So earlier today I got an e-mail from one of my ex-girlfriends, a person who I was at one time very close to, and at this time, am very not. Nothing Earth-shattering there, it's the way of things, I guess. Though at one time I prided myself on my good relationships with my exes, that time has long past, and that's a weird thing to pride yourself on anyway. Hmm, perhaps that's another blog post in and of itself.
Anyway, I thought this an odd occurrence, the e-mail that is, because a) I haven't spoken to this girl (really) in years, and b) earlier in the day I was listening to the Billy Joel song "A New York State of Mind" which always makes me feel homesick, even if I'm in New York (a weird phenomenon, I know), but occasionally makes me think of this girl, for no particular reason at all, other than we both used to like Billy Joel.
Without getting too much into details, she was e-mailing me out of the blue because she saw something I mentioned online in regards to her, and thought I was taking a swipe at her. This wasn't the case, so it's unfortunate that she got worked up enough about it that she e-mailed me at work to let me know. But I just find it weird that she e-mailed me at all. I mean, after this amount of time, and what was said the last time we saw each other (more on that in a bit), I would think she could really care less, or at least she wouldn't be bothered to write. I mean, if she, or someone similar to that level of relationship with me, say a friend of mine whom I was close with in high school, but not really since, posted "Tom Cocozza is a retarded jerk-wad, and I hope he rots!" I'd probably be upset, but I likely wouldn't be motivated to get in touch with them and ask them why. And if I did, I likely wouldn't be all confrontational about it. But that's me, I guess.
I don't know what bothers me more, that in the middle of a stressful, busy workday (most of them are) I get an e-mail from someone who hasn't e-mailed me in years telling me to get bent, or the fact that that's the situation I find myself in with this person. I'd like to think the latter, because I like to think of myself as someone who's sentimental, and in touch with their emotions, a real hip, modern guy. More than likely though, it's the former, because I'm really just someone who hates getting all riled up, especially when I'm work. Personal matters are for personal time, and how am I supposed to deal with this stuff when I'm responsible for whatever work I'm supposed to be doing? That's what I want to know.
This is why I hate internet communication. You never have any idea of intent behind what is said, other than what you can read from context. The shorter the message, the more varied the context, and the more complex the thought, the more chance of it being interpreted different ways. This is why real things of import should be discussed face-to-face, or at least over the phone. And...end rant.
Oh, I guess I should mention what happened the last time I really saw this girl, as I alluded to it earlier, and while I understood the sentiment completely, and admired the forthrightness she had in saying it, it still kind of bummed me out for a while. I'm not sure when it was, I'm thinking a year or two ago, I was in Times Square, walking out of Toys 'R' Us, with a purchase for my nephew in a big bag, when literally, out of the blue, I run into this girl in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. This is always one of the more remarkable things about New York City to me, it's huge, with millions of millions of people, and you'll randomly run into someone you know at someplace neither of you knows the other will be. The odds have got to be astronomical, but it happens to me at least once a year.
Anyways, so we hug, and exchange small-talk pleasantries and the like, and since she's meeting her parents for dinner, and I have to get home and do my own things, we quickly part ways. I let her know that while we don't see each other anymore, if she ever wants to hang out, just let me know. We'll work something out. It's not just me, as she used to be friends with some of my friends as well, they'd like to see her too, and all. She responds to me thusly: that she's got her own life now, with her own things going on, and new friends and the like, and really doesn't think that will be happening. Okay. Like I said, got to admire the ability to be straightforward about it, but jeez. I mean, I was only saying what I was saying half out of being polite; it's what you say in situations like that. So I said okay, and went on my way. With the exception of some comments on each other's Facebook pages, that's been pretty much it until today.
Huh.
Ain't life a kick in the pants sometimes?
Still, it isn't all clouds and woe, not by a long shot. One, I got a nice blog entry out of it, so that's good. Two, my annoyance, while making it hard to focus at work, did help the afternoon move faster. Three, I feel I don't have enough chances for introspection, and while this isn't exactly what I would want to focus on, I can't look a gift horse in the mouth in that regard. To know yourself is to know the world, and often times I feel I don't know myself at all. So maybe this'll help in that regard.
Oh, and like Detective Columbo, one last thing. In case he happens to be reading this, "Jason Suslak is a retarded jerk-wad, and I hope he rots!"
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Weird dreams
For the last few days, I've been having odd, bizarre dreams. Last night was no different. Myself and a group of my friends (Michelle, Dan, Joe, and Brendan) were going to make a movie. This movie, while I'm a bit fuzzy on the plot, involved us live action filming animals, and then doing voice-overs for them. I think the animals were going to try and make a movie themselves, so it was a bit of meta-fiction. All the animals that were voiced by us had "opposite" personalities than the people voicing them, eg Brendan's goose was nice to everyone and was cleaning up after us all, Joe's chipmunk agreed with what everyone said, that sort of thing. Odd.
That's not the really weird part though, not that it gets surreal or anything. In coming up with a script, we decide that the film takes place near a coast, so we want to film in a coastal city, and not New York. Dan, for whatever reason, refuses to travel south, so I suggest we go out to Portland, mixing in a trip to see Devon. Hooray!
We take a train, to save money, and that part goes off without a hitch. As we're getting off the train, we meet Lou Cordani, who's surprised us by taking a plane out and meeting us. We all leave the train station and go to get on a bus, the only bus line there. We don't know where exactly we're going to film, but we decide we'll get on the bus, and get off when we see somewhere cool, then we'll call Devon and tell him to meet us there. Only a bus doesn't come. For like an hour. Then one bus comes, and drives right past us. We all freak out. By this time, there's other people waiting too. Another bus comes, and pulls up a block up the street, and a few people get on, I run after it, but it closes it's doors and pulls away, and I can't chase it down. There's a kid with a briefcase, he's the only one stuck with us waiting now. Everyone's getting antsy. Finally another bus is coming, I stand in the middle of the street to make sure it stops for us, and it does. I get on first, and push my way to the back, as a family of kids are just standing in the middle of the bus, oblivious to bus etiquette. I start yelling at them, and the bus driver tries to close the door on Michelle! I start seriously flipping out at this point, threatening violence. He opens the door, and everyone piles in on each other on the stairs of the bus, then get on and make their way to the back. And we have a surprise appearance, as Joe Jianetto has followed us out as a surprise, wearing an undershirt and a garish, too small, yellow and black checkered sportcoat. He and Lou start having a conversation about how Lou didn't bring boots, and that you should really have boots in this environment.
Then the dream ends and I wake up.
Now this is way too detailed, and complex, for me to believe that it means nothing. The only thing I've got is that J-Rod reminds me a lot of Kramer.
That's not the really weird part though, not that it gets surreal or anything. In coming up with a script, we decide that the film takes place near a coast, so we want to film in a coastal city, and not New York. Dan, for whatever reason, refuses to travel south, so I suggest we go out to Portland, mixing in a trip to see Devon. Hooray!
We take a train, to save money, and that part goes off without a hitch. As we're getting off the train, we meet Lou Cordani, who's surprised us by taking a plane out and meeting us. We all leave the train station and go to get on a bus, the only bus line there. We don't know where exactly we're going to film, but we decide we'll get on the bus, and get off when we see somewhere cool, then we'll call Devon and tell him to meet us there. Only a bus doesn't come. For like an hour. Then one bus comes, and drives right past us. We all freak out. By this time, there's other people waiting too. Another bus comes, and pulls up a block up the street, and a few people get on, I run after it, but it closes it's doors and pulls away, and I can't chase it down. There's a kid with a briefcase, he's the only one stuck with us waiting now. Everyone's getting antsy. Finally another bus is coming, I stand in the middle of the street to make sure it stops for us, and it does. I get on first, and push my way to the back, as a family of kids are just standing in the middle of the bus, oblivious to bus etiquette. I start yelling at them, and the bus driver tries to close the door on Michelle! I start seriously flipping out at this point, threatening violence. He opens the door, and everyone piles in on each other on the stairs of the bus, then get on and make their way to the back. And we have a surprise appearance, as Joe Jianetto has followed us out as a surprise, wearing an undershirt and a garish, too small, yellow and black checkered sportcoat. He and Lou start having a conversation about how Lou didn't bring boots, and that you should really have boots in this environment.
Then the dream ends and I wake up.
Now this is way too detailed, and complex, for me to believe that it means nothing. The only thing I've got is that J-Rod reminds me a lot of Kramer.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Post One - The Adventure Begins: Part One - The Beginning...
Okay, so I've been keeping a log on my laptop highlighting my thoughts on trying to lose weight, as I have made an oath to myself to lose about 30 pounds come my trip to DisneyWorld this August (August 15th, to be exact). Just something to help me keep focused, plus I thought it'd be interesting to look back on it once the job is done.
I'd figured I'd start this blog with an excerpt from that one, edited for details you'd likely have no interest in, like my food-eating plans and such. But there is something fairly amusing in there, so here it is:
1/7/09
I’ve been thinking about doing this for the last few days, and after the events of the last two hours, well, one event to be exact, I thought I really should get to it.
Disney is on August 15, so doing the math today, Dan and I figured it was 219 days. That’s a lot of time, and on the other hand isn’t that much time on all.
This brings me to working out. I haven’t done it that much so far this year, only twice, and I want to get it that up to three times a week in January, moving it up to four times a week in February, and then we’ll take it from there, eventually hopefully getting six or seven days a week of some kind of workout, whether it be running of weight training.
Today it was running, and that’s a funny story…
I have a treadmill in my house, and when I got home before my dad today, I decided to get a quick twenty minute run in (1.5 miles, natch!) before he had to use the room the treadmill was in, as that room also housed two computers, as well as a TV and a rocking chair that my dad relaxed in after work.
So I’m running, for about four minutes, when I feel I might be getting a good rhythm going, so I close my eyes to see if I can keep it up (and to rest my eyes, as I was fairly tired). The moment I do I can feel my strides going all over the place. I pop my eyes open again, but after a quick moment of contemplation, I decide I won’t give up without a fight and try it again. This is because I am brilliant. With my eyes closed…I lose all control of what I’m doing, as if I was running down a wooded path in the dark. My right foot goes right over the back of the treadmill, and the toe of my shoe (and my toe within it) get caught underneath the treadmill belt. I grab the automatic cutoff switch, and go to pull my foot out, but I can’t. As I consider this, I try and figure out how exactly my foot has room to be caught like that anyway. I look down, and sure enough, I’ve kicked my heel right through the wall. My foot was caught like a trap between the treadmill and a stud behind the wall.
Let me repeat that, as I feel it bears repeating. I got my right foot caught not only under the belt of a treadmill, but put it through a wall as well.
I’m sure if I thought about it, it’d seem a metaphor for something. But right now, I’m too tired to see it as anything but funny. Good news/addendum: I didn’t let that stop me, and after disengaging myself from the wall and cleaning off my shoe as to not track drywall everywhere, I got back on and ran 20 minutes.
*******
So there that is. The wall isn't fixed yet but there is a three day weekend coming up. I suppose I'll do it then.
I'd figured I'd start this blog with an excerpt from that one, edited for details you'd likely have no interest in, like my food-eating plans and such. But there is something fairly amusing in there, so here it is:
1/7/09
I’ve been thinking about doing this for the last few days, and after the events of the last two hours, well, one event to be exact, I thought I really should get to it.
Disney is on August 15, so doing the math today, Dan and I figured it was 219 days. That’s a lot of time, and on the other hand isn’t that much time on all.
This brings me to working out. I haven’t done it that much so far this year, only twice, and I want to get it that up to three times a week in January, moving it up to four times a week in February, and then we’ll take it from there, eventually hopefully getting six or seven days a week of some kind of workout, whether it be running of weight training.
Today it was running, and that’s a funny story…
I have a treadmill in my house, and when I got home before my dad today, I decided to get a quick twenty minute run in (1.5 miles, natch!) before he had to use the room the treadmill was in, as that room also housed two computers, as well as a TV and a rocking chair that my dad relaxed in after work.
So I’m running, for about four minutes, when I feel I might be getting a good rhythm going, so I close my eyes to see if I can keep it up (and to rest my eyes, as I was fairly tired). The moment I do I can feel my strides going all over the place. I pop my eyes open again, but after a quick moment of contemplation, I decide I won’t give up without a fight and try it again. This is because I am brilliant. With my eyes closed…I lose all control of what I’m doing, as if I was running down a wooded path in the dark. My right foot goes right over the back of the treadmill, and the toe of my shoe (and my toe within it) get caught underneath the treadmill belt. I grab the automatic cutoff switch, and go to pull my foot out, but I can’t. As I consider this, I try and figure out how exactly my foot has room to be caught like that anyway. I look down, and sure enough, I’ve kicked my heel right through the wall. My foot was caught like a trap between the treadmill and a stud behind the wall.
Let me repeat that, as I feel it bears repeating. I got my right foot caught not only under the belt of a treadmill, but put it through a wall as well.
I’m sure if I thought about it, it’d seem a metaphor for something. But right now, I’m too tired to see it as anything but funny. Good news/addendum: I didn’t let that stop me, and after disengaging myself from the wall and cleaning off my shoe as to not track drywall everywhere, I got back on and ran 20 minutes.
*******
So there that is. The wall isn't fixed yet but there is a three day weekend coming up. I suppose I'll do it then.
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