sureshotjeff

"Haha we all lipsync!!! And we look so silly doing it.
Btw, you look like a 13 year old in your pic on livejournal (cause you're shaved)
And on the youtube you look more your age."

Note the word "more" in "more your age" - haha, I agree, I'm still like a 20-year-old trying to look 21+

I was just venting. I know things are cool. Women are cool. Yale is cool. Sorta haha.
Peace.

So, I haven't been observing the Jewish holidays this year - except for eating the festive meals and posting a facebook status message that I apologize to all the people I've hurt in any way this past year.

Instead of going to services tonight, I went over to hang out with my friend (formerly "friend with benefits" or "extra benefits" b/c there are always benefits to being someone's friend)...to do some non-holiday-spirited things. No, not that, or that, or that - didn't you just hear me say we got rid of the "extra benefits"?!
I mean homework, eating, drinking, laughing....but also having a heart-to-heart which did feel very much in the spirit of the holiday.

Anyway, when I left, she told me to drive home safely (b/c it was dark/raining out), and it reminded me of a thought I had on the way over there. I said back to her, "Ya, well, I decided if I get into an accident, it's a sign from God that I should become an Orthodox Jew...So you better believe I'm gonna drive safely!" We laughed. I was (and still am) too tired and sick to know if I meant that comment seriously.

When I pulled into my neighborhood, I didn't get into an accident, but right at midnight (the holiday started at sundown, but still weird) the malfunction and battery lights went on in my car, and the car started to shake...I pulled it in to the closest spot I could find and walked the 3 extra minutes to get home. Gonna call AAA tomorrow - not too worried about that - but maybe it was God's way of telling me something.

Like, maybe God's being nice by making it a small malfunction rather than a serious accident. And if I don't listen this time, the next sign is gonna be something awful. Or maybe it's a halfway sign - not an accident or indication that I should become an Orthodox Jew, but a signal that I should start going to services again.
If it's a symbol of the death of my own "spiritual battery" then I didn't need this extra hassle to tell me that.

How do I really feel about it? It's a sign that I was too lazy to get my car checked out again after the service center said they couldn't find anything wrong with it (despite the noise from the engine).
Anything like this ever happened to you? Whaddaya think I should do?
One last thought:
Midnight - not a significant time in terms of the holiday - but a significant time in the secular world...I need to find a better balance between my secular life and my religious identity.....I'm not too worried about it - just CURIOUS! ;-)

Sometimes I think
After every 3-pointer I sink,
If I made one million 3's,
I'd lose this cursed disease.

All the women would want me,
And my past would never haunt me.
I'd be a "real American hero" -
A human G.I. Joe.

But toys and games
Can never destroy deep shames.
They can only mask them,
And so I will never ask them -

To save me from my life,
And help me find a wife.
But I will always pretend,
They can change my end.

So when I inquire,
Don't destroy my desire,
Please, oh, Please! -
What if I did make one million 3's?

(and anyone who reads this so they can remind me):

Man the fuck up, starting now. No late-night eating before bed. No more unreasonable compromises. Step the fuck up. If you get too careless, you'll end up back in the hospital, and that's not a fucking option right now.

Kill all the hatred with success. Accept whatever hatred remains.

"I can't be her superman, can't be her superman, can't be her superman, her superman, her superman." - Eminem; those R&B songs are cute, but this song's message is the key right now.

Find more positive/constructive ways to fight back.

Feel the pain; don't fear it.

Fewer distractions, more meaning.

Fewer games, more honesty.

Less envy; healthy pride.

More assertiveness; less impatience.

Learn, adapt, reevaluate, grow....HEAL THYSELF. HEAL THY NEIGHBORS.

What's so bad about T-M-I?
I'd rather be open than sit here and cry.
But I sit here anyway b/c you still don't reply.
["you" does not really refer to my LJ friends, though I'd like to add more so I get more feed back]
Why is everyone too shy
to admit they WANT to pry?

Maybe if you'd all given openness a try,
I would not have become a broken guy.

But rather than deny
That I'd still like to die,
I'll sit here and be wry
While I let my heart decide,
Confessing all my crimes,
And giving in to partial rhymes.

So, maybe - no, surely - I'm paranoid, but the trainers at the gym really may be worried about me. I've got nothing to do since finishing summer school and have been spending 3-5 hrs a day at the gym - working on dribbling and shooting drills, riding the bike, lifting weights, and just chilling. Today was the only 5-hour day since I'm headed to the beach tomorrow and will be veg'ing out hardcore. It's not like I'm gonna make a habit of working out for 3-5 hours (1-2 hours sounds just right). They prob think I am obsessed with bball and getting fit, and think I have grand dreams of being a bball superstar. Well, they're like Ray Charles in the Louvre - they've got not fucking clue.

I wish I didn't have to work out so much when I'm not in school/working, but I just don't have much else I enjoy doing. If my body starts hurting, I shut it down. I ride the bike to save my joints the stress from running. I work on dribbling drills and shooting drills b/c I enjoy them. I know I'll never be a dominant player, but it makes me feel good to see the ball go through the hoop or the ball go back and forth between my legs (and yes, as indicated by that line, part of the problem is that I am sexually frustrated, lol, but true). If I could work out at 100%, I'd easily finish in 1.5 hours or less, but b/c of the FMS, I can never (rarely) go full speed and compensate by spending long hours there.

Yeah, I know it's not healthy and far from ideal, but it's got nothing to do with body image. Just boredom and physical discomfort that is alleviated by exercise. Maybe if those trainers, and the other ppl I encounter day to day, were friendly to me, I'd have less need to spend hours exercising. The schmucks they should be worried about are those guys who take out their problems on the other guys playing 5-on-5, and argue every call and ruin the games. I may be fucked up, by I take out my frustrations on the court, the weight machines, and in my journals. I'm furious with the world, but I treat everyone with respect (except maybe when I am drunk). So - to the haters, to those who don't understand b/c they don't try to understand, - fuck you and I pray that you never understand why I am the way I am...and if you do, I pray you don't become an alcoholic, drug addict, or bigger schmuck than you already are. ENOUGH. Time to have another solo party with my parents gone to celebrate life and my very good fortune that I can still work out hard and long (lol, there's that sexual frustration again)!!!

Inspired by my date last night (3rd date with this person), I wrote this somewhat depressing but hopeful poem:

"Broken or Together?"

Two bodies so peculiar,
two mouths so hushed.
Two souls so similar,
two hearts so crushed.

An ambiguous scene,
like a painting by Hopper:
Two young people (and a screen)
sitting in a theater.

I wanted to reach out,
and rub her shoulder.
I wanted to cry out,
and try to console her.

But there was a second screen -
between our two seats.
It was completely unseen,
like two transparent sheets.

How could two young people have suffered -
and suffered so much?
But I've mostly wondered
whether our bodies and souls will ever touch.

[tune in to find out!]

So, I hit game-winning shots in two of the 5 pick-up hoops games I played in today...but that wasn't the best part of my day. My English class professor assigned no new readings before our exam on Tuesday...but that wasn't the best either. We read a couple poems in class that I actually really liked (I'll quote them at the end of this post)...that's not it either.

The best parts of my day were two clutch phone calls (I hesitate to value one more over the other). First, a good college buddy of mine called to say he will be coming down from NYC to meet his brother in DC and would pick me up on the way (tomorrow afternoon). So, I'll finally get to party again. Second, after a little phone tag, I got a call back from the girl I went out with on Sunday and we're gonna go out again on Saturday. It'll be my most social weekend (aside from my friend's wedding) in a long time!

As for the poems, well, I guess I like stuff I can relate to, and so I LOVE this poem by Ernest Arlington Robinson (written in 1897). It's dark, but it's "the truth" and anyone who knows me (or thought they knew me) will see the connection.

"Richard Cory"

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
[jumping ahead....]
And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine we thought he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet in his head.
[Yes, it's dark. No, I'm glad I'm not "Richard Cory" but I could have been him. This poem reveals a truth that few people truly realize or take to heart: never assume you know what is going on inside someone else or what they are going to do.]

On a brighter note, the ending of "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost (1923) may be a more accurate reflection of my life:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

The end of "Birches" is also clutch. It basically says that the speaker would like to "get away from earth" by climbing up the birches of a tree towards heaven until the tree bended from the weight and set him back down - "That would be good both going and coming back."

[i'm exhausted and stressed about my paper and exam tomorrow...this might not make much sense to others.]
...feels like high school...
except that: my body hates me more
- my mind hates me less
- much less athletic pressure
- fewer assignments to hand in (although many more than undergraduate)
- medicine helps keep me awake
- i'm not worrying about getting into college
- i go to school with women
- no dress code
- i'm more interested

so, who cares if my resting pulse is 80-100+ and my body lightly trembling? did i mention the range on my jumpshot is at an all-time best? lol. (seriously, don't worry, i'm seeing the doctor tomorrow.)

if any facebook friends have been reading any of these entries, leave me a comment some time. don't be embarrassed - i'd read your blog if i saw it on your profile (even ppl i only met once or twice at Feb Club...or especially those crazy Feb Club ppl's blogs). or drop me a line on facebook. making new friends is fun but tiring. it'd be nice to hear from you guys!

To sum up my first week (4 days) of grad school, it was a really stressful adjustment, particularly b/c I am still recovering from the sinus surgery and I was an idiot for signing up for 3 classes (24 hours of class time in 4 days every week as compared to the 6 hrs/week of class time I had in my last semester of college). Rest assured, I dropped one of my 4-hr x 2 meetings/week teaching seminars and should be OK from this pt forward. I'm taking a teaching seminar on child development (2 x 4 hrs./class/week) and an undergrad English lit course I need to be certified to teach English (meets M-Th, 2 hrs each day). The classes are pretty boring but it's good to be out of the house.

1. "The XXX Smoothie" I worked out yesterday (at the Towson gym) for the first time since my surgery. Bad idea. I was exhausted - mentally and physically - from trying take all 3 courses and from not having much time to eat. I went to the student center afterwards on the way to my evening seminar and decided to get a smoothie. I picked one that was low in fat and high in protein. The smoothie sign said that it was called the "Body Builder" and described it as a "fat stripper, muscle-building, strawberry-banana smoothie." Unfortunately, I did not read the title and only read the description. I went up to the lady at the counter (good thing nobody else was around...) and asked the "BBW" (big black woman), "Can I get a 'Fat Stripper?' "
"Excuse me?" she said. "You know," I said, "the 'Fat Stripper' smoothie." She walked over and looked at the sign. I also walked over and looked at the sign. "Oh," I said. "I meant the 'Body Builder.' " It wasn't until she started making the smoothie that I began laughing. "What's so funny?" she asked. "I just realize what said to you when I first tried to order. Thanks for not getting more upset...but they should really take that phrase out of the description."


2. "0-for-2" While drinking the smoothie, I noticed a cute red-headed girl from my English lit class. In my effort to make new friends, particularly female friends, I walked over to her to ask what the readings for tomorrow were. Of course I knew what they were (although half the class probably didn't know what they were since they pay absolutely no attention in class and refuse to make comments about even the simplest general knowledge questions). Based on my impression of the class as a whole, she was much smarter and tons more motivated than I would have guessed. She was also friendly, 3 years younger, and thought it was cool that I went to Yale (I only told her because she asked). Then I told her I was at Towson as a grad student in teaching. "Oh, my boyfriend is also studying to be a teacher." Good thing she kept talking after that and didn't notice the brief moment when eyes looked down in disappointment. But at least I'd made a new friend to help survive the next 4 weeks of this already tiresome class.
I looked at my watch. 4:45. I had to get going so I could be a few minutes early to my teaching seminar and have an opportunity to get to know the beautiful brunette I'd briefly introduced myself to on Day 1. Rationally, I knew she was probably looking for older guys or already had a boyfriend or just wouldn't have any interest in me. But my irrational optimistic voice noted that she looked like she COULD be 23 or 24; she was shy but friendly, so maybe she had a hard time meeting ppl. Day 1 of seminar, I sat at a different table so she wouldn't think I was interested in her. Day 2, however, I sat across from her and started a conversation. I told her the "Fat Stripper" story which had just occurred and she laughed. I still knew it was a long-shot but things were going well. Then, when we started groupwork, another nice woman at our table said, "Oh, that's a lovely ring. When did you get engaged?" This time my heart definitely skipped 2 or 3 beats as I finally looked and saw her huge diamond ring. "Note for self:," I thought, "look for engagement ring before pursuing targeted female." Lol. But I was also relieved she would no longer be a distraction and I could focus on the class more easily. I really hope she couldn't see my disappointment.

3. "Physical and Mental Crash" Even before finding out that girl #2 was engaged, I was feeling really lousy. Stressed about all the readings I had fallen behind on, physically sore and tired from walking all over campus and working out again, and the pain from my swollen sinuses was getting worse....oh, and I also may have taken 2 Ritalin several minutes apart (instead of 4 hours) because I couldn't remember if I'd taken one before I started chatting with girl #2. I was already anxious, but by an hour into the seminar, I was having a low-level panic attack. It didn't help that the teacher moved slowly through the material and treated me like I was an idiot because I got confused about something (which I admit was a simple concept that I misunderstood because I was so tired). He later cut me off while I was making a point to slowly explain the additional comment I was about to make. Then he used the point as an opportunity to explain how I, specifically, could apply the concept in my future English classes. The suggestion was also obvious and I had even written it down myself in a writing assignment I handed in at the beginning of class. I was cracking on the inside (there was still 1 hour to go) and could no longer hold in my discomfort and frustration. I turned my head and put my hand over the sinus pressure. "What's wrong, Jeff? Did I cut you off?" Half the class started giggling (hopefully at him and not at me). Yes, he did, but I knew that I wasn't the real problem. "No. I'm just not feeling well today," I said, one of the biggest understatements of my life. "Oh, OK. We're almost done." The rest of the class I almost felt like crying. Not because he cut me off. That wouldn't have bothered me so much if I was feeling OK. I couldn't really tell you why. It was more physical than emotional. My mind and body had already crashed earlier that morning when I rushed around campus to drop my second seminar. It had been a hot day. My body was even shaking while I was lifting weights, but I just thought it was because I'd gotten weak. Better day today, but my body still hates me. We'll see... The next 4 weeks should be better. At least some amusing stories came out of week 1.

I kept waking up this morning from a bizarre dream I was having, but I kept making myself go back to sleep because I wanted to find out what the ending would be. Unfortunately, I had to wake up at 10:30 to get a haircut since we're leaving for my friend's wedding tomorrow.

Anyway, I don't talk about dreams much because they're usually too boring and bizarre to bother remembering, let alone think about when I'm awake. But for some reason, this one excited me. I was in a city, presumably where I was attending college (although it didn't look like New Haven), and I got off a bus with this girl I was chasing (in real life) the first 2-3 months of freshman year. I don't think about her much, but I'd been thinking about freshman year lately so maybe that's why she was in the dream. Anyway, we got off the bus and were going to head to class when I realized I didn't have my bag or any of my books. Some other girl who was with us said, "Oh, you'll never make it in time." I tried to run but found that one of my legs had fallen asleep or something, and so I started hopping on one foot. [Being able to hop is actually an improvement on most of my dreams where I'm just frozen or too tired to move at all. Yeah, the symbolism is pretty obvious.] I was doing a good job hopping when my other leg started working again and I began to sprint. I knew it wasn't necessary to sprint all out - what do I really care about being late for class? - but it felt good and I wanted to show off. There were too many people on the sidewalk and so I ran in the street. Cars were coming but I was too impatient to go back on the sidewalk, and I figured they'd swerve out of the way. Then this fast car came up and hit me. Everything went into slow motion. There was no pain, but lots of fear. If it had actually happened, it would have been an "out-of-body" experience. I thought to myself, "No big deal, you'll be OK." And then my body spun around in the air and my head slammed into another car (it might have been an ambulance) and I knew things would be bad. I'm not sure what happened after that - the dream went off on a bunch of tangents as dreams tend to do, but it turned out there was someone trying to kill me. That's right, after the car hit me, I got shot. For a while I thought someone else got shot, but then it turned out it was me. Lol.

Anyway, I ended up in the hospital in the dream and for some reason it gave me this idea for a short story - which now seems hardly related to the dream, but whatever. I won't say too much, but the setting will be the hospital, and the two main characters will be some guy like me and Mystery (the pickup artist from the TV show and "The Game"). We'll both be at the hospital for depression and he'll teach me how to pick up women, despite my being in a wheelchair from jumping out my dorm window. The goal is to make it as funny/amusing as possible without getting too existential/serious. Should be fun to write...too bad I didn't think of this before the wedding and the start of grad school on Monday.

I just decided that I'm really not as bored as I think I am. No, I'm just in suspense. Haha, that sounds better, right?
The only problem is, it feels less like "24" suspense and more like "Lost" suspense. "24" suspense (from the show with "Jack Baur") is much more interesting than "Lost" suspense. In "24," the suspenseful moments are followed by immediate action. In "Lost," (which I stopped watching after season 2 - and would have never watched if I'd had more to do in 2006 - for the following reason) you don't find out what happens/the explanation until episodes later, by which point an impatient viewer (like me) doesn't really care anymore about whatever it was that was left unfinished.

Hopefully in my case, I will still care (for better or worse) when all the stuff I've been planning for after college starts to happen. (I guess it's not that much stuff, but hopefully it'll make my life a lot different.)
Example: What will happen with the sinus surgery? My guess: the discomfort will go down within 2 weeks and I will feel [sigh] marginally better than I did before, and it will just barely have made the surgery worthwhile (like season 1 of Lost just barely made it worth watching season 2...given that I had even less of a life then).
Example: Grad school - will it work out? Will probably have to wait until 2009 to answer that one.
Example: Will I make new friends? Ya, gradually - most likely a friend here and a friend there, and not like college where day one I had 7 new friends just from the guys on my floor.

But that's life, I know. Every day can't be like "24" (which is a good thing because when would we sleep or go to the bathroom?). And most people are also like me, feeling like they're on "Lost" and just hoping that the ending will make the whole ridiculous thing worth the effort. So since I can't just switch channels on my life (say from PBS to ESPN, or Lifetime to Spike), I'll hope I'm approaching a more exciting season (like ppl said about "Lost season 3"), with episodes that are intrinsically satisfying and not dependent on some future outcome. Like this weekend when I get to be a groomsman at my best buddy's wedding in Boston - since I already know what a good match they are for each other, it won't be about waiting to see how their marriage turns out but about enjoying the celebration. And will my tux still fit after 3 more days of vegging out? My weight is at an all-time high, so it's good I'll have the tux motivation to eat less while I'm laying around....tune in Sunday to find out!!

I keep flip-flopping. Of course it doesn't help that I just had surgery and am on steroids and antibiotics. I thought it would be a lot worse, and I'm still happy it's not so bad. But just having extra time on my hands without being able to go the gym or read for me than 15 mins at a time is psyching me out. On the surface, I'm pretty calm - "either things will work out or they won't. Things could always be a lot worse. Things have been a lot worse..."

But here I am, back at home, distracting myself online, listening to music from the 1990's-2003 (that I'm sick of again but there's just no new music I like...besides "Lookin Boy" which I find really amusing). And despite my former optimism, I'm starting to feel that the real world will be like high school - shallow, unfriendly, and unpleasant. I mean, I know it only takes a few ppl to make a difference, but those ppl are hard for me to find - maybe because the ppl that I find to be like-minded are typically loners and/or don't prioritize meeting ppl (like I do...not that I'm very good at it). Ya, I guess most ppl who are like-minded to me have many more interests and are more dedicated to their work.

I like to think it's easier now that I didn't have things so smooth in HS or college because it decreases my expectations for the future. But the opposite may be more true. I guess I don't sweat small stuff but as far as the things that matter to me, I'm really impatient. Which is why I partied so much this past semester - making up for lost time. Like I've said before, I'd trade my Yale experience in a second to have been able to play varsity sports in HS and have had a few more friends. Being good at school was a default and a compulsion. College really should have been that turn around point. It kind of was, at first, but then the health problems kicked in right at the beginning of second semester freshman year, around the time that I really needed to figure out who I was. And by the time I got a better handle on those issues, I'd had 2 sinus surgeries, lost 25 pounds, and had to use testosterone gel daily b/c the "food sensitivities diet" had caused such a rapid weight loss that my "mojo" had dropped to the levels of a 90-yr-old man (according to a lab report).
[Aside: I love it when I tell ppl about the diet (and/or the surgeries) and they ask, "Did it help?" And I say, "No. It made things worse." And they say, "Oh...so did the problems go away?" And I say, "Nope," and then laugh. Not sure why I laugh. I guess it's empowering and prevents the other person from having to make some awkward sympathetic comment that won't mean anything to me (unless it's someone close to me). If I have a choice between calling a personal problem ridiculous or sad, I'll choose ridiculous almost every time - or at least in public, lol. It's like, what are they going to say back - "Really? But you look good...Really? Have you tried [blank]?....Really? Are you going to be OK?" I've always had a need for certainty, and it still scares me that the doctors don't understand the stomach and sinus problems, and I guess laughter is the only way for me to handle the uncertainty. OK, and I guess I like to think the other person is stupid/naive for assuming things worked out.]

So, things are a lot better now (no, not the original problems that led me to take time off, but other problems since then), but I never got back into a groove with college. I felt accepted this past semester at school, but it was only for a few months. It's exhausting having to start over every year. I don't expect the physical problems to go away or even get much better. I just want to fit in, to be accepted, to have fun. So when ppl ask, "Are you going to be OK?", I laugh, because I'm doing my part, and the rest is up to them or ppl like them (pathetic but true). I'm so much more myself now than 10 years ago, but if the real world is like high school, then I better find my click...or you can count me the fuck out.

[Breath] Sorry, the Tylenol must be wearing off.

To end on a more humorous note (if there is possibly anything more funny than walking out on the world), I do see the irony of my plans to become an MS or HS teacher while I hate on my high-school experience. And no, if I do teach at a high school, I will not expect it to be unlike high school, lol. I'm not that unreasonable!

it went really well!! The best by far! I can't tell just how much I'll benefit yet, but it already does feel more open. (Especially because their wasn't much blood and he didn't have to leave any packing in my nose, which was the worst part of the 3 previous surgeries.) I go in for a follow-up tomorrow at 7:30am - I guess it beats 5:30am this morning. I couldn't even keep my eyes open when the nurse was talking to me before pre-op. And as sleepy as I was when I woke up, I could still appreciate the different blond nurse who got me a popsicle for my sore throat (sore from the breathing tube)....I was so out of it I almost told her I'd rather watch her eat the popsicle, haha - jk!

Anyway, I feel pretty normal, which is totally different from the first surgery where I was in mad discomfort for a week. Can't wait for my great friend's wedding in Boston (although I may have to refrain from chair lifting)!

Gotta get up at 4:45am, to be at the hospital by 5:30 (2 hours before the sinus surgery). It reminds me of the first surgery - almost 5 years ago (August 2003). I thought that was gonna be the end of it. I was too uncomfortable and scared to consider the alternative. And then, it didn't really help. And so I tried to believe that it would just take time to help. And I went back to college - which was a great way to stay occupied. Even though I could function, I never felt "back in the game" - which is a term that confuses doctors because it refers almost solely to physical state, and not mental. I try to explain, I've been very depressed before these physical problems nailed me and I was still "in the game" then ("the game" may have sucked terribly under those circumstances, but I was fully in it), but the doctors don't make much effort to understand what I mean since they don't believe in conditions they don't understand. "I'll have you better in 6 months." Ya? I've been watching Sopranos lately and I have half a mind to go to those doctors' houses with baseball bats and break their shins for not delivering on their promises - not that I believed most of them in the first place. But I also now know firsthand that life "out of the game" can still be better than a super stressful life "in the game." It just gets very frustrating and tiring. Things have to be really pleasant and busy or else I start to crack. Like now. In a week, though, things will be different. Even if I don't feel better, I'll be starting my masters program, and so I will be occupied...although it will be quite "interesting" (an optimistic choice of words) to see how well I'm able to get through my classes and reading if it doesn't help. Lol: The world's a messed up place. People get really upset over problems with their new Mercedes, while I worry about this health BS, and millions of other people worry about how they're going to find a way to find food and shelter each day (putting my worries to shame). And I know that's how it is - everyone's going to worry about something - and the danger of not getting upset about little/medium problems is that you become apathetic or "fatalistic." Whatever, now I'm just rambling. I better go to bed. Looking forward to the anaesthesia :-) (I've had it about 15 times over the last 5 years for different procedures and I've developed the tradition of waving goodbye when the sleeping drug enters my system, right before I'm out like a light. Good times.)

I've finally got my sinus surgery on Monday, which is good b/c I'm feeling like crap. I'm grateful that I can still work out, which is usually the only activity that takes my mind off the discomfort. The other day at the pre-op appt, the ENT was looking in my left sinus through a small video instrument that projects the view onto a screen so that he can easily what's going on. I can see the screen, too, and he pointed out the place where the narrow opening should be (on my left side), and the scar tissue that's formed over it is just pulsating, throbbing, every second of every day.

It's going to be tough being in more discomfort after the surgery and not being able to work out for a week, but the discomfort should go away in a couple of days. And I'm lucky that I'll have a big diversion next weekend when I go (with my parents) to my buddy's wedding in Boston. And the day we get back, Monday Jul. 7th, I have to hustle over to Towson for my first day of evening grad-school classes. I'm so eager to meet people and my head is full of all these BS first-impression tactics from "The Game," that I hope I don't blow it, lol. I've been in a real "nothing to lose" mindset this year, so I'm sure I'll try out some of the tactics I read about in the book if for no other reasons than amusement and curiosity. It sounds like a low-success trick, but I'm very curious to try out "If I wasn't gay, I would so hook up with you." LOL. The idea is that it makes the woman (and her guy friends) relax, while you proceed to make a good impression and then make her not care that you said you were gay. Again, Lol. At least when it fails it'll make an amusing story.

Well, it's so hot and humid upstairs in my house (even though the AC is set to 71 - maybe downstairs it's 71) that I won't even attempt to fall asleep until my meds kick in harder and knock me out.

So, I'd like to vent a little about the Knicks' stupidity at the NBA Draft. First, after all their years of sucking, they "should have" gotten a 1-3 pick. The Bulls got the #1 and they've been in the Playoffs recently (not to mention those 6 fucking titles in the '90's, at least one of which the Knicks would have won if not for fucking Michael Jeffrey Jordan), and the Heat got #2 and they won the Finals - excuse me - they were handed the Finals by the Dwayne Wade's-cock-sucking officials in 2006 (which I say as an impartial fan with regard to that series).
"OK," I said to myself after cursing at ESPN for 5 minutes when I heard the news from the Draft Lottery. "They could still get someone good." A friend at school who's a Heat fan even told me he thought the Knicks could get an all-star.

Well, yes, they COULD have picked an all-star, but instead they picked a slow-ass forward from Italy with several dynamite guards still available. I'm trying to have faith in the Knicks' new GM (who is famous for drafting Reggie Miller in Indiana despite the idiot fans' desire to get hometown hero Steve Alford in 1987) and new coach, except for the fact that the Italian dude's nickname is "Rooster" (he must suck) and the new coach only seems to have drafted him because he was friends with Rooster's father when they both used to play professionally in Italy (or something like that).

And besides the guards, there was another awesome player still available....which brings me to why I know Joe Alexander is going to be an all-star or superstar. While Rooster's highlight reel showed him making awkward post moves around skinny Italian opponents, 19-yr-old Joe Alexander has highlights of much smoother post and face-up moves against some of the best college players in the country. Besides the fact that his fadeaway jump shot is perfect and he is long and athletic, "hoops karma" tells me he is going to one of the top 3 players out of this draft. I try to be rational, but sometimes it's much easier to expect predictions based on bad karma to happen so that it doesn't hit you all at once later. Although I'm still a fan of Alexander because his game is so sound (unlike MJ, who I respect and hate to the utmost degree), he fucked over my Syracuse Orangemen in the Big East Tournament in a must-win game for both teams to get into the NCAA tourny. Then, the next day, he and his WV Mountaineers whooped UCONN (who I had decided to adopt as my new team since my gf at the time was a UCONN fan). Then, in the NCAA tourny, WVU upset Duke (which I had in very few of my 50 brackets) and UCONN (my sleeper Final Four pick, who I still think would have beaten UCLA's overrated butts in the Sweet 16) lost in the first round by 1 point in OT after their best player got hurt. I wouldn't say things didn't "work out" with my ex, but things didn't turn out how I wanted them to. And so the Knicks' curse will also continue (see the rational leap I've just made?!?...b/c I don't, heheh) with their failure to draft the player who busted my teams' balls during the Big East Tournament - which some top-notch psychics (or quack psychiatrists?? lol) would say foreshadowed my getting dumped one month later. Understand? No? OK, good, you still might be legally sane.

And if you're still confused, another brief anecdote to explore the superstitious part of my mind. When I was 13 and broke my hand at the start of 8th-grade bball (by far the most important thing to me in my life at the time), I was in the orthopedist's office waiting to find out if I'd get the cast off and be able to play the second half of the season. (It was right before the season that I fucked up my body training so hard over the summer and fall.) As I sat there with my mom, I heard the song that goes "I can see clearly now that the rain has.....I can see bright, bright sunshiny days" on the office's background music system. For a second I thought, "When I get a good report, I'll love this song forever...Oh no, maybe I shouldn't get my hopes up..." I ended up having to wear a cast for two more months (5-6 months total). I cried hard that day. Fuck that motherfucking bullshit song. Overreaction? Well, I'd much rather blame that lame-ass, cornball-shitting song than some God up in heaven laughing his head off at me and all of the rest of us "AFC's" (average frustrated chumps, lingo from "The Game").

And if "Rooster" proves me wrong, I'll be the first to admit it (before all the other fans at MSG tonight who booed him in person when his name was called) and with a big smile on my face.

Hung out with my younger cousin tonight which was cool. We watched the NBA Draft and then I tagged along with him to a party at his friend's mansion down the street (amazing how less than a 1/4-mile down the street from my family's modest 2-floor, no basement townhouse are neighborhoods filled with mansions). I knew I wouldn't stay long because I'm meeting a friend for b-fast and have to be up by 7:30am (about 3-4 hours earlier than I usually get up), and because I get bored at parties if I'm not with close friends and/or drinking - preferably - competitively. ;-P

Nothing too deep to say about the 15 mins I spent at the party except that I wished I, too, had a bunch of friends in the area who I could party with. Being a teenager is tough - whether you're trying to get into an Ivy League school or not. Despite my grades, I was a typical teenager in that I was insecure and wasn't truly interested in much besides sports and girls. Of course, I failed on both those fronts, which is why I'm sitting here now typing this and letting my frozen heart thaw out a little bit more. I'm not sure who or what to be mad at, so I'm just letting myself feel the envy I had of my cousin and his friends, with there arms around girls they met in HS or before, high-fiving buddies they've been tight with for years (or have hated for years but enjoy making fun of behind their backs).

I can think of 3, maybe 4 friends I've remained close with since HS or before - who I'm thankful for - and only one is in Baltimore now. I've been optimistic about meeting ppl, but lately I'm reminded that I've never had much success (outside of college) making new friends. It's like, I don't fit in with the mainstream beyond being a friendly acquaintance, and I'm not weird enough for the oddballs (and they're often too weird for me), and ppl don't tend to be interested in me until they've known me for a while (maybe b/c I'm shy at first, or too forward, or too guarded...or too self-conscious, LOL!....or b/c I laugh at my own jokes?! LO--[must practice self-restraint]).

Yup, same old same old. And now I'm gonna go to bed, thankful that I have nothing more serious to worry/bitch about at the moment (or that I'm able to just not worry about those things...and thankful for the existence of parentheses).

PS: I finished reading "The Game" - I thought it would inspire me to be more assertive in meeting women, and it sort of has, but the last 100 pages was actually really sad. Still a great book and I commend the author for being honest about the pitfalls of worshipping "the game" (although those pitfalls should be very obvious to any decent human being). Unfortunately, most guys who pick the book up won't have the patience to read all 400 pages and take home the book's anti-greedy/superficial/egocentric pursuit of the opposite sex. I'm sure I'll have more to say about the book tomorrow or this weekend. Definitely an eye-opening, entertaining, existential (and at many points pornographic) read.

So, first let me say it was a pretty good day. I went biking with my mom at the Gunpowder Falls Park (the "North Central Railroad Trail"), and went 5 miles further than last time. I woke up feeling very tired and would have slept until noon if we hadn't planned on biking. I biked with her for one mile and then she said it would be okay if I went ahead, so I raced off. I wanted to go 20 miles round trip but after 9.5 miles I figured I should turn around to meet my mom at the 7-mile rest stop area so she wouldn't be concerned. It's good being able to say, "This feels like enough. Who gives a fuck about making it to 20 miles? Besides, I still want to play bball later."

On the way back, I got passed shortly after the rest area (mile 6.5) like I was standing still. I hadn't gotten passed all day, and this guy was dressed with a biker's shirt, shoes, and had a better bike than me. So I decided I wouldn't let him out of my sight. I went as fast as my legs would take me, which fortunately wasn't fast enough to be in much cardio pain (I was breathing hard but certainly below a 170 HR). It felt good to have a pretend race. It gives me a much greater feeling of control than basketball because I wasn't relying on teammates - waiting for someone to pass me the ball - and because I'm a better endurance athlete than power athlete. I kept him in sight and might have passed him (yes, I'm also proud of myself for not exhausting myself in a pretend race that my opponent was unaware of) but I had to stop and adjust my seat.

I beat my mom back by about 15 minutes, so I put my bike on the rack and walked a few paces back onto to the trail to watch a deer eating some leaves or grass. I got as close I could with making her run away. Then my mom came into view and the sound of her bike scared the deer away. I had a great ride, but I still felt drained - weak but not hungry and the water (and juice when we got home) didn't quench my thirst.

So killed time playing Scramble on the computer and taking my car back to the shop to get the tire pressure checked (turned out the pressure was too high -- ?!). By 5pm, I was really restless again and went to the gym - GREAT IDEA! Ya, I'm actually being serious. I missed the first game and got to play on a great team with guys who actually pass the ball. It didn't hurt that we had the 2 best players on the court - my favorite guy to play with - Andy - who's one of the best shooters I've ever seen and is a great team player, as well as I guy I'd never seen before - Jay - who was about 6-foot-8, jacked, and plays professionally in Argentina. We dominated. We won 4 straight games, and I didn't miss a shot (8 or 9 3-pointers in a row). Jay quit after that cuz he didn't think it was fair, but we still won a few more games. I told my buddy on the other team, "the only reason why we're winning is b/c we're moving the ball around." So he got on his teammates (guys I often play with and can't convince to dribble less and pass more) and maybe there'll be a new trend. Nobody - except for a few ppl - ever listens to me at the gym despite the fact - no, because of the fact - that they're morons who pretend that they understand bball because...they're morons.

Anyway, a new guy showed up for game five to take Jay's place and this guy never passes me the ball. He's a short, muscular guard, who I played in the gym league with, and for some reason, he never looks for me. Even Andy was saying, "Look for Jeff!" But I'd be wide open behind the 3-point line and he wouldn't throw it. I don't give a fuck if he didn't see that I was on fire earlier. You hit the open man because that's how the game is played and that's what makes games fun and that's how games are won. I smacked my hand at the air in frustration a couple times and walked back on defense after he ignored me and passed to someone less open, but of course he didn't notice because I didn't exist to him on the court. I mean, I kick it out to him when I drive and he's not nearly as good a shooter as I am. Even my defender was like, "Dude, I'm leaving you open b/c he's not gonna pass the ball to you." Finally I came off a screen and got the pass (from another teammate) and drilled one from NBA range and shook my fist saying something innocuous like, "That's right! That's all day! Let's go!" We kept winning (except for one game), so there were no fights, but next time I'm gonna ask him why he doesn't pass me the ball.

And why am I so bitter you might be asking?! Did I mention he's going out with the hottest girl at the gym? Lol. >:-[ My game's rising to new levels on the court, but off the court...no "touches" or "attempts" and certainly no buckets. Gotta hit the weights harder, but more importantly make new friends. Game On.