Yes, I Know Why It Bothers Me 15 May 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Night Person.Tags: dating, dumb things guys do, girls, guys, marriage, men, older guys, relationships, stupidity, women, younger girls
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Since this is going to be about a blog I read last night, I’m going to file it under Night Person.
I read a few blogs, not many. I read one by a science fiction author. Someone sent me the link to check out, and I like it. I read Hollywood Actor. That blog has a lot of drug references. I’ve never done any drugs, don’t plan on doing them. Coffee. Coffee is my drug. I used to have a fascination with heroin but, like gambling, I wouldn’t go near it. I don’t know that I’d have a weakness for either of them, but I’m not going to find out.
I also read the blog of a musician. I hope there are a lot of blogging musicians, because I don’t want this to point right at him. He seems a decent fellow, and the blog seems genuine. I usually enjoy finding a new post on it. Last night, I read his most recent post. There were a couple paragraphs that stuck in my craw. They were followed by a sentence that didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any sense. It seemed vague and random. I went away from the post a little confused.
It probably wouldn’t have meant too much to me. Some guy I don’t know saying things about girls he dated. Sometime this afternoon, that changed. I realized his post had the scent of the same thing my brother does wrong. Like my older brother, he seems to be a smart man. He dates girls and doesn’t understand what went wrong, why they don’t get what he’s offering. Why don’t they take him seriously? Why don’t they see things the way he does?
He last dated a woman who withheld some pretty important information and, after thinking they were boyfriend and ‘girlfriend’ found a picture of her making out with her boyfriend on her blog. What does this tell you? If you’re a guy, you probably just think he got burned – big deal. If you’re a girl, you’ll probably come to the same conclusion I did. He was dating a much younger woman.
He’s in his thirties… let me wiki him… yeah, 37. What woman in her thirties would post a picture of her making out with someone on her blog? What woman in her twenties? That’s a very teenager thing to do. That’s what you’d expect to see on a glitter-pink myspace page, not an adults page.
My older brother? That’s the same kind of thing he falls into – dating younger girls who aren’t emotionally mature. Not teenagers, mind you, just a lot younger than him, in age and mentality.
I can’t make too much of a fuss about it to my brother, because he knows I’ve only dated younger guys since I was in my mid-twenties. But, I go for youthful, not juvenile.
The musician goes on to say he won’t date women outside of his area. So, he’s not really looking for someone to fall in love with, someone to really connect with, the [blank] that will end all [blank] – he’s looking for someone convenient.
My brother does this as well. However, my brother travels a three-state area almost daily, so he has a little wider ‘girlfriend range’.
The sentence at the end of everything he said? The sentence that seemed random at the time? That’s what really bothered me, once I realized what it meant. He describes how he sees marriage. Hold on ladies, you might not be able to get this concept. It’s so complicated and different from what we all know, our pretty little coral brains may pain us. His concept? The whole ‘in love’ phase of a relationship goes away after a while and a strong bond forms. The couple becomes a team, a unit. Love, replaces ‘in love’ and the relationship is the better for it.
Personally, I’ve always referred to it as someone who I’m willing to bury the bodies with. Sure, I’d chew the guy out while I helped dig. Question his reasoning. Tell him if he does it again, he’s digging his own holes, but I’d break a sweat and cover the mound. I have had people look at me strangely for saying that, but that’s only because of the whole ‘dead body’ part. Geez, can’t a girl kid to make a point?
He ends his unique and rare description of marriage that, from what I make of it, would better be called… well… marriage – in its most basic form, with a sentence that explains everything.
“I think I’m looking for a genius.”
Translation: the majority of women are so stupid they don’t understand the concept of marriage as a partnership and are giddy girls hoping for flowers and sunshine all the rest of their lives. Only a genius would know otherwise.
Argh! Only emotionally immature people would think ‘in love’ is a relationship. Only very young girls. If you pick green tomatoes, you have to expect them not to be fully developed.
For [musician] and my brother – neither of them will ever see this – for ALL GUYS – date women closer to your own age. Don’t date immature girls. If you do, don’t expect young girls to be loyal – they have oats to sow, and you’re going to get hurt. You don’t have to date old women to find someone who’s emotionally mature. Hopefully, you’re smart enough to know better.
Yes. Yes, I know why this bothers me. Yesterdays post is not far from my mind. I’m self-aware enough to get it… thanks. The point, is still valid.
Night Person Dreams 15 May 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Night Person.Tags: age, books, boyfriend, dreams, ex, night people, Night Person, stories
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I don’t know about other night people, but I have some pretty weird dreams. Half of the short stories in my book were based on dreams. ‘Based’ isn’t really accurate – they were dreams. It’s almost like cheating, but I have strange enough dreams to write them up as stories and screenplays. I wonder if people ever have poetry dreams?
In mine, sometimes I’m the main character, sometimes a bit player, sometimes a viewer – like I’m watching a movie. I’ve been a young boy, an old man, just about any character you can imagine. Last night’s dream involved a school bus, a steep incline, kites and a really cool globe device that you could think of images and they would appear in the globe. You could zoom in on the image, move it from side-to-side, etc. – just by thinking it. It was very cool, but the goal was to find an image you like and set it into the globe. The image I wanted was a lake with trees. It was all grey and misty. I couldn’t figure out how to get the thing to ’save’ the image. I would back away, and the image would pan out. It was frustrating, and might say something about me that I’m unaware of.
Psychics, be they real or not, often say they can’t foresee things in their own lives. It’s a legend like vampires can or cannot be around garlic. I can’t decipher my own dreams. I can decipher other people’s dreams very easily. Sometimes, it’s totally embarrassing when someone is telling me a dream they had, and I know what everything in the dream means and what that means they are thinking/feeling. I know this goes against the whole ‘I’m dense’ that I profess. I guess I just have a minor layer of complexity. Maybe, my brain is cautious, so I take personal things at face value so I don’t risk too much?
Last night, I looked up my first boyfriend. I didn’t really date till I was out of high school. I went on a date or two, but never had a ‘boyfriend’. I was too busy goofing off with my friends and causing trouble for the authorities that be within the school environment. I looked him up, because he’s playing in a few weeks, literally down the street from me. I was going to go to the show to see how he looks now and check out his wife. The wonderful tool of the internet made that unnecessary. His wife has set up a website for them. I should mention, by ‘play’ I mean perform. He’s a musician. I’ve only dated musicians and musicphiles. Not on purpose, but I have so many mixed tapes… I always thought I would date a sarcastic, sullen, literate fellow. I don’t think I’ve ever even met one.
Anyway, my first boyfriend is old. He looks like a ‘grown-up’. His wife is old. I don’t understand how that happened. We were the same age. Now, he’s old. It would seem logical that I would, therefore, be old as well. I don’t think I’m old. I’m not overweight. I’m not wrinkled. I’ve been dying my hair since I was 9, but I don’t think I’d be grey. I should explain, nine is young, but I wanted dark brown hair, and I had light brown. My mother said, ‘If you want darker hair, dye it.’ So, I did. I’ve had almost black hair, black and blonde hair, burgundy hair, streaked hair… I tried to dye it green once, but it wouldn’t take. I guess that’s where my hair drew the line. I thought it would look great to have hair the colour of my eyes. I once saw a guy with blue eyes and hair and swoon!
I don’t look my age. That’s not vanity, that’s from the reaction I get when I tell some new friend my age.
I work part-time at a library. After 9-11, my business sales slacked, horribly. I decided to get a part-time job, just till things picked up. I’ve always wanted to work at a library. After business picked back up again, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Books! Books everywhere! New books! Classic books! Authors I’d never heard of! It’s like a hungry person working at a snack shop. Which reminds me, I saw a book called The Boy Who Ate Books and forgot to get it. Argh!
Yeah, so I work at a library, and I told a new girl my age. For the next two weeks, all I heard about was my age. She had told everyone how old I was. I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I would have told anyone who asked, but apparently it was big news. Geez, I almost put my real name. “[my real name] you’re how old? That’s impossible!” Two weeks of me assuring everyone I was as old as I said. It made me cautious about telling people. I’ve never cared about telling my age. Suddenly, I had become one of those coy women, but I imagine for a different reason.
I’ve been waiting all my life to get old. I was rarely taken seriously when younger. I was ‘cute’. Cute overrides anything you say. The internet was my salvation. I could write under a genderless name, with no photo and be taken seriously. God knows – He really does – how much I love that. I’m thinking maybe my time has finally come. If my ex is old, then maybe I’m finally old enough that people will listen to what I’m saying and not stop me to tell me I have pretty hair. Except, yesterday a stranger told me I have pretty hair. ::sigh::
Only One Really Astounds Me 12 May 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Once.Tags: code, dancing, desk, drawings, girls, handbook, left-handed, patent
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I once got a desk off the back of a truck headed for the dump. I had a desk at the time and didn’t believe I needed another – or a different one. My friend called:
Friend: I think you’re going to want this…
Me: I have a desk.
Friend: It’s solid wood, about 50 years old, stained Mahogany – you like Mahogany.
Me: I have a desk.
Friend: It’s left-handed.
Me: I’ll be waiting outside.
I’ve mentioned before, I’m left-handed. I don’t search out left-handed things, but when offered I’ll take them. Thing is, I don’t get how a desk that’s atleast 50 years old could be left-handed – it is, but I don’t get it. We’re talking the 1940’s. In a book I read recently, the author said there are still parent who will discourage their child’s use of the left-hand for writing. Growing up, there weren’t many left-handers in my classes. Our school had, maybe, two left-handed desks. The desk my friend gave me is a huge (executive) desk with glass on top. Being very old, that means some professional likely had the desk custom-made. Even more unusual, there is a smaller (though far from small), dropped area. I suppose it’s for a typewriter, but it fits a keyboard wonderfully, with the monitor sitting on the area above it. It’s almost as though the desk was custom-made for me.
I once filed a patent. It is for a [adjective, adjective] photo frame. I have to leave out that key part, not for fear someone would steal my idea, but because I could be found through it. Prior to filing the patent, I filed a Provisional Patent. The design garnered the interest of [major corporation], but after talks they decided it would be easier to take it. They told me they didn’t believe the patent would be approved, based on ‘prior art’ – meaning, it seemed a logical step in development. I had a search done. No similar prior art. I filed the patent. It will probably be a few years before I know if the patent is approved. I’m sure [major corporation] has looked over my filing. It showed up in a Google patent search recently. Kind of neat.
I once cleared a dance floor. Seriously. Like you see in movies. I have no idea how or why it happened. I can dance, but most everyone can. My sister can’t. She has this odd way of dancing that looks like dancing, but is completely off-beat. I’ve tried to imitate it, but it’s very hard. The beat calls you to it, so I can only do it for a few seconds. It’s really an amazing talent on her part.
I was at a club with a friend, and we were dancing. The song started, Mony, Mony – Billy Idol’s cover. It was an old song, but upbeat. Since I usually went dancing with him, we were in-synch on moves. I could change styles mid-song, and he would be right behind me. We were dancing a little jazz-era fun thingy. I don’t have dance training, but I can usual imitate anything I see dance-wise – idiot savant. I was laughing, because it was fun popping around, then I looked up. Everyone had left the dance floor. It wasn’t like the way everyone leaves the dance floor when Straight Up is played – that song is totally undanceable. They were all lined up around the railing surrounding the dance floor – watching us. It was completely, utterly frightening. I’m shy. Seriously. I don’t like attention. This was a wall of eyes. I thought my legs would just stop moving. My body would freeze, but the beat was going and so was I. Another guy I knew leaned over the railing and yelled, “I wanna dance with you!” and pointed right at me. Yes, it’s interesting, several years on, but at the time? Horrifying. Honestly.
I once dated a guy who claimed to have the ‘girls’ handbook’. He described it as a translation dictionary for what girls say, and what girls really mean. Problem is, I never got my copy, so I didn’t know I was supposed to talk in code. I don’t know the usual games. If I’m mad at someone, I tell them why. When I say, ‘I’d like to be alone.’ That’s what I mean. I don’t mean anything else. He was very, very confused by me. I hope he threw the damned thing out.
I Once Encountered a Fibonacci Golden Ratio Poetry Annoyance 8 May 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Once.Tags: coincidence, fib, fibonacci, fibs, golden ratio, poetry
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I
do
not like
the onslaught
of coincidence
including this fib you read now
A Day in the Night 6 May 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Night Person.Tags: dating, drawing, night, Night Person, online, pbs, social networking, social networks, thoughts, writing
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I’m a night person. I can’t see any advantage to being a morning person – not that I could ever be one. Night people have the world, mostly, to themselves. The world is quiet at night. Like robots, everyone shuts down. I like that. Morning people like to pretend they have the world to themselves, up before others, but it’s like yelling ’shotgun‘ as you’re headed to the car. There’s always someone running behind you trying to subvert your claim. Morning people walk a razor’s edge of knowledge that the world is waking up around them. At any moment there they are, the rest of the world. Night people have a good 4-6 hours of the world only getting further and further away.
With the world shut down, I like to tie up loose ends at night. Do the things I didn’t get around to during the day. Several of them are on my toolbar right now. I’m working on a networking site project. To find out what applications are fun, easy to use, and reliable, I’ve signed up on a few social networking sites and have some blogs on other sites. (Don’t hate me, but LiveJournal is not fun to use) I do NOT have a myspace page. I simply cannot bring myself to have one.
Okay, that’s kind of not really the truth. I have two myspace pages. Oh God. I can’t believe I’m admitting that. Neither page is really mine. One is… a silly, mocking page for [that which cannot be named]. The other is in my pen name. I have pimped them, but my author page is marked private, and I only did it at the urging of my publisher. I don’t log into them very often, monthly at most, sometimes months go by…
I can’t put my opinion about myspace here, because my friends all know it by heart, and it would definitely lead them here. I have one sentence that shows exactly what myspace is… come to think of it, I may be able to dance around it so it won’t show in a search engine. If you’ve been on the net a while, you’ll remember there were users of a certain bulletin board service that thought it was the internet, who were mocked for their poor social skills and lesser degrees of intelligence. They all migrated to myspace. I think I’ve worded that safely enough.
For having pages on social networking sites, I’m not very social. I’ll accept almost any ‘connection’ offered, but I don’t search people out. I’m testing the applications. I don’t really have the time to put too much effort into each of them. Some sites, like Gather, are crazy busy. It’s like no one on there works, and they all send me email all day long.
I don’t belong to any dating sites. I have dated… I’m thinking it’s three right now, but I could be wrong… guys I met online. One I dated a while. Two I went out with once. I like the concept of online dating – what if my perfect man lives in another state/country? – but I haven’t pursued it. I write back to everyone who emails me on my domain. I’ve made some good friends that way.
I realized recently I don’t have dating as a priority. I checked my to-do list. Checked my extended projects list. Nope, forgot to write it down. I met a guy recently online, and we wrote to each other for a while. It was like a slow first date. Instead of realizing we had very little in common in a few minutes, it took me a few emails, spread out over more than a week. By that time, he wanted to meet. I thought ‘what the heck’, then couldn’t figure out when. I finally gave him a date and time. I saw it as an appointment, he could tell. I felt bad about that. I only went, because I felt like I owed him a face-to-face. He seemed uptight even in email. Uptight and I don’t go together. A friend recently said I remind her of Dory in Finding Nemo, because I’m astounded and amused by the dumbest things. (I was giggling about a blurring css code on a webpage – she didn’t find it as amusing)
I have a TV rule for late night. Do not stop on PBS. I don’t have cable/dish, because I would spend all day watching re-runs of Gilligan’s Island. I would. I would watch Dobie Gillis, just to see Maynard. No, I don’t have a crush on Bob Denver. I like the Professor on Gilligan’s Island. So smart, yet so easily confused! I would watch Bewitched. I would watch just about any black and white movie. I would watch SciFi, Discover… I would never leave the house.
I won’t stop on PBS, because I will get stuck there. I watched some of Ken Burns’ War series. I watched a documentary about Typhoid Mary. The best thing I’ve watched was a version of Hansel and Gretel. It was scary and wonderful. The trees in suits were the best. I thought they might give me nightmares, but I couldn’t look away. The worse I’ve watched, when I made the rule, is a documentary about some world hairdressing competition. I tried to pull myself away from the TV. I told myself it was a stupid thing to watch. A waste of time… I could not care less about hairdressing… I watched the whole thing. I try very hard now not to stop on PBS.
I do some real work late at night as well. I work on updates for my domain. It’s in dire need, but rather large, and I like playing with the code and graphics. Seems I never get anything finished. I have a few writing projects I’m working on – on which I’m working? One is a play. I’m stuck 3/4 of the way through it. I love the characters. I love the setting. It reminds me of a poor man’s Iceman Cometh, but I don’t know where it’s going.
Usually, I just let the characters tell me. They are mum. When I write, I don’t outline. I sit down and write. I finish what I’m writing. This one is beyond me. I think it’s safe to tell you (yes, only you) the working title is Tattoo. It’s not a shocking, pushing the envelope play. Like I said, Iceman comes to mind. I tend to write with a masculine voice, probably because I’m not a big fan of female writers and draw from what I’ve read. Most of my writing is taken as a man’s – a lesser Lethem. A reviewer compared my writing to Philip K Dick. – don’t I wish. A friend said my writing reminded her of Richard Matheson. I asked her if he’s known for misspellings and bad grammar. She didn’t think it was funny.
I use genderless names for screenplays, fiction, articles, etc. – pieces of my real name that can be used without gender, except for on my book. That was strictly a pen name. Well, not strictly. Actually, it was a neoist take on my real name. ::laugh:: I never realized that. [Neoist I used to share mail art with] would be proud.
So, that’s what I do at night while most everyone is sleeping. Not very exciting. But the quiet gives me time to think without the energy of others around. Everyone needs time to think.
thoughts.txt
Original file date: 08/01/07
Bill Gates killed intelligent software by saturating the market with left-brained, unintelligent software. See: Lotus Agenda
Though I didn’t like it when it was released, I’ve come to realize Master of Puppets is the best heavy-metal song ever written.
Imagine, fifty to a hundred years from now when our current time is mocked for the belief in evolution and global warming. They’ll laugh at this time like we laugh at the ‘flat earth’ people.
Sometimes when I’m listening to music, it strikes me as odd that people write words and music and perform/record them for other people to listen to. There’s an entire industry built around the concept of, “Listen to this song I can sing.”
I don’t get spring fever. I get fall fever.
If you name a product ‘Chocolate’ it should be brown. A dark brown would be nice.
After posting, WordPress found THIS.
