June 2002

June 17
It's been a long time since I wrote. I would offer apologies, but since this is being written before the website's actually up, you will not have experienced a hiatus at all. So postmodern of me.

Since my last post, we may have found a free or semi-free source for a new computer hard drive and also this website. Which is good because we've been as broke as I never hope to be again. I mean, going-through-the-laundry-change-for-grocery-money broke. College student broke. Man I hate that.

Matt has shaved off his beard, making him a mustache-only man. It gives him a snazzy, Clark-Gable kinda look that I dig. His chin is so cute! Like a new friend. I like mustaches on men. Maybe because Dad almost always had one. Like a lot of men, he looked kinda...wrong...without it. At least to me. Like these guys, he was one of...

The Better When Bearded Club

Jonathan Frakes!

That is incorrect, Number One	Better. But why do you still walk sideways?	Chicks still dig me more, human!

Michael Gross, the Family Ties dad!

This is why Alex's a Republican!	Tina Yothers is proud to be your fictional daughter now!

George Clooney!

Paging Dr. Ross: You look stupid!	Rrar! C'mere, you big singing hick stud!

Sometimes, I enjoy this site a little too much.

As soon as I wrote this, Matt decided he didn't like the mustache-no-beard. The beard returned. But this now-pointless entry stays anyway.

June 18
If you see a beggar coming your way and you move to avoid him, is that bad karma or good judgement? I never give to beggars. I don't know if that's right or wrong...I feel bad whether I give or not. If someone's truly needy, what I can afford to give, if anything, won't get anyone very far. And if the guy's a scam artist, then I supported his scam. And I have no way of knowing which is true, anyway.

There's some smooth operators out there, amongst the truly desperate. I wish we could make begging and homelessness illegal, not by throwing the homeless into jail, but by providing everyone with enough. So that there was no need for it,and no need to wonder if you should give. Which is probably lazy and short-sighted of me...I mean, what a scam it would be if you didn't even have to beg, just have the government support you.

That's where most people get off the socialist train, because we know enough of human nature to know somebody, somewhere, is going to do just that. Probably a lot of them, actually. But still, there's no excuse for the mentally ill to be on the streets. None. Zip. If a person is out of their friggin' minds, put 'em somewhere they can be cared for. Not jail, either, a treatment facility. I'd gladly pay for that just to feel safer, reducing my chances of walking past a guy having a schizophrenic episode that makes me look like something he should kill.

Funnily enough, I haven't seen as many obviously mentally ill homeless here, mostly just sane-seeming panhandlers. But that's just my experience. That's all I got today folks. Send your hatemail here.

June 21
I have an interview today. My first real one here. I am a little freaked out by it, actually. I'm afraid I'll be so desperate that I'll take anything they offer. (Meaning I am conceited enough to assume they'll offer). But I don't want to take another crappy job, dangit, so I'm trying to steel myself against that.

Is it confidence I want to feel, or arrogance? I don't guess it matters, if it does the job. I'm certainly experienced enough to do it.

(later)

Whew. OK, I didn't get it, I could tell, though they didn't say so explicitly. Not a good fit, plus I want too much cash.

But I feel...really good, actually. Because, I am on a mental high...I know, without a doubt, that I can get a job that I actually want. That that is what I'm supposed to do. That I am strong enough not to say what they want me to say to get a crappy one.

I needed to know that. I guess it's weird that I learned it from an unsucessful interview. But I just feel proud of myself, I guess, for not groveling, not playing dumb, not saying what they wanted to hear. For having some ovaries.

I have a new plan, for getting the job I really want. Basically involves narrowing down my resume to only relevant stuff, only contacting book publishers, and not caring that the people around me want me to be cautious. Cautious has taken me as far as it can. I don't need to "gather varied experience" any more. I need to be an editor. It's who I am, at least the day-job part. And I'm not giving up until I get it.

June 27

Oh boy. Dig that crazy mullet on me. I don't know about that shirt, either.

Dear 14-Year-Old Me,

I wish you could see this picture the way that I do. I know that you really, truly believe you are fat and ugly when you look at it.

After all, all the girls who write to Seventeen weigh less than 100 pounds, and you weigh about 130. They wear size 3's, and you wear an 11 or 10. You think that makes you huge, a giant freakish non-girlish thing.

But look at you, so skinny! A stick! Too bony, actually. That 130 pounds barely covers you. And why? You're 5'6". You've got a chest, hips, a derriere. All of which are totally normal. You are as normal, even pretty, as a girl your age should be. And it breaks my heart to know that you will spend years hating your body, and hiding it. Never daring to flirt with boys, to realize that you actually have nice features, decent hair, green eyes that look good with dark eyeliner.

You don't believe in any of that, because no boys are asking you out. You assume that means you're hideous. What it really means is:

1. They are little creeps at this age. They do get better.
2. Most of the ones you know are rednecks and dumb as a post.They cannot handle your brain, it makes them feel inferior.
3. The others, the nice ones, are just as confused, shy, and certain of their unworthiness as you are.They're afraid to ask you out.

I'm sorry that your folks don't always know how to help you with this, and sometimes push you to change yourself rather than accept yourself. A lot of parents have trouble with that. They mean well. The thing is, even with all the crap you're going through, or because of it, you're going to turn out OK. You're going to learn to be a good person, to find people who love you as you are. You're going to figure out what makes you happy.

Your life will never be perfect, but it will be good. You will always remember being sad and lonely, and it will help you be more compassionate. You'll try to help others, which will work sometimes and sometimes not. And eventually, you'll even come to understand and love yourself.

From 17 years away, I send you love and strength. I'm proud of you, I just wanted you to know.

Sincerely, emjaybee