last post for November '09

Thanksgiving Break is over, and for the next two weeks I will be waist-deep in papers and projects. Actually, that's a lie. I have two fifteen-page papers to write (one on Life During the Babylonian Exile, another on the Complaints of Jeremiah) and one twenty-minute presentation to throw together. I'm more concerned about the papers than the presentation. I'm good with public speaking and holding peoples' attention with even the most boring of subjects. But other than homework, this week should be pretty easy. I have a job interview on Wednesday at a place called Transitions, Incorporated, right across the river. I'm unsure if I want the job, but I'll never pass down an interview. I need to get a good job, though, so I can stay in Cincinnati come May. I hope to be getting my own place, a quiet apartment somewhere, but a full-time and well-paying job is a necessity for this. I absolutely do not want to move back home, divorcing myself from the throngs of friends I have down here in Cincinnati. I'm plagued with Writer's Block once again, and whenever I start a book and get excited about it, it flounders. I think this may be due to the fact that my last novel was a quintessential masterpiece in my own eyes, a complexity of themes wrapped around the lives of several individuals, an 800-page marvel (in my own estimation). I've gotten countless excellent reviews from those who have read it (it's available in hardback and paperback online), and I'm worried that anything I spout out next won't be as good. What if I have reached the pinnacle of my "writing career"?

Now I'm off to the bank. I realized that I only have three bucks in my pocket and I owe Jessie twenty (she bailed me out of a dire predicament last week). Afterwards I shall clean the house for a bit. I wish I were taking my first nap of the week (I traditionally nap between 3:00 and 5:00 on Mondays and Wednesdays).

Hopefully December will be better than November.
But that may be asking for a lot seeing as I'll probably be jobless in three weeks!

the lehman house [31]

The French Quarter Bistro in Mariemont

Monday. Last night I joined Sarah for a trip north to give her family a credit card she’d accidentally “stolen”, and we rendezvoused at a funeral home in full swing. “Enjoy the corpse!” I croaked as they headed inside. I don’t know where it came from, and I felt really bad, so we got the hell out of there. This morning I worked 9:30-1:00 with Nate & Rob, then hung out with Gambill and Mykaela between classes. Sarah came home from work with James at her heels (he’s leaving for Denver this week), and we watched comedy DVDs and fixed dinner and the kitchen. Sarah and Ams were making jabs at my physical flaws, and oddly enough it didn’t bother me. Sarah apologized, said, “You can be mean to me.” I told her No. “Damn you for always taking the High Road.” I told her one day I’d just explode on her and she’d end up in tears. Her eyes went wide; “Really?” I told her no, that “I’ll just be cold towards you.” She frowned; “That’d be sad…”

Tuesday. I did Christmas shopping at the Kenwood Mall after classes. When Sarah returned from work, we ate dinner—peanut butter sandwiches—and spent the evening watching TV. I keep thinking about the memories we could be making together, but the only memories are those of my inadequacy. The depression, the hopelessness, the helplessness… It continues to deepen. A numbness stained with sorrow. Forced smiles and empty laughter. My life wasn’t supposed to end up like this. My dreams were supposed to come true. I used to have so much hope, used to believe I’d fall in love, get married, have a family. And I HAVE fallen in love. I loved Courtney. But we didn’t get married; she loved and married someone else. As for a family, there have been two miscarriages and I’m more than embittered. Such grand hope and great expectation replaced by a cold and stoic acknowledgement that in life, What you want, you can’t have; what you have, you can’t keep; and that which you love will, eventually, be taken from you. Where can one find solid hope in this life? Nowhere. No matter how hard we seek, how earnestly we pray, how often we weep, reality constantly bitch-slaps us in the face. I was an idiot, a fool!, for thinking anything pleasant could be found in this life. I was deceived, my eyes clouded by hope, but now my eyes are open and I’m enlightened.

Wednesday. The landlord was supposed to come by and work on our plumbing but he never showed. I went to Bellevue to interview for a positions with Transitions, Inc. Ashley M. and Rob covered my ass at the Hilltop. Jobst and I went to The Anchor when I got out of class. Driving in the pouring rain sucked. Ams went to school and Sarah went to hang out with her friend Moose.

Thursday. Sarah and I went grocery shopping when she got home from work. That was the highlight of my day.

Friday. I worked 9:30-1:00 with Nate, Rob and Matt. Jessie and I grabbed Thai Taste (I had crab sushi). I went to Tri-County to see Sarah, and I got funny Christmas gifts for Mom & Dad at the Kenwood Mall, and then I visited Ams at Chic-fil-A and met her boss Sergio. Sarah and I went to the French Quarter Bistro, a ritzy bar in Mariemont. Way too high-class for simple folk such as ourselves. She had beer and soup, and I had a martini. Got buzzed fast. We shared lots of laughter.

Saturday. I ate lunch at Tri-Health, the Greek pizza and Greek pasta. Ams yelled at me for not buying toilet paper. Chris, Sarah, Ams and I went to the Kenwood Mall. Sarah and I went to The Container Store and Crate & Barrel, fantasizing about bedroom sets we’ll never have. We ate at the food court and then Chris left, being a jerk, and then we went home. Chris joined us back home, and Sarah made jokes about how I’ll never get to sleep with her and then more jokes about how she’s fucked random guys without even knowing their names. She said it’s OK to make those jokes, because we can make each other feel awkward. “Except when you feel awkward, it’s a compliment; when I feel awkward, it’s a hack at my self-esteem.” Later on in the evening she apologized: “I didn’t mean to be a bitch…”

Sunday. I spent the day reading and writing and then worked 5:45-9:00 with Sarah and John. Mykaela swung by and we hung out, and Brittany came by, too. Sarah’s friend Moose came by, and we hung out in the living room drinking beers. I want to hope that things will get better, that a day will come when the Shakespearean tragedy entitled “My Life”—a tragic comedy, mind you—will become a blossoming romance with a happy ending. But I’m losing hope in happy endings; I’ve never experienced them. As of now my life’s on Repeat, the same storyline repeated in different locales and with different faces. The storyline is Hope leads to Disappointment leads to Disillusionment leads to Resignation. Oh, and a major theme is watching those you’ve loved have their dreams handed to them on silver platters while God and his favor is nowhere to be found.

the cycle of life

Last night I lied down in bed and wrote about seven pages in my journal which I entitled "The Cycles of Life." Ultimately it was no more than me meditating on my life, following the experiences of my life, and coming to this conclusion. Here it is:

I guess I'm just waiting for something to change.
A hope that one day a hope will not end up being a disappointment.

I told Amanda the other day, "My life is a series of disappointments. A series of new hopes that wear different names and different faces, and each of these hopes, no matter what it's been, has been a disappointment. It's gotten to the point that I'm almost afraid of hoping. I tinker with the idea that hope is nothing more than an escapist maneuver we embrace to avoid the pain of the present, that hope is an illusion we give ourselves over to in order to keep from facing reality square in the face. I've always said hope is barbed wire: the tighter you hold on, the more it'll hurt. I'm slowly coming to the point where I'm convinced that hope is a stupidity, that the logical and wise person would have nothing to do with it. But then again, I'm not so much afraid of hope--maybe it is a good thing--but rather the outcome. When you've hoped time and time again and been disappointed just as many times, then why hope? You're just setting yourself up to get hurt."

Monthly Weigh-In #1

So I've decided to stop with the once-a-week weigh-ins and to go with a once-a-month weigh-ins. I'm doing this for two reasons. First, because I'm lazy. It's too much work to take pictures and upload them once a week and give a synopsis of the week's ups and downs. And second, because week-to-week there are so many variations in my weight and progress. On a one-month scale, the changes are more visible and recordable. So this will be the first monthly weigh-in, and I'm actually posting the picture from last week (since that would be the one-month mark). Here it is, weighing in at 175 pounds.

I will see this, though: Thanksgiving has NOT been good for my dieting. Ha.

of lighters and joel osteen

Thanksgiving has actually been pretty good this year. Minus the fact that the battery in my Prizm died. I need a jump anytime I want to go somewhere, and when I turn off the engine, I have five-ten minutes before the power amped up by the alternator flatlines and I'm left looking for another person to pop their hood and let me stick my cables inside. Amanda jumped my car this morning, and we drove to my grandparent's house in New Carlisle. It was pointless for me to drive, and I realized this halfway; I had been planning on dropping off the Prizm at my parent's house so my dad, who speaks like an expert when it comes to cars, could check it out. This was foolish of me to do, because I'd already figured out what the problem was; and after the festivities, I had Amanda jump my car again, and we drove back down to Cincinnati. I'm getting a new battery tomorrow. I'm just glad it's not the alternator or starter, because at least with a battery I am not so ignorant that I can't figure it out.

The meal at my grandparents' house was delicious, per usual: turkey, green bean casserole, broccoli casserole, homemade rolls, homemade mashed potatoes, corn and waldorf salad, and--of course!--sweet potato casserole. It was good seeing the family, and Amanda and I got to spend time together which we don't do too often (which is strange, because we live in the same house and see each other all the time). Tomorrow I have a day to run some errands and get things done (e.g. fixing my car and writing a term paper), and then Saturday we are going down to Lexington to celebrate Thanksgiving with my mom's side of the family. We're doing a Thanksgiving lunch, hanging out, then going to see a movie. It should be a good time.

Last night was quite enjoyable. Two of my friends, whom I've known for about fifteen years, came down to Cincinnati: Dylan and his twin brother Tyler. We got Wendy's for dinner and made a fire, using the remnants of the Bacardi 151 for fuel, as well as an entire bottle of lighter fluid. We burned a Joel Osteen book, which I remarked to be "the most Christian thing I've done this year." There is a picture of this religious burning at the beginning of this post. We also threw lighters into the fire and watched them blow up. I recorded one such incident on film, and here it is:

i hate the holidays

I hate the holidays. They're so depressing. For some people, holidays are emblems of joy and reunion. For me, they stand as emblems of disappointment. Thanksgiving and Christmas are all about getting together with your family, celebrating new family members through engagements and births, and that's great; but for me, when I sit at the Thanksgiving table and stand out on the porch smoking in the falling snow, I am reminded of how close I've come to experiencing my greatest dream, and also how, so far, I have been unable to fully grasp it. Dreams step into your life, flaunt themselves in spinning and twirling dances, casting their brilliant light over you in such a manner that all shadows flee; and then they dwindle and fade and the shadows encroach once more, and not only are you left aching for the dream, but you are forced to remember what it was like to have it so close and then to lose it like sand through a sieve. I hate the holidays, and I can't wait for January to come. One friend said it best: "Life is a series of disappointments. Get used to it." The holidays simply amplify this.

the lehman house [30]

Monday. I fixed breakfast for Sarah, spent the afternoon watching movies. Sarah called me from work in tears, her grandpa, in the nursing home, had a heart attack and a stroke. He’s alive, at least, though he doesn’t know what’s going on (dementia). Sarah came home sad about her grandpa, and so I broke out some tequila and we took about twelve shots between us.

Tuesday. I dreamt Sarah and I were cuddling naked under the sheets, woke up sad that it wasn’t real. I went back to bed and had another dream where I met a skinny, blond, beautiful girl who was absolutely in love with me. I picked up Jobst, and we had quesadillas for lunch, smoked our pipes, and watched “Die Hard.” He left and I burnt several CDs for Sarah’s drive to Gatlinburg tomorrow. She didn’t come home until late, visiting her grandpa in the nursing home after work.

Wednesday. Breakfast was scrambled eggs with mushrooms. Sarah headed to Gatlinburg and Tyler came down, and we played chess until Dylan arrived. We got dinner at Wendy’s and burnt Joel Osteen books on the back deck, using the last of the Bacardi 151 and a whole can of lighter fluid as accelerant. We also threw lighters in the fire and watched them explode. “Slumber party!” Tyler exclaimed, and I pulled up the spare mattresses and we crammed into my room and I smoked cigarettes in bed and Tyler kept coughing so he moved out to the sofa around 6 AM but was cold so he headed home.

Thanksgiving. Dylan left around 9:00. My car’s not working, the battery’s dead. Ams and I went to New Carlisle to celebrate Thanksgiving with Dad’s side of the family. Good food, good coffee, good company. The drive home was dark and wet, cold and miserable. Ams went to Chris’, so I had the house to myself. I did some reading, watched TV, and played video games. Sarah called from Gatlinburg to quote Hari Kari. “I saw a bear walking down the main drag, and it had a shirt in its mouth!”

Friday. I did nothing all day except read, watch TV, and play video games. Ams worked and was with Chris, Sarah’s in Gatlinburg, and being fall break, most of my friends were out-of-town seeing family.

Saturday. Dad got here around 10:30 and we changed out the Prizm’s battery before heading down to Kentucky. We celebrated Thanksgiving with Mom’s side of the family in Lexington, at Jesse’s house. Great food and much laughter. Mom and I took tequila shots together, and Dad and I played half a game of chess. I fell asleep to Mom & Aunt Teri ranting and raving about how Grandpa M. made a huge deal about coming to the Thanksgiving dinner but never showed. All the guys went to a Tailgate party and the women went out to see a movie, and I headed home. Sarah returned from Gatlinburg, and we smoked cigarettes and she told me of all her adventures in Tennessee.

Sunday. Sarah told me, unprovoked, that the thought of having sex with me is revolting. And then she started complaining about how no guys like her, how guys just want to be her friend. I got so fucking pissed that I had to go for a drive. I told Mandy about all the stupid shit Sarah says, and she quipped, “You should seriously tell her to shut the fuck up. You’re a great guy, and Sarah’s so fucked up by her self-image issues that she can’t NOT be an idiot. You shouldn’t waste your time on her.” Ams takes Sarah’s side, and she has a good point: all this sucks for Sarah, ‘cause she shouldn’t have to censor herself from me, and she knows that talking about boys upsets me. “You need to detach yourself from her, Anth. She’s missing out by not being with you, and she’ll have to be damn lucky to find a guy who will offer her what you offered her. You tried, Anth. That’s all you can do. You just need to move on.” I went to The Anchor to do some reading and praying through James 4.4-10. My repentance has sucked. Partly due to my own lack of self-control and partly due to the nagging thoughts, Why repent to a God who doesn’t care about you? What’re you hoping to find? Hope? You know Hope’s a damned lie. A new future? God doesn’t give a damn about you. He allows you to be suicidal when you plead for help. There’s no hope to be found in him, just more disappointment. I fight against these lies—these “damned lies” as Dyke calls them—but it’s so difficult to not believe them. Everything I’ve ever hoped for has been a disappointment. Dad told me, “Life is good, interspersed with moments of sadness.” He’s obviously not living my life. My life’s marked by shattered hopes, fruitless dreams, countless regrets, and unending disappointments. I told him, “No, life’s suffering interspersed with brief moments of happiness.” Maybe I’m just unfortunate. Or cursed. Maybe fate is real; and if so, she’s a cold-hearted bitch.

my sunday

This morning I went to church at Vineyard Westside with Rob and Mandy. The preacher spoke on sex and marriage. At one point he was talking about the breaking of the virgin's hymen and the blood and its representation of covenant, and Mandy said, "At least this isn't weird," to which I replied, "All I know is that I'm really craving cherry cobbler." Afterward we went out to eat at the famed Price Hill Chili. My first time. Got a Mediterranean Pita Wrap and some fries. Back home I rearranged my room to make it cozier and homier (both Ams and Sarah really like it), and then I drank a cool glass of water (I was quite thirsty) and napped till 6:00. Sarah had gone to see her grandpa today, and when she came back home, we went and saw the new Twilight movie. She liked it. Almost cried. My review? "Two thumbs down." I told her, "I didn't hate it. It's just not my kind of movie." She said, "But you're a really sensitive and romantic guy!" to which I replied, "Yes. But I'm still a guy." Here's a pic I took from Newport on the Levee, where we saw the movie:

snapshots: newport aquarium

on cognitive dissonance

This evening (I am writing this at 12:17 am) was pretty good. Sarah and I went out to Panera Bread for dinner, filmed silly dance videos, and watched Gilmore Girls (not too big a fan of that part). But as the evening progressed, I went into the quiet of my room and became overwhelmed out of nowhere with a terrible sadness. I didn't want to be in the house so I got into my car at 10:30 at night and drove down onto US-50 and drove west until I reached Rising Sun, Indiana. I got out and went to the river, sat down on a bench, and sat in the absolute darkness with the only sound that of passing cars and the water lapping against the rocks. And all I could think was, "Life teaches us lessons, and we'd better damn well pay attention." My life has taught me many lessons; through my experiences, I've learned the nature of things. Some deny this nature, and maybe they're right; but when your experiences confirm again and again your current perspective on things (and, mind you, my current perspective has not always been my perspective; in truth, my perspective has evolved and morphed and transformed, been shattered and rebuilt again and again). We perceive the world through the lens which we wear, and oftentimes our perception of this world is based not upon the reality of the world itself but upon what we want reality to be. For example: some people believe in a thing called Destiny. A fictional conversation from a book I've been writing illustrates this point:

He had told Camille, There is no such thing as fate. There is only choice, and the consequences of our actions and the consequences of the actions of others. There is no guiding light in anything. Our lives pan out not due to what the stars have written for us, not for destiny, but they pan out according to our decisions and the decisions of others, and their affects on us. He had spoken so eloquently, and when he talked with her sometimes imagined himself behind a podium, dressed in a gray suit and black tie, speaking before an audience of naive children overcome with the ideals of destiny and fate, ideals pressed forth by Disney and cartoons. He had continued, Destiny is an escapist tactic. It is what we use to console ourselves. When life does not go according to plan, we tell ourselves that our destiny is much better, and we convince ourselves to be patient and persistent. Camille had told him that she believed in destiny, and he had been enraged. She had been genuinely surprised at his anger when he had leaned over the table and said, How can you believe that? Anyone who actually observes the world can see it's nothing but a lie. Rape, murder, genocide. You say your destiny is good. What about everyone else's destiny? What about the destiny of the little girl whose father molests her, and she turns to sexual deviance out of trying to overcome that and gets AIDS and dies? What about the destiny of the young woman who is chopped to pieces by her husband? What about the destiny of the hundreds in Africa who are slaughtered because of their ethnicity? Where is destiny for them? Camille had dropped the subject, and he had leaned back in his seat and gripped his soda with white-knuckled fingers. She didn't press the issue, had changed the subject, but he continued to fume. When everything started happening, and when his entire family fell ill but he was left alone, and when he walked the streets amidst the caravans carrying the dead, and when he smelled the stench of the burning corpses, and when he walked through the hospitals with the sick lining the walls, someone had told him, an elderly woman clutched in the vice of her last moments, Fate is sparing you. And at that moment he wondered if he was being smitten for his own arrogance, for his own refusal to believe; and he wondered if there were such a thing as fate; and he became convinced that if there was such an animal, it was not a pie-in-the-sky and happy-go-lucky beast, but rather a cold-hearted whore.

The main character of this story is a reflection of my own belief: that there is no such thing as destiny. I used to believe in a thing called destiny, and that destiny fostered a thing called hope. And then when my pie-in-the-sky, happy-go-lucky perception of the world was shattered, I was bathed in a deep and gloomy darkness, and in that hellhole I went through cognitive dissonance: when our perceived reality does not match up with the reality presenting itself. When one experiences cognitive dissonance, there are three routes he can take. First, he can rebel: he can ingrain himself even deeper into the prison of his futile hoping and ignore reality, constantly reminding himself that things will get better and that great things are in store for him; and the one who does this will constantly find himself experiencing cognitive dissonance again and again, and if he does not persist in his rebellion, then he will embrace one of the other two courses. The second course is that of resignation: it is resigning oneself to reality in great despair, falling into the pit of helplessness and hopelessness; those who truly resign usually go out with a bang--literally--or a few slashes to the wrist. The third course is that of rebuilding: it is perceiving reality as it has presented itself and remolding and reshaping one's perception to fit better the reality that is presenting itself). I have taken the third course of action: I have rebuilt my perspective on things into a perception that is more in keen with my experiences. And my perception is this: there is no such thing as fate, no such thing as destiny, and our lives pan out according to happenstance and the consequences of our actions and the consequences of the actions of others.

This is not an optimistic nor pessimistic perception of things. On the one hand, it is liberating--if there is no such thing as destiny, no such thing as fate, then we have a say in the matter as to how things will pan out. Of course, our say in the matter is offset by chance events and the "sayings" of others. On the other hand, it calls into questions the substance of our hopes: if we have been hoping in destiny, then we must find somewhere else to place our hope. When I first realized that my hope has often been placed in wrong places, it was devastating; when you spend eight years of your life hoping for something, and then realizing that the hope itself was ill-placed, and when you see the unfulfillment of that hope slapped in your face, it makes you rethink things. A person can hold this view--my view--and be pessimistic, and a person can hold this view and be optimistic. I fall somewhere in the middle (not a "realist", I hate how the term is used; I don't know which term to choose).

I would be naive if I thought that my current review would remain with me forever. I may have more experiences that will cement this view in my mind, or I may have experiences that totally bring this view crashing to the ground. But this is my current view, and while I was at the river's edge, sitting on that bench, I realized that I have been foolishly placing hope in something ridiculous, that I have been like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand to avoid seeing what really surrounds me. My life has taught me lessons, and I'd damn well better pay attention.

one month and i graduate!

I just got done with my last shift of work at the cafe before Thanksgiving Break. Thus I am now opening my arms wide to what should be a fantastic week. Nate--my boss and my good friend--kept making jokes at work about how bad a worker I was (I used to be awful, but I'm "reformed" as Karen said), and Karen (my other boss) didn't like the fact that he was saying such things, and so she let me get a free drink. So I ordered an iced caramel macchiato and it is now sitting in the fridge; I'll drink it after my nap. Dylan and Tyler were supposed to come down today, but we've postponed it till Wednesday; I may end up going to Springboro tonight to take part in the annual Christmas festival. If so, I'll give Dylan and Tyler a ring (who live nearby), and we'll hit it up together. It's always a good chance to run into old friends and drink free coffee in the cold. I told Nate today, "Nothing's better than a hot latte when the rain is pouring and the wind is blowing." I'll settle for coffee tonight if I head up there.

I got a phone call from a place in Kentucky that works with disadvantaged men and women, and they asked me to come in for an interview. There are both Full Time and Part Time positions available; while I'd probably just be a paper-pusher, I'd be content knowing I was working with a company that actually sought to make a difference in peoples' lives. I'm going to call them Monday and schedule the interview.

Everything is completed for my graduation save for a few term papers. I'll finish them by the end of the week, turn them in, and from then out it's smooth sailing. I've been nervous--as most are--about graduation, especially whether or not I've met all the requirements (there are so many at CCU). But I just received an email telling me everything is good to go. I've got all the classes, all my community service hours, filled out all the necessary paperwork... Come, December 19th, come!

My friend Jess Lynn is calling in a few moments, and then I'm going to work out for a bit and take a nap. Definitely looking forward to the nap more.

my upcoming week

It is 5:20 on Thursday evening, and I'm done with school for over a week thanks to Thanksgiving Break. I'm pretty excited about it. I don't really have too much planned. Tomorrow I may be hanging out with some friends, Saturday I'm taking Sarah out to see my "surprise" (I hope she'll like it) and getting Thai food with my Thai friend Faikham. Sunday I'm going to see "New Moon" (don't really wanna see the movie, but it's better than sitting home alone). On Monday, Faikham and I are going to Jungle Jim's in the morning, and she's going to fix me a Thai lunch back at the house. On Tuesday we are having our "Thanksgiving Dinner" here at the house with Sarah and Ams. Wednesday I may be hanging out with friends, Thursday I hope to knock out two term papers for the end of the semester, Friday and Saturday are going to be spent in New Carlisle and Lexington respectively to celebrate Thanksgiving with both sides of the family. Sunday I have to write a ten-page paper about Forest Lake Christian Church (where I interned two summers ago), and Monday it all starts over again. I'm hoping it will be a good week.

Weigh-In #4: Three Weeks, Five Days

So apparently, when it comes to figuring out dates and weeks and months and years, I suck. On the last update I said that we were starting the fourth week, but that was wrong. We were still in the third week of the weight loss journey. I redid all the math just a few moments ago, and today we are on the seventh day of the third week (so almost four weeks). The last update was titled "Four Weeks" which implied that we were four weeks in; what it means is that we were starting our fourth week. So from now on, as you can see above, the weigh-ins will be titled according to the week we are in followed by the day within that week (so the last update would have been three weeks, one day, or something like that; and today is three weeks, six days). Anyways.

The journey continues! Last weigh-in (about a week ago) I was at 179. I'm at 178 right now. Only one pound lost. It's not surprising. I didn't eat very well due to several parties I went to and a wedding. Both Sarah and I are being really strict this week. Even though I didn't eat strict last week, I didn't eat bad (only around 2000-2500 calories a day), and I continued working out with strength training. Because I was sick with an awful swollen throat, I didn't do any cardio; but now the sickness is gone, and I've done cardio for the last three days in addition to strength training. The results are not as candid as they have been, but I've gotten lots of compliments from friends at work and school. Apparently the weight loss has gotten to the point where people are noticing, which is exciting.

So I'm at 178, eating vegetables and fruit and whole grains and lean meats and lots of water. I'm doing cardio for twenty minutes a day now, and strength training for about an hour. My strength training includes working out every muscle group in my body. I start with the chest and arms, move onto the abs (upper, lower, sides), and then work down into the upper and lower legs. I also exercise the back and work on strengthening my core through pilates (though I have been slacking here lately). I'll update again next week, either on Wednesday or Thursday. Weekly updates from now on, not these wildly interspersed ones. Anyways. Today is a special day. Not only do you have a picture of me from last week and a picture taken literally ten minutes ago, but you also get to see a picture of my goal from when I was at my goal weight originally! Here we go (most recent picture is the second one):



All right. And here is a picture of my goal weight (around 140 pounds):

a new novella

After Sarah left following breakfast this morning (eggs and toast, though I had oatmeal), I fixed coffee and sat down at my laptop and began writing. I finished a short story, and then I decided to expand that short story into a 150-page novella, and I hammered out eighteen pages. It is called "A Dream For Us", and it is the story of a boy and his struggles through the nightmarish wasteland and corpse-laden trenches of love, and it becomes a sort of nihilistic and hopeless manifesto before being totally blown apart in a way the protagonist does not expect. In the writing of this story, I am drawing from experiences in my own life (past, present, and perhaps future) and applying them to a fictional character. In most stories of this type that I have read, the protagonist is "Good" whereas the antagonist(s) are "Evil." This stark contrast between the antagonist and protagonist is ridiculous, because even the best men have their darkest secrets. The protagonist in this story is both noble and corrupt and both pitied and despised. It's somewhat similar to my last novel, where the protagonist is initially portrayed as this noble, wonderful man, but as the story progresses, you come to find that he's actually a selfish bastard--and yet you still cheer for him and hope for him and sympathize with him. It's quite fun to write. It's the nature of humanity, though; my characters are not cardboard cut-outs but rather are filled with all sorts of goodness and wickedness mottled together in a paradoxical balance; and in this way it is a reflection of the true nature of man.

that novel i've been working on

Another week begins. Do I have high expectations for this week? No, not really. Today I'm going to Alms Park with Sarah, and then I may go to Dayton to meet up with some old friends for dinner and conversation at Denny's. Not sure yet. If I end up staying home, I'll probably try to do some writing on that novel I've been contemplating. It's sad how often I start novels and then end them. Oh well. When I DO finish something, it's quite an achievement (last novel was 740 pages). All this talk about writing a novel reminds me of a great clip from "Family Guy."

the lehman house [29]

Monday. I worked 9:30-1:00 with Rob, Nate, and Matt. Julie B. told me, “I can really tell you’re losing weight!” When Sarah got home we went to Alms Park and took pictures. I was able to do a pull up, and easily! I headed up to Dayton to hang out with Blake, Amos, and Brandy Rae at Denny’s and then back at her place in Fairborn. We played a game that involved miniature trains and pretty much just laughed our asses off.

Tuesday. During breakfast Sarah said, “I’m jealous of Amanda. She always has guys pining all over her. That doesn’t happen to me.” I just shrugged. She wants boys to pine, but not boys like me. She said so to herself, and Ams told me. After classes I hung out with Jessie for a bit, Sarah went to see a show at the Aronoff with her mom (who loves me, by the way), and I went to the Hilltop to study. When Sarah and her mom returned, her mom saw a picture I had on the fridge, a poster detailing Sarah’s drunken phases. That made her a little upset, but we explained it as a joke.

Wednesday. I worked 9:30-1:00 and after classes Jobst came by for a bit. Sarah came home and we went to Kroger, and it was pouring rain, and she demanded I wait in the dryness as she got her car. We worked out and fixed dinner and she showered and came out and looked stunning with her wet hair draped over her shoulders.

Thursday. I’ve lost seventeen pounds since I started eating right and working out, and that’s just one month! I got depressed over not being with Sarah and skipped out on classes. Sarah commented on how sad she is that she has nothing to look forward to, and that made me sad, because I want her to look forward to us and to what we can be.

Friday. Sarah was in a good mood this morning, laughing and joking, different from her usual morning-weary self. I went to the Newport Aquarium and bought tickets for a surprise for Sarah. Nate called: he and Kirby got engaged. Sarah came home, and we got Panera Bread for dinner and then watched multiple episodes of “Gilmore Girls” in the basement. Ams came home and I got sad and went for a drive to Indiana and back. Sarah could tell I was upset. “I wish I liked you,” she said. “I would love to like you. But I can’t force it.” She just told me to keep being myself, not to get weird. And who am I? Just a pathetic boy who isn’t good enough “as I am” for her. Ams told me, “Don’t ever bring up you liking her. She told you how she feels. She won’t changed her mind.” My life has been marked by two things; no, three: depression, regret, and disappointment. Sadness consumes me. Regret for my foolishness plagues me. And disappointment bitch-slaps me across the face again and again. Julie: a disappointment. Courtney: a disappointment. Karen: a disappointment. And Sarah: a disappointment. Life teaches me not to hope, not to believe in fairytales. Where am I to go? To a God who ignores me, who seemingly has it out to get me? It’s nearly impossible to trust in God, to hope in God, when it seems he doesn’t give a damn and never will.

Saturday. I watched “Mars Attacks,” showered, and went to Thai Taste with Sa-Rah. I had a summer roll and it was phenomenal. I took her to Wal-Mart and then back to her dorm. I told Sarah before we went to the Aquarium, “I’ll tell you if I stop liking you, and it’d be cool if you told me if you start liking me or if you start liking someone else and want to date them. It’d suck, but it’d suck more to find out later down the road.” She’s cool with that. So we went to the Aquarium and she really liked it, and we ate at the Irish Pub for dinner. Her treat. She went to Catherine’s when we got home, and I played chess. Ams’ friend Roman, some Russian chap, came over, and when Sarah got home they watched “Twilight.”

Sunday. Sarah and I ate breakfast, and she went to her brother’s and I went to Vineyard Westside with Rob, Mandy, Nate and Kirby. The sermon was on Sex & Marriage. The speaker said, “I went through a divorce, womanized, repented, and God brought me a wife.” Hartman, Matt and Rachel joined all of us for lunch at Price Hill Chili. When Sarah returned from her brother’s, we joined Ams & Chris and saw the movie “New Moon.” Not a big fan. Neither was Chris. But Ams and Sarah loved it.

my weekend

Friday was a pretty good day. Work was filled with lots of laughter, and I got to work with Alli, whom I almost never work with. Jessie came over to do laundry, and then my friend Isaac swung by and we had good conversation with the last of the red wine from the fridge. Ams and I went to the Kenwood Mall, and we hooked up with Sarah, who bought a nice coat and a hat from Forever21, and then we went to Victoria's Secret where I got my men's cologne. Christian, Tiz, and Jessie met up with us at the mall, but I headed back down to the house to finish my classwork, and Sarah went to a bar in Clifton to hang out with some friends. I went to the Hilltop after finishing my classwork, and Gambill and I played three rounds of Koala Ping Pong followed by pool. Koala Ping Pong is essentially the same, except instead of playing across one table you play across TWO tables, shooting the ball between the tables. It's always good times filled with lots of laughter. We went to Chipotle (I didn't get anything), and then he and I went over to Rob and Mandy's to enjoy some time on the Wii.

Yesterday morning I made breakfast for Sarah (eggs and toast), and after she headed to work, I did pilates. Jessie came over to pick up her laundry, and I made her scrambled eggs with cheese and fixed her a cup of Venezuelan coffee. I went over to Mandy's, and we played Mario Cart on the Wii, and then I drove her to Tazza Mia, where her husband Rob works, dropped her off, got a delicious caffe caramel, and then ate lunch with Sarah at her work while filling out my application for Grad School. I had a Greek pizza, and she fixed herself a pepperoni pizza. I returned home and relaxed for a bit, and when Sarah got home we did a bunch of cleaning: she cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, and I cleaned the dining room and living room. I did a pretty intense workout--I've been sick for the past two weeks, an awful throat infection, and thus haven't been doing cardio, but I want to start up again this week, and today's workout was a good re:introduction--and then Sarah headed north to her aunt and uncle's place in Wilmington (her cousin Luke was in a play, her aunt was having a massage fundraiser at the house, and her little cousin Becca was having a sleepover and Sarah was monitoring). Later in the evening Blake and Amos came over, and we took awkward pictures and played "The Office: Trivia" and fixed oriental chicken rollups. They left, and before bed Mandy asked if I had a voice recorder for an interview of a Buddhist man tomorrow, so I ran it over to her house. Sarah called in Wilmington and she told me all about the play and we talked for a while, and then I finally passed out.

I was going to go to Dayton today to deliver some paperwork to a friend for my application to CBS, but I set my alarm to PM instead of AM and woke up way too late. I fixed an egg burrito for breakfast, worked out, and now I'm sitting here on my laptop. I don't have any real plans for the day (except to clean my room), but I hope to hang out with my Thai friend Sa-Rah sometime this afternoon. When Sarah gets back tonight, we're going to rent a movie and watch it and just relax. A pretty good weekend, for sure.

returning to my roots

Regarding Sarah, I won't write much anymore. I've decided to do this because the past two weeks have been proliferated with rants and ravings regarding this, and I don't want to beat a dead horse. I like her. She doesn't like me. We'd be great together in so many ways--but chemistry is not something you force. While it will undoubtedly suck if she ends up dating another toolbag, that's not my responsibility. I threw out the opportunity, she rejected it. End of story. Unless her heart turns towards me, the end result is this: I lose my feelings for her, I fall for another girl, I offer her the same opportunity. She will either embrace it or reject it (either initially or over the course of time); if rejection is experienced, then the cycle will continue, hopefully to be puncuated at last by a fortunate twist of fortune. As of right now, I still like Sarah; I still imagine what it would be like to be with her, and it makes me sad. She's a great and wonderful girl, and I wish she were mine. But I'm not going to pine after her, I'm not going to grovel at her feet. If she won't take what I'm offering, there's no guilt on my platter. Maybe she'll regret it. Maybe she won't. It doesn't matter. My life continues. Just as it continued after all the girls I've dated (Sonja, Julie, Jessica, Courtney, Karen, Genna), and just as it continued after all the girls I fell for and who rejected my offer (Kristen, Ashley, Monica, Mandy, and now Sarah), life goes on. I'll get over Sarah. I'll spend some time in limbo. Then I'll fall for someone else. Now, if Sarah falls for me and I still like her, then great; but it would suck if she fell for me and by that time I didn't want to be with her (this happened to my little sister and her friend Nathan; it sucked for both of them). The point of all this is: life goes on, and I will go on. I wasted two months pining after her, and she didn't even realize it. I will waste no more.

Gambill and I stood in the line at Chipotle, and I told him, "I really like Sarah. I haven't liked someone this much since Courtney. But she doesn't like me back. And part of me wants to keep hoping and hoping that if I surround her with myself, if I show her blatantly what we could be, that her heart would turn towards me. But another part of me realizes this is stupid, because I've done it again and again with different girls and just ended up hurt. So I'm going to give up on her. I'm not giving up on hope, just giving up on her. I still like her, and I'm sure I will for quite some time, especially since I'm living with her. And while I'm giving up on Sarah, I'm not giving up on hope. I'm placing my hope in God. If He wants me to be with Sarah, then it will happen--I pray His will be done. If He doesn't want me to be with Sarah, then it won't happen--I pray His will be done. In the end, I just have to trust in a God who loves me, cares for me, and who wants the best for me. I'll put my hope in Him even when it feels as if He has abandoned me."

This abandonment of hope over Sarah has not been painful. In fact, it has been liberating. I feel as if I have been liberated from a fruitless hope and redeemed unto a faithful hope: from hope in a certain scenario that may or may not come to pass to a hope in a living, breathing, active God who is actively involved in my life and working behind-the-scenes in incomperable ways. I am falling asleep peacefully at night once again, and I feel a new strength and vigor running through my veins. This is a hope that is placed in something sure; a hope placed in God will not, ultimately, disappoint, even when life is Hell and existence is an ongoing nightmare. Rob once told me, "You're the most optimistic person I know." Perhaps I am returning to my roots?

be careful where you place your hope

I have decided what is the next step in this whole ordeal of liking this girl who doesn't like me back. I had initially made the decision a tug-of-war with the pros and cons each of either giving up hope in being with her or keeping hope, continuing to try to win her and woo her and make her see what we can be. Neither option seemed to give much promise, and as I did much thinking (and praying), I came to a third option: keep hoping and give up hope. Paradoxical? It seems that way at first, so let me explain.

I know that one of my God-ordained purposes in this life is to be a good husband. And when I say "good", I don't mean "mediocre," "average," "pretty good"; I mean "freaking spectacular." Over the last several years, through the course of life and the trials of suffering and the failed relationships, God has continuously been at work, molding and shaping me into the person I need to be in order to engage this purpose. I look back and I see how even the worst experiences shaped me to be more loving, serving, and sacrificial. I see how in every relationship I learned something vital. All this suffering is not God spiting me but God preparing me; it is not God saying, "I won't give you what you want," but, "I'm making you into the kind of person who can have what you want and live in such a manner that you don't spoil it." You may be asking, "How do you know it's one of your purposes?" A lot of people think their purpose in life is governed by their desires; thus because I desire to be a good husband, then it is my purpose. I'm not sure how I feel about that. The reason I know it is a purpose of mine is, because, quite frankly, God told me.

When it comes to God speaking to His children, there are two camps. The first camp says that God does it all the time, through signs and a still small voice and even through fortune cookies. The other camp says that God speaks only through the scriptures. I fall somewhere in the middle. I don't pray for signs, because generally that is a self-fulfilling prayer (if you want a sign, you will find one). Generally when looking for the will of God, I search the scriptures. Yet on December 15 of 2005, something extraordinary happened. I was miserable for a lot of reasons, and I was knee-deep in prayer, and as I was praying, God spoke to me in an audible yet inaudible voice; I remember hearing it and my heart stopping and the world slowing, and I remember just kneeling before my bed staring forward with wide eyes thinking, "Holy crap, God just spoke to me." A wave of peace washed over me, and I praised Him that day. Some would tell me that this was just something of my imagination, or too much pizza the night before, but those people weren't there. They didn't experience what I experienced. Here is what God told me:

I have given you these desires [to be a good husband] and for a reason. There is a girl, one of My children, who is hurting and aching. She desires true love and fears she will never find it. I have chosen you to be Me to her--to love her with a selfless, serving, and sacrificial love. I have a beautiful plan for you and for her. She will bring comfort and completion to your heart, and you will deliver comfort and completion to hers.

I must admit that I find the concept of God having a "special someone" for everyone absolutely ridiculous. A simple observation of families without and even within the church will show this idea to be far-fetched, born out of fantasy. Yet the biblical narrative shows that sometimes God DOES choose spouses for His people (i.e. Isaac and Hosea), and I believe that for me, God has someone special out there. Those who know me most, if they read this, will no doubt be floored: "He actually BELIEVES that?!" But I cannot erase what God said to me, and I won't try to explain it. I've tried to explain it away because it makes me uncomfortable, but I can't. I was there. I know what it was like. It wasn't my imagination.

Now how does this go back to the path I'm taking in regards to the girl I like? Simple: I am embracing hope and giving up hope. It isn't paradoxical, because the object in which hope is placed is different for both. I am embracing hope in God, and I am giving up hope in being with Sarah. Don't get me wrong, I still really, really like Sarah, and I wish we were together, and it makes me sad thinking about how we're not; but if God has someone certain for me, and that person is not Sarah, then I will not end up with Sarah. If it IS Sarah, then Sarah and I will end up together. Ultimately, my hope is placed in God: a hope that He will fulfill His promise to me, a hope that He will be faithful to His words in 2005 (nearly four years ago!). If Sarah's heart turns towards me, then great. If not, then that's okay, too. She may fit the bill for the kind of girl I am to be with, but if she's not the one God has in mind, then it won't work out. So I will place my hope in God and let the cards fall where they will.

of goats and carmen electra

Today should be a good day. I have class at 12:30, then class at 2:30, and after that I'm working on some Hebrew verbs. My friend Amos may be coming over tonight for dinner, which will be exciting. Tomorrow I work 9:30-1:00, and then Sarah and I are going to Alms Park and then going shopping for coats. I have a goat (I meant coat, then realized I misspelled it, and then I realized I like saying that I have a goat more than I like saying I have a coat), but it is frayed and burnt in some places (long story) (and it bleats a lot). We're also going to Victoria Secret, because there's a cologne there that I use and I'm almost out. Yes, it is a men's perfume. Just because I work out to Carmen Electra's "Strip-Tease" doesn't mean I am feminine in every arena of my life. Saturday is an open book, but I may see a movie with some friends, or I may go up to Dayton and visit the family, spend the night there and go back to my home church--Southwest--on Sunday morning. My life is pretty unexciting, so I'm trying to find ways of making it exciting. Yesterday, for example, I went to Devou Park across the river and took some pictures of the city from the overlook gazebo. Here is one of them:

I have been itching to write. I've finished "Dwellers of the Night" and it's done really well, gotten lots of reviews, but I want to try my hand at a different kind of story, a short 150-page tear-jerker, and I've been experimenting with different writing styles to try and achieve this. Right now I'm experimenting with the style of Hubert Selby, Jr. (he wrote the novel "Requiem for a Dream"). I want it to be about the pain of loving and not being loved back, of the frailty and mockery of romance, of the emptiness of dreams. It is quite depressing, but I need only look at my past journals to receive inspiration.

Having talked with the girl, having told her that I liked her, I continue unsure of what to do next. I am toying with two different options, but I'm leaning towards one in particular following conversations with a few select friends and with my beloved little sister. I am glad I told her, because I've gotten it off my chest; a new phase in my life has been initiated, though the direction this phase shall take is unknown. I'll tell you what, though: I'm really glad that I told her, because she deserves to know that she can be loved and appreciated. Everyone struggles with self-esteem issues, and she is not excluded from this. I hope that if she takes anything from this it is the knowledge that she is of great worth and great value, that she's a great girl, and she shouldn't settle for less than what she deserves; and she deserves the best!

Weigh-In #3: 4 Weeks

We're starting the fourth week of the weight loss ordeal, and the pics below are of me from the weigh-in last week and the weigh-in this week. There's only minimal differences, but I've lost another seven pounds (down from 186 to 179). This is, of course, thanks to two things: EATING RIGHT and EXERCISE. I'm not on any fad diet, I'm just following the health food pyramid: fruits, veggies, whole grains, lean meats, and non-fat dairy. And I exercise three times a day (usually strength-training, but in a week or two I'll begin the cardio). My goal is 142 pounds; I've lost a total 15 pounds, and I have 37 pounds to go! Though honestly this is not so much about weight loss as it is getting into shape, beating my body into submission so I can be healthier. The pic on the bottom is the one from yesterday morning.

next step? who knows?

The conversation went well. She said, "I've thought about what it'd be like to date you, and I know we'd be great together, and I know you're a good guy, but I just don't share feelings for you." I was blown away by the fact that she'd considered the possibility of dating me, and it was good to know that her not having feelings for me was not calling into question who I am as a person. The rest of the night was spent with laughter and conversation diffusing the awkwardness, and the drive back was pleasant as well (lots of times those drives can be straining). It was hilarious that when we left the cafe, she got a fortune cookie that said, "An opportunity is knocking at your door." That cracked us both up.

So. I have feelings for her, she doesn't have feelings for me. What to do? There are two options. Either I can continue being myself and trying to win her heart, or I can do what must be done to erase all feelings for her. Either option is hard. Gambill told me, "If you could see the two of you going long-term if you dated, then I say maybe keep trying." I asked what he meant, and he said, "Do you think you could marry this girl? Date with intent." I have known this girl for several years, and I know that if we got married, it would probably work out. So right now I'm leaning towards keeping doing what I'm doing, though my other friend says I should do the opposite: I should do what must be done to stop liking her, or I'll just be torturing myself day-in and day-out.

I just keep thinking about how great it would be to be with her--she's an amazing and beautiful girl--and I know that we'd be a cute couple and that we'd work out well. It just sucks that she doesn't like me back. Why must it be so complicated? If she liked me back, then... Wow. I wouldn't even know what to do. Life would be so great. But life doesn't work that way. So either I must hold onto hope or give up hope. Ultimately, that's what life is about: holding onto hope or giving it up. I've held onto hope for so many things that never came to pass, and I've given up often and come to discover that it's just as empty as hoping. So I don't know what to do.

here we go again...

Today is the day that I confess my feelings for one of my friends. It will surely be an experience to remember. Mandy H. helped me figure out how to say what I want to say, and she seems pretty confident that I can say it well. I'm pretty sure the girl I'm talking to has no idea that I have feelings for her, though having talked to a select few friends about this, they seem to think that she should at least have a clue. I've been dropping hints right and left, and, in the words of Julie, "She'd have to be dumb not to suspect something." Mandy K. agreed. But who knows? Once you enter that awful "friend zone," you interpret things differently. Maybe she's interpreted all of my clues as me simply being nice and gentlemanly? It doesn't matter at this point. In about an hour, the bomb will be dropped, and I pray to God that I will not be left alone just to scavenge the pieces. Our friendship means so much to me, and I wish there was a way I could get through this without having to risk the friendship, but sometimes risk is the only option. I once said, back in 2006, "If we let risk dictate our lives, then we risk missing out on something beautiful. Either decision I make is risking something: risking a friendship or risking something more. You won't know what it is you've risked until that time comes, and it's only in hindsight that we can make decisions free from the murkiness of the present." By this time tomorrow, I will know the extent of the damage. In my deepest heart, I hope that the damage is nothing, that she likes me back; but there is no logical reason to suspect this, and so I am forced to face reality and just long for minimal damage: that the friendship won't be ruined.

the lehman house [28]

Highlands Cafe in Clifton

Monday. Last night Sarah and I were talking, and I said, “I wonder what it’d be like if we’d dated and gotten married.” She said, “Probably the same as now, except we’d be having sex.” I didn’t fix breakfast for Sarah this morning, trying to distance myself for the inevitable crash & burn. I’ve decided to tell Sarah how I feel, and I pray that it’ll go well, that she’ll like me back or, at the least, my confession won’t ruin our friendship. I told Mandy about the things Sarah sometimes does, the flirty things. For instance, tonight she came out of the shower wrapped in her towel, and she rubbed against me and giggled before hurrying downstairs. “If she doesn’t like you,” Mandy said, “then she’s sending some pretty fucked up messages.”

Tuesday. Sarah and I went to Highlands Café in Clifton, and I broke the news. She said, “I’ve thought about what it’d be like to date you, and I know it’d be great. We have fun, we get along, we have the same sense of humor. But right now I don’t feel the same way you do.” We had good conversation and lots of laughs over the rest of dinner. She said she’s wanted to kiss me several times, and it meant a lot to her that I didn’t take advantage of her when I could’ve so many times. She doesn’t want to lose the friendship, and that’s what frightened me the most. “I’m glad we talked,” she said. “I feel closer to you now, I really do.” We got fortune cookies, and her fortune read Opportunity is Knocking at Your Door. When we got home we watched a show on an alien invasion (it’s called V but I call it “five”). Mom and Dad dropped off Ams’ car, and Sarah and I had some of their 25^th anniversary cake. Delicious. Ams came home, and she said, “Sarah said it was a bit awkward, but not too bad.”

Wednesday. I went to bed feeling sad. It seems as if my life is one giant replay except with different supporting characters. Once more I’ve fallen for a girl who doesn’t like me back. What hurts the most is that she knows we’d be great together, but she won’t have it. So what now? There are two options, two roads I can take. First, I can hope and pray that God will turn her heart towards me. But I’ve done that for the last two months, and per usual the prayer’s gone unanswered. Does God not see how great we would be? Does God not want us to experience it? Does he care? Or is he simply not there? No, I know he’s there. His existence has never been in question; what’s in question is the nature of his disposition towards me. No, I know he cares; but it’s so damned hard to obey when every sign is that he’s turned his back on you. Route 2 is MOVE ON. Distance myself from her. Make new friends. I don’t know. I was in a sour mood all day. Nate embarrassed both me and Ashley M. by saying we should date. I went to a park in Covington to take pictures, then joined Mandy for a trip to the store to get new pants. I got really depressed late in the evening and went on a drive through the night-swept Cincinnati, these words replaying over and over in my mind: God has abandoned you.

Thursday. I wept and wept last night. Ams came into my room and gave me a hug. As I cried, I prayed that God would at least comfort me, and at that moment the tears stopped and a wave of peace came over me. I scraped the ice off Sarah’s car for her so she wouldn’t have to do it. Why am I still doing these things? I went to the Hilltop for a tasty latte. Ams told me I have to give up hope of being with Sarah. She doesn’t like me like that, and she’s pretty sure she never will. “Her thinking about what it’d be like to date you were just passing thoughts, and she only wanted to kiss you because you were there and she was horny.” Sarah went to a bible study in Mason with her friend Justin, then out to eat with him and a girl he likes. I spent the evening home alone. Jessie came over a bit, and we hung out and ate dinner and she wept over losing friendships. Sarah came home and she walked around half-naked and it was suffocating to see her beauty, beauty I can’t experience for myself.

Friday. “Don’t think that you won’t be a good husband or a good father because of your depression,” Ams told me. “When you love your wife, you’ll be happy, just like you were with Courtney and how you’d be with Sarah. And when you hold your newborn children, you’ll be happy, too.” She’s right. I had work and class, and then Jessie came over to do laundry. Isaac came by, and we talked over glasses of red wine. Ams and I met up with Sarah at the Kenwood Mall. She got a cute coat and a hat from Forever 21, and I got some men’s cologne. Chris, Tiz and Jessie showed up, but Sarah and I left. She went to a bar to hang out with David—the guy she told me she has no attraction to but was flirting with hardcore but on the night of my dumpster diving—and I went to the Hilltop to try and get my mind off images of Sarah and David crawling all over one another. Gambill and I played Super Ping Pong and then we got Chipotle and visited Rob & Mandy at their apartment. I kept glancing about the apartment, wondering what it’d be like to be married to Sarah, for us to have our own place.

Saturday. Jessie came over to do some more laundry, and I fixed her eggs and coffee. I went over to Rob & Mandy’s to play Mario Kart, and then I took Mandy to Tazza Mia and got an iced café caramel. I ate lunch with Sarah at Tri-Health, and when she got home we cleaned the house. She was walking around in really short shorts, and her beautiful legs were showing, and I told her, “Your legs look really good, like really toned up, definitely a big difference from when we started.” She smiled really big. Ams went to Chris’ and Sarah went to Wilmington, and Blake & Amos came over. We played Office Trivia, took pictures of me crawling into coffee bags from the Hilltop, and ate chicken rollups for dinner. They left around 11:00 and I ran my voice recorded to Mandy for her interview with a Buddhist tomorrow. Sarah called me from Wilmington and we talked for a while. She refuses to believe she’s beautiful, which I don’t understand.

Sunday. I spent the day watching “Gilmore Girls” at the house before heading to the Hilltop to hang out with Sa-Rah and to play Super Ping Pong with Gambill. When Sarah got back we watched “The Ugly Truth,” and she kept making comments about how great it’d be to date someone like Gerard Butler. I got really sad and went for a drive down Route 50 past the stadiums and through Eden Park and back. Gambill told me earlier today, “I’d tell you not to waste your time on a girl like Sarah, but we both know it wouldn’t do any good. You bring so much to the table. We all have things that detract us from our prospects, but your negatives are slim. You’re a handsome dude. Just because one girl doesn’t think so doesn’t take away from who you are en totale.” Gambill is a good friend, even if he’s a jackass sometimes.

shooting myself in the foot

In the spring of this year, I fell for a wonderful girl who graduated from CCU in May. I still consider her a good friend, though I haven't talked to her for some time. Last night I dreamed that we were dating, and it was a weird dream, but at least it wasn't scary (Sarah had a horrible dream last night, but she left for work before I could find out what it was about). I want to start keeping a dream journal; sometimes I write down my dreams in my journal, but I'd like to have a journal just for dreams, because I have multiple dreams a night and usually remember them.

I wrote on here several weeks ago, on October 20, that I have fallen for a girl where nothing can happen because of several reasons. First, the "Friend Zone" has been initiated (something I've never totally understood); and Second, because of the circumstances regarding our friendship, I'm unable to say anything. Gambill had told me, "You're just torturing yourself, Dude," and he's right. On Saturday night, I realized that if I do not nip this in the butt, then it will just cause me all sorts of additional pain, pain that I really don't need nor want right now. Gambill and I talked for a while about it; Amanda and I talked for a while about it; Mandy and I talked for a while about it. I was torn between two different routes I could take: confessing my feelings and risking the friendship, or just distancing myself from her in order to get over liking her. I decided to do both. First, I'll tell her how I feel. I know she doesn't feel the same way--at least I suspect that--but by telling her I will get to hear it from her, which will make it easier for me to get over her, and then she'll at least know why I've been distancing myself, which leads to step number two: distancing myself from her. She's a great friend, and this sucks, because you can't control who you're attracted to, and you can't control whom you do or do not have chemistry with. Let's just say it's a pretty shitty situation, but at least I have mass experience in this area (though it doesn't make it easier nor the outcomes any better).

rethinking

I have always wrestled with the concept that I am not good enough, and I've wrestled with it in every arena of my life. Not good enough for God, not good enough for ministry, not good enough to be someone's best friend, and most commonly, not good enough to be with a great girl. There are all sorts of reasons why a person may feel this way, and I think this stems from a certain life experience repeated again and again in my junior high and high school years. I used to weigh 210 pounds (180 now), I was scarred with acne, and I was awkward (still have mild acne, and I'm still incredibly awkward). In junior high, the girls in the youth group would joke around about dating me and then pretend they were vomiting in their mouths. In high school, I liked a girl named Kristen, and I asked her out, and she said she would date me but only if it was in secret and only if I lost weight and cleared up my face (I didn't go for the idea). These are just two samples of a plethora of experiences that shaped me into a person encumbered by the belief that, for some reason or another--be it my physique, or my personality, etc.--I am not good enough for a girl. In college I dated several girls: Sonja, Julie, Jessica, Courtney, etc. None of the relationships worked out. I was cheated on by some, back-stabbed by others; I am still friends with Jessica, and that breakup was one of necessity. While things got better in college, the feeling of not being good enough still hung over me as a pallor, and when a relationship failed, or when a girlfriend cheated on me, I looked inwards: "What is it about me that makes me a horrible boyfriend?" Truth be told, all my girlfriends except for two have told me I am an amazing guy and an amazing boyfriend after we broke up; and though the breakups happened for other reasons, I still painted them out in my head to be due to some sort of deficiency in myself.

Last night Sarah and I were talking before bed, and she told me that I'm a good guy and that I'm attractive. She said that when people "click," it's not just about being physically attracted to one another or dating because you realize the other person is a good person and would be a good significant other, a good spouse, a good parent. It's about chemistry--"Some people have it, some people don't." Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about that. I think it's pretty simple: we're attracted to people because they have something we want. I almost feel as if "chemistry" is a cop-out idea; if someone likes you, and you don't like them back, then you blame it on the "chemistry" and not on the person. But I think that if the person had what you want--physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, etc.--then you would be attracted to that person. And you'll say, "No, that's not true--I've known lots of great people I haven't wanted to date." And I'll reply with, "Yes, they were great--but they were not adequate."

I don't think it's about being good enough or not good enough but, rather, whether you are adequate or inadequate. When we make the issue about being "good enough," it boils down to some sort of deficiency in who we are. We don't have what the other person wants. We don't have what it takes. There's something about us that makes the other person look at us and say, "I don't want to be with this person." I think that thinking is wrong, though, because, as I said, it implies a deficiency in the rejected person. It implies that something is missing, that there's something critical the person doesn't have, something that the person needs. Ultimately, I think it comes down to whether or not a person is adequate enough for you. We all have things we want in another person: a certain physique, a type of humor, a certain personality. When the other person meets all of the requirements but one, and when that missing requirement is held as critically important in the mind of the person being approached, then the person doing the approaching will be dismissed. It isn't because the person approaching isn't good enough; it's because, though they may be fantastic, they just don't have what the other person requires and is thus inadequate.

In fear of making this sound like some sort of semantics, replacing the common "good enough" "not good enough" lingo with "adequate" "inadequate," I want to try to do my best to make the difference clear. With the first one, it becomes a matter of the person doing the approaching. When rejection takes place, the fault lies with the person approaching: they're "not good enough." With the other way of looking at things, when rejection takes place, the fault lies with the person being approached: they have a stringent list of demands, and when the other person--who may be great and wonderful and fantastic--is rejected, it isn't because he or she isn't "good enough" but because he or she is "inadequate", unable to live up to the other person's demands.

Thus when I look at my own life, the failed relationships and the countless rejections, I ought not see that I am "not good enough" but that I didn't live up to the demands of the other people; they wanted things I couldn't offer, but my inability to offer them does not negate me being a good person. Sarah has the whole concept of it being about "chemistry", which is shady to me because she can't even explain it, it's something that she just expects and allows to guide her relationships, and it's shady because you can have this "chemistry" with a total asshole and think that it's okay, when really you're just shooting yourself in the foot. My scheme of looking at things, I think, is better. Let's say I told Sarah, "Hey, I like you, let's date," and if she didn't like me back, she'd say there's no chemistry. But if she held to my view of things, she'd say, "No, that's okay," and it would be because I failed in who I am to live up to what she wants--not because I'm not good enough, but because I'm inadequate for her.

I don't know if any of that made sense. Congratulations if you read all the way through.