a flicker of worry.  Then I start giggling, and we both break out in wholehearted laughter.  And after all those years of depression and those years of recovery, that was actually the moment that I decided,  'Aha, so I guess my self-esteem is actually pretty A-OK now, isn't it?'

-+-

Lately, I haven't been as happy as I'd like to be.  It's a hard thing to admit, but if admission going to happen anywhere, it's going to be here.  I'm sure that with some hindsight, it doesn't really come as a surprise.  Underneath it all, people are social creatures.  Loneliness has an incredible effect on a human being.

This is a morbid viewpoint, but loneliness was actually a lot easier when I had depression.  It's easier to accept defeat when you've already thrown in the towel.  The loss of hope made it acceptable to stop trying; having hope is synonymous with resilience, and that actually makes things more challenging.  When wielding the determination to keep pushing on, it's a far greater task to resist the weight of an avalanche than to succumb to it.

As a working adult in a big city, my attempts to make friends have ranged from starting conversations at bars and coffee shops to meeting people from various online venues -- I've been shy with the confession, but in hopes to make friends, I've met with people from Meetup, OkCupid, and craigslist alike, all with varying success.  I've solicited my co-workers to friendly dinners outside of lab, and of course, I've reconnected and maintained contact with friends from undergrad that happen to be living in San Diego.  The latter has been my greater triumph.  For months, I was satisfied with only spending time with undergrad friends and co-workers.  It was enough to keep a girl from going crazy.  However, a few months ago, my few friends in town were MIA with illness and travel, and I had to become far more comfortable in my solitude.

For a while, I managed well.  However, I hit my breaking point at the San Diego Contemporary Museum of Art.  Since then, for most of the last month, my giggles were punctuated with a sullen dissatisfaction.  Everything touched by sunlight was covered with a film of despondence.  For more than a month, all I craved was a decent conversation... and actually, I did get that, numerous times.  I've met a variety of characters across a wide realm of people.  Yet, my situation never changed.  Except for brief periods (i.e. lunch with lab, dinners with Julie, a visit from Jacob), I continually felt dissatisfied.  I still felt lonely.  I never seemed to be achieving what I was hoping for, despite spending so many dinners in someone else's company.  I would consistently fail to follow through with a second meeting, because nothing seemed to ever change anything.  I just never felt content.  I always felt so reprehensibly alone.

To make additional moves towards alleviating my unhappiness, I started the 100 Happy Days! challenge on my Instagram, which consists of posting one happy thing a day for 100 consecutive days.  I tell people a variety of reasons of why I'm doing it.  I tell them it's out of solidarity with my sister who is undertaking it with me, or I tell them that it's all for the free booklet you get at the end of it if you complete it successfully.  In reality, I'm doing it for its anecdotal benefits of mood improvement and improved mental health.  I started it because I wasn't happy and I wanted to be.

While I was the midst of this 100 Happy Days! mission, I sat in front of my on-call lab building that overlooked the Pacific Ocean.  I was sipping a cup of hot coffee, about to use a photo of my amazing view as my happy moment of the day.  Then, I heard a booming voice behind me.  I recognized the voice instantly.  Alex.  I overheard that he was having a bad day, and I afterwards texted him, "You were the loudest person on this patio," and I extended my sympathy towards his failed mouse experiment.  Towards the end of my workday, I followed with, "This text is a coupon for free coffee on me, whenever."

He replied, "Right now."

With that, I left work, and I got on the next shuttle to his building.  We ended up enjoying a beer together during his one-hour bacterial incubation period.  "Christa, how's life?" he eventually asked, "It's been a while."

"A month and a half," I smiled.

"What? No way, it's only been three weeks, at most," Alex stared in disbelief, "although I do have a bad perception of time."

I let him think that it's been three weeks.  In reality, I've all but counted the days.

We spent a lot of time laughing.  The hour came and went, and he offered to drive me to my car.  For the length of that beer and that car ride, I felt it again.  I felt that spark, and even though the sky was overcast, colors seemed beautiful and saturated.  As he sang along to his car radio, taking me on the scenic route along the La Jolla vista, I felt content.  Of course, I asked Alex to be the highlight of my day for my 100 Happy Days! project.  In the resulting photo, he's a blur of a thing, booping me on my nose.  Absolutely perfect.

A few days have passed since then, and many more happy moments, but everything keeps taking my mind back to that boop on the nose.

It hit me like a baseball bat when I came to the realization that my insatiable loneliness is so much more simple and juvenile than I led myself to believe.

I'm just a girl that misses a boy.

The revelation was asinine but incredibly refreshing.  I felt dumb from its simplicity, but I also felt free.  I’m taking forever to get over him, and that makes me incredibly sad and frustrated.  However, it’s not a permeating emptiness that contributes to my identity.  With that single epiphany, I retracted from "lonely" to just "alone."  That was an incredible start.  Without the desperation of lonesomeness, my shy cries for help quelled almost immediately.  I ducked out of my superfluous involvement in meet-up websites, where I was grasping at every straw for a friend, and then rejecting every offer for one.

The answer was slow to come, but I’m finally managing my way to it.  After that leap of a first step, my mind is so much less fixated on unhappiness.  Rather than focusing on my Have-Nots, I’m starting to shift my attention to my Haves. I’m starting to see my sadness with a new perspective.  I’m spending so much time looking for a social life that I’ve neglected myself entirely.  What’s that old saying?  You have to love yourself before others can love you.  Something cheesy like that.

Instead of focusing outwards, longing for dependency, I’m finally making strides to focus inwards.  Instead of sitting in various coffee shops constantly forcing small talk, I’ve decided to pursue my adolescent interests with golf, and I registered for golfing classes (for which I am MEGA excited about).  While I was incessantly fishing for random faces, I was losing touch with my current friends and connections.  Instead of spending my evenings lethargically wishing I wasn’t so alone, I agreed to join a coed social sport with an old friend.  Instead of running through new potential companions at a mile a minute, I’m finally sending messages of, “It’s been a while since we’ve talked!  How have you been?”

Dammit all, I’m living in America’s Finest City, and I’ve squandered it by focusing on how pitiful I am.

well then, SELF-PITY NO MOAR!

HUAH!!

-+-

Me: Eep I saw Alex
Me: We had a beer together
Jacob: orly
Jacob: how was that
[…]
Me: So we chatted the whole hour and he even drove me to my car
Me: So it was rly nice
Me: Like too nice
Me: I’m so pissed that he’s so likeable
Jacob: whatever im better
Me: LOL

After mentioning the above Facebook conversation to my sister, she simply goes, “I like Jacob.  He’s cool.  He has no tact.  It's awesome.”

Man, I like my loved ones.

Everybody said they were glad to see you go --
but no one ever has to know.

-- Alex Wong & Vienna Teng, In the Creases

-+-

I sigh in defeat.  I'm trying to listen to a lively anecdote, but the persistent flashbacks distract me.  The memory of an index finger booping me on the nose takes me aback, and my mind comes back to the restaurant.

Relatively speaking, I'm not supposed to take this long getting over someone, especially someone that I saw for such a short period of time.  After all, what's the rule?  However long you were seeing each other, you're allowed half that length of time to get over that person (i.e. I was with Phuc for nearly six years, so technically my grace period for that relationship is still ongoing).  Now this kid?  I saw him for a month, and it's now almost a month later.  Isn't this illegal?  My current state of mind is, well, unlike me.

Yet, even after reaching acceptance and agreeing that it was all for the best, the jazz music keeps playing in my head.  God, I can still feel that soft blonde hair between my fingers.  I still think of that gaze as he admitted, like a sinner in confession, "I have to tell you, Christa.  You're absolutely gorgeous.  You are stunning.  You are... the perfect girl, and I have to keep stepping back to remind myself that this is all real."

It becomes increasingly clear that this, right now... accepting a naive invitation to coffee, to dinner, to converse and exchange warm glances -- this is a charade.   I relax the tension in my shoulders as I spill unfamiliar words, surrendering to honesty, "I have to be upfront with you.  I'm not the most emotionally available girl in the world right now. ..."

I have to say, I'm happy with where we are right now, and I hope so dearly for us to grow into friends.  Yet, still I wait for the day that I can get him out of my head.

-+-

As far as this blog goes, the better part of my last month has existed in half-written scribbles on random pieces of paper whenever I could scrounge up free time.  There are half-written hooks and pieces of exposition.  There are quotes out of context and dialogue with no meaning.

A lot can exist in hindsight, but those heartbeats -- as crude as they are -- are pulses that seek permanence.

Rather than re-writing history to tell you my life as it was, here are those excerpts as they exist in my scraps of paper -- trapped in time and in poor handwriting.

-+-

Not dated.

I am currently writing this in the basement of my lab building -- in the vivarium, where we keep our laboratory mice.  Life has been good since I've last written, although maybe not as typical and predictable.  My "lonely bug" days have been steadily decreasing as the city slowly feels less and less new.

-+-

1/23/14

something near me smells delicious

is it this omelette?

it must be

-+-

2/20/14

how to be alone

A long time ago, at a time that I always euphemistically refer to as "The Old Life" in writing, I used to date a boy named Phuc, and one fair summer afternoon after a few years together, he broke up with me.

I don't bring that up in implication of longing or melancholy for that lost love, but to mention all of the incredible foreshadowing that I chose to ignore.  Namely -- one day, he sent me a YouTube video titled "How to Be Alone" several weeks prior to leaving me.

Honestly, I don't remember much about that video.  Or article?  (To be honest, I really don't remember the form of its content -- I'm really just guessing.)  I was so lost in my dependency on Phuc that it completely went over my head.  "Why would I need to read/watch (whatever it was) this?  I don't have any reason to -- I have Phuc."

Of course, in the end, it wasn't a lesson that I learned at the the time, but it was something that I would eventually learn all the same.

I mentioned my ongoing battle with loneliness in an earlier blog post, after which I ended up going through a hell of a time.

Just romantically, these past few months have been remarkable in their events and frustration, especially after a long period of absolutely nothing. I spent Thanksgiving with Jacob, upon which I thought I witnessed the death of our friendship, then I spent my birthday with Jacob, upon which we both rekindled our affections, our mutual respect, and finally resolved our existence as friends.  I had a month-long kind-of-dating-until-i-uhhh-dumped-him with Jon, during which I was integrated into the tattooed vegan death metal community of San Diego -- whatever your mind's reaction to that is, that's probably true.

Then there's Alex.  You don't know much about him.  For now, just know that it's over.  And that he's tall.  And that I miss him.

My platonic life has little current, but it's not so stagnant that it's attracting mosquitoes.  I have an undergrad friend from UCSD who I regularly grab dessert with.  I have a friend from UC Merced who I visit sometimes.  I most frequently see my labmates and my friend from my first TSRI internship, and sometimes my sister when our paths collide.

It's something -- at least enough to keep me from going insane -- but it's definitely a world away from the extroversion that I explored during my undergrad.  I've been touring museums by myself all month.  I watched the Lego Movie by myself the other day.  Hell, right now, I am writing this alone in a bar.  Yes, I am that girl, writing the draft for her blog in a notebook at a bar.

With that, I can't help but remember the day that Phuc sent me that link: How to Be Alone.

I just came from San Diego's Contemporary Museum of Art, and I think that's the moment it happened for me.  I stood there, beholding a remarkable view of the ocean and the sunset.  I heard voices around me echoing off the marble floor.  I looked around me, and I came to a realization: I am the only person here alone.  Everyone else here came with someone.  Except me.  This was not the first museum where I've reached this conclusion, but this was the first time that it significantly bothered me.  Maybe it's because Alex called it off so recently.  Maybe it's because I've gone too long without human contact outside of my lab.  Maybe it's because the sight of this massive ocean just overwhelmed me, making me feel so miniscule. Whatever it was, it was magnified by the cold white walls and looming photos around me.

In that moment, I felt so small.

"Alone" crossed the line into "lonely."

-+-

Not dated.

I was going to start drafting a blog but lol j/k I'm drunk and sleepy

-+-

Most recent.  Not dated.

It is clear to me that the way I feel defies logic.  We didn't know each other that long, and we didn't see each other that much.  Effectively, he was destined to become a blur.  Wasn't he?

Nonetheless, just as it takes mere seconds to marvel in a breath of fresh air, it takes just as little time to feel trapped without it.  In the midst of what should remain a passing dream, it becomes difficult to bargain with these moments of lucidity.

On all counts, I reason that he was incredibly frustrating, borderline flaky -- his devotion to his work made him constantly unreachable and seemingly undependable.  I spent a lot of time wondering if this was worth the emotional investment, or if I should just give up.  If I should stay patient and hang in there, or if I should throw in the towel.

While I describe my canonical work ethic as "self-motivated, albeit at times to a fault," referencing my senior year ulcers and ending college with doctor-prescribed senioritis, I would describe him as actually having a genuine addiction to his work.  If there was an available afternoon in his life, that afternoon became dedicated to optimizing his mouse surgeries.  A day off simply meant an opportunity to lyse his mouse earpieces for genotyping.  It was hard to argue with the suggestion that his life was his lab.

What really makes it difficult is that after weeks of neglected opportunities to see each other, I spent a lot of time battling with the thought, "Is this really worth it?"  I was caught between A) I have a great time when I'm with him, and B) but I never see him.  A week before it was over, I decided the answer was yes.  I decided he was worth hanging in there.  He decided to give up exactly when I decided not to.

While I know I'm hurt by losing him, I'm also hurt by losing what he symbolized for me.  Since Phuc, I've never really settled down.  Jacob was the closest I've gotten since then, but even then, I never expected it to manifest into anything more than summer romance (I'm honestly incredibly surprised that we still talk now as friends).

This was the first time in ages that I looked someone in the eyes and thought, "Damn, this guy is just... really, really awesome."  No mixed feelings, no conflicted emotions, no hunting for red flags.  In spite of spending so much time being jaded, I let my guard down quickly with him.  That is, if I even ever had it up at all.  Every time we smiled at each other, I melted.  Even the first time we made eye contact, we were both just glowing.  I couldn't help but think that, man... this is the guy.  This is the guy I can see myself being with for a long time.

My beef was specifically with my lack of seeing him; when we managed to find time together, everything was pretty damn perfect.  He was clearly self-aware that I was frustrated at how little I managed to see him -- "I can't give you what you deserve.  I don't have my shit together, and we both know it.  I'm just not cut out for a relationship right now."

From the second that he asked, "Christa, can we have a chat," I've agreed with no hesitation.  Ending it was really for the best.  I know fully well that the way things were, we weren't cut out for much.  Compatibility can only go so far.

Nonetheless: dammit.  God, I really liked him.

-+-

With that, these notes in purple and green ink (lol I left all my black pens in lab) will now find their way into a welcoming recycling bin -- from there, they'll turn into a recycled bench or something.  Or more paper.

lol whatever

Q: