Liquid Nonsense

Day 1 Part 1:

This morning I caught up with my old friend Andy whom I haven't seen in several years. Andy and I used to be the only two people in Arizona's instructor's academy years ago. Ultimately his work caused him to move back to Huntington Beach in California and my college life just took up too much time to continue with it.

Holy fucking shit it's humid here. Like absurdly humid and hot. I have become way too accustomed to Arizona's dry heat to make this sudden of a transition. It's probably only 95 degrees outside, but probably about 90-100% humidity.

This morning was the first Masters' seminar. Grand Master Mattera and Grand Master DeMasco provided some demonstrations and some interesting material. We practiced as a group of nearly 500 on the soccer field of one of the University's here in Shanghai. As expected the material was awesome. Now I know the Master's Blocks, also known as the Dragon's Blocks, and the first half of one of the Buddha Palm forms. We get the second half in Beijing.

I'm going to drink a fuck ton of water and get ready for the afternoon. We will get a tour of the city, visit the classical Yu Gardens, see the Temple of the Jade Buddha, and tonight is a cruise on the Yong Pu (name?) river.

After approximately 15 hours of flying time I have safely arrived in Shanghai. So far the only thing we've really managed to accomplish is getting checked into our hotel.

That's not true. The other accomplishment was not getting killed on the way to the hotel. Driving in China makes just about every other city I've ever seen fairly tame. Our bus cut several people off, and wove through traffic. We very nearly hit several cars and the driver never even broken a sweat. I hope I don't get killed here.

Tomorrow morning is the first session of training, so we'll see how that goes. I've been forewarned that my legs are going to hurt for the next six months after this vacation. That's hopefully a hyperbole.

I'm hoping that tomorrow I have some free time to actually write about the trip to Vegas, but I'm not sure if that's going to happen. Wednesday I depart for China for two weeks, and whether or not I will have access to the Internet is still unknown. Hopefully I will so that I can send images back to my computer here in the US and possibly write about the events. Mostly so I can write about the events. When I travel I like to keep a journal of the comings and goings so I can look back at a future date and remember the finer details. This time I'd like to keep a journal that everyone can read.

Also, I finally succeeded in getting a truly awesome picture of my hottie of a boyfriend, Phil. I am much pleased. I love you Phil. You'll be missed when I'm in China!

Spent the weekend in Vegas. Pictures and stories will follow later.

Also, I have started a new blog to be the home of my new writing project. I want to separate the content of my personal writing from the various questions I want to pose to the world.

I have reposted my first two questions along with a third.

Check it out: soapboxisyou.blogspot.com

This seems a fine a day as any to attempt a new posting format. Here's how I envision this working:

1) I will offer a statement, or series of statements, intermixed with various questions related to potentially corresponding issues. For instance: During my childhood my parents routinely gave me vanilla ice cream, does that imply chocolate ice cream is not fit for child consumption or that it is simply not a hallmark of my youth?

2) You, the reader, will then formulate some kind of response. I'm more interested to see what forms these may take and what questions generate the most volume. Preferably they may be comments posted here or extended entries posted in your own blog (though I request a link be provided in the comments to maintain a more aggregate body of work if you write a response elsewhere).

My friends are a highly diversified lot and often questions I pose tend to generate extremely varied responses. This is my effort to create an academic exercise so people can flex the brain I know they have. This one will consist of two questions. Feel free to respond to one or both.

Reading 1: "Slut pride") Margaret Cho has often self-identified as being a slut, and generally asking where her parade is going to be held. Though slut is a term we hear often, it can mean several different things depending upon context. For some of us, myself included, it can be a term of endearment. However, it is also potentially a firebrand used by others to indicate disapproval of promiscuity. From your own perspective, is "slut" a term that you identify with or aspire to, or is it a term that you would find highly offensive if directed toward you? If you do identify with it do you consider it a point of strength, or a vice you have simply been caught with? For those that find it offensive please elaborate and provide a context for why it is used negatively or why it indicates something you would never want to be identified with. Consider social implications, long term personal goals, experiences, and sexual wants. Also, identify your criteria for using the term and what constitutes a person being a slut versus not being a slot. Are these fairly black and white criteria, or do they provide a full gradient of grays with blurred boundaries and exceptions? Lastly, does the context (or the answers to) of the previous questions change if we add the Spring Break effect, that is to say "What happens on Spring Break, stays on Spring Break" (ethics in a vacuum)?

Reading 2: "Defrost on high") Combinations of modern medicine and science have potentially brought us the gift of receiving treatment for our terminal illnesses in the future. The proposed solution is that we essentially let people "die" today and then cryogenically preserve their body so that we may resuscitate them at an unknown point in the future when medicine is capable of correcting their ailments. Do you agree with long term cryogenic preservation, and if so, why or why not? Though no successful attempts have been made to restore one of these individuals, it is largely guess work at this point. Would you allow a loved one to undergo cryostasis if they requested it? If so, what if the treatment was only available through the usage of this individual's entire life insurance plan? Furthermore, consider the psychological shock imposed on an individual that is now potentially hundreds of years out of context. Your education is primarily useless and you would have no understanding of the pop culture of when you are restored (consider someone from the 17th century attempting to browse the Internet). It may not even be on Earth. How substantially would that alter the remainder of your life, and does that psychological shock still seem worth it for the chance to artificially extend your life? Discuss the potential outcomes and pitfalls of a world where indeterminate medical preservation is possible. Be sure to state your assumptions.

My job is poisoning my soul. Earlier today was the final proof of that. Long story short, I feel like I had a momentary emotional collapse on Phil that I would not have had under most normal circumstances.

After I had my sense of equilibrium restored I thought about what we had said and where I went nuts. I clearly hate my job and it's translated into me placing a somewhat unhealthy amount of my sense of happiness onto the relationship itself. I've been using my personal life to make up for the short-comings in my day-to-day work life.

I'm reasonably sure the root of my turmoil is in the fact that the company that I've entered into discussions with would require me to relocate for a while. So far I've been told it's three months with the option of commuting back on some of the weekends. Since my current employer is sucking my will to live slowly out through my anus, I have an aversion to leaving the comfort of my accessible boyfriend. I'm just going to say that some hugs have prevented certain people from taking a nine-iron to the throat.

Tonight I have taken the first major steps to doing whatever I need to do to get my work/school life thoroughly straightened out. I need a new job and all the corresponding paperwork is now in motion.

I still don't like the idea of not having Phil around quite so much, but I know it's only three months. I can definitely manage three months. I figure my relationships work roughly the same way I play Texas Hold em. I either fold early, or I go all in and see what happens with the cards on the table. I don't have to say that I've already gone all-in this time, but I know regardless I made the right choice. Now just to harmonize work and home. Then I'll be set.

My friend Megan wrote a post about the lost art of conversation. I agree with the content, but this is about a comment I made. My conversation skills are a thing of legend among certain people. They are long, involved, thematic, typically not safe for the general public, and generally very well informed. Megan's description of me and my strange power:

You, sir, are the Marquis de Sade of conversationalists.

I don't know if I've ever felt more pride in someone else's description of my verbal skills. Also of note, last night looking through old writing and comments I uncovered this gem from Megan too in response to my more glib writing:

You are saying what everyone else thinks, but more intelligently and funnier. You're like Jimminy the Cricket on acid.

I heart Megan.

I think I have a gland that secretes meth, and I'll explain why. A reasonable chunk of today was spent reading over some old blog entries that Phil directed my way.

It isn't "weird" per se to read someone else's writing from a time long before they knew you, but it's definitely an odd feeling to get a sense of the change in their life. Such activities make a great basis for positive creative mental adventures. In a very real way I wish I could go back three years and meet past-Phil. Three years is a monumental amount of time when you really think about it. Hell, one year is a lot when you consider that 52 weeks, or 365 days, have come and gone. I'm going to summarize this with the sentiment that there is a very humanizing effect to reading someone's thoughts and feelings. Am I allowed to openly say that I'm ridiculously attracted to my boyfriend for his humanity?

Two years ago I started my first blog. It was hosted at endofmorality.com, and since then I have long since let my ownership of the domain expire. My writing only effectively lasted for about one year. Earlier this evening I decided to go digging through my older computer equipment to find Akuma. Akuma was my old Pentium-II 266Mhz web server that housed my own personal memex project.

It didnt' take too long to find the old box, and a few minutes later extract the contents of the harddrive...

I re-read through one year of my experiences from when I was 21/22. The first 40 or so entries I sound.....angry. After thinking about what was going on at the time I think I understand why. If I recall correctly I started that website in the later part of my sophomore year of college. It evolved into my blog sometime over the next year I think. So that means I started writing spring semester of my junior year. I was busy. Really, really busy pretty much 24x7 while school was in session since I was a freshman. So I sound angry because I was super busy, usually was down to my last strand of patience when I was writing, and had too many projects in progress at once.

My body secreted meth, evidently.

Part of my "perspective" problem is I like to apply "today" retroactively. I need to make sure I don't do that. It's bad for my mental health. It's really only since this December/January of THIS year that I've had actual, honest breathing room in 5 years. When I wonder why I wasn't out having crazy sex and drugs (I'm not that pure, but you get the idea) I act like a dork, like perhaps I did the wrong thing with my time. I know that isn't true because I am the sum of my experiences and they're responsible for the badass I am today. Especially the part that knows I'm a badass.

The other thing I forget fairly often that tonight really grounded me on his just how much I accomplished in college. In retrospect, yes, I definitely should have been having more sex and developing my personal life a bit more fully. Statistically speaking, I'm ahead of the curve in that respect as well, but I like to go for the gold in everything. It's the inner damned over achiever.

Normally I don't take to rampant egotism or standing on my soapbox but I'm going to summarize some college accomplishments. You have been warned.

---Unchecked ego follows---

In reality my undergraduate education, with the exception of housing, was free. My award list includes, but is not limited to:
Arizona Regent Scholar
Fluor Foundation Scholar
Honeywell Excellence in Engineering
APC Power Award Recongition

My research as an undergrad was sponsored independently both by the National Science Foundation as well as the local Fulton Undergraduate Research Initiative program. My work with FURI became the template for future semester's of endorsment. Also, to the best of my knowledge, I was the only member of the symposium whose work went on to be published.

I joined a group that wrote a very detailed business proposal to request approximately $13K in venture capital to start a business from the Edson Entrepenuership Initiative during it's inaugural year of support. Our business model was competing against bioengineers, business students, and seasoned vetrans of the semiconductor field.

I joined the honors program at the end of my freshman year and made up a year's worth of honors credits in a semester. I didn't sleep, but the honors academic advisors nearly shit themselves when they saw my transcripts.

Did I mention I graduated with roughly a 3.8 GPA?

My junior year I was inducted into the Tau Beta Pi engineering honors society and was the president during my senior year. I went to two district and one national convention as well as attempt to maintain local operations throughout the year. I still maintain some contact with my former district advisors.

I worked in the Networks and Optimizations Lab for a year. I co-authored and published three papers that were published four times. For those interested, those works are:

Jian Tang, Guoliang Xue, Chris Chandler, Weiyi Zhang; "Interference-aware routing in multihop wireless networks using directional antennas"; IEEE InfoCom '05.

Jian Tang, Guoliang Xue, Chris Chandler; "Interference-Aware Routing and Bandwidth Allocation for QoS Provisioning in Multihop Wireless Networks"; Journal of Wireless Communications & Mobile Computing

Jian Tang, Guoliang Xue, Chris Chandler, Weiyi Zhang; "Link Scheduling with Power Control for Throughput and Fairness Enhancement in Multihop Wireless Networks"; Quality of Service in Heterogeneous Wire/Wireless Networks (QSHINE) '05.

Jian Tang, Guoliang Xue, Chris Chandler, Weiyi Zhang; "Link Scheduling with Power Control for Throughput and Fairness Enhancement in Multihop Wireless Networks"; IEEE Transactions on Vehicular Technology.

I'm still the most proud of the first one. IEEE InfoCom received 1,419 papers and only 250 were selected for publication. That's an acceptance ratio of less than 17% from the international refereed scientific community. Boo-yah.

I worked throughout college. I had jobs at GameStop, the United Studios, three years with Classroom Support, my research post, and one or two other odd jobs in there not counting my present employer (large famous Internet company that prefers not to be named in print) that pays me as a software engineer.

I did other stuff. A lot of other stuff that I just don't have the energy to recant right now.

---End unchecked ego---

Now I remember where my personal development time went....it went toward sleeping. In retrospect it's no wonder people fear me in an academic setting. I have mad-crazy powers like my meth-secreting gland. My first legit scientific achievement came out at 21. No wonder I've been feeling bizarrely retrospective for the last few months. I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself with this much "free" time, and my emotions are getting the chance to run around.

At the advise of the people coordinating my China trip I went and sought preventative medical attention. Initially I called my doctor asking if there were any particular immunizations that I should consider based on where I'll be going. I was subsequently referred to a company called Passport Health that specializes in travel medicine.

I made my appointment with them a week ago to get my private consultation on risks earlier today.

I am now a human pin cushion thanks to all the immunizations they keep onsite. I have just been jammed with needles that are supposed to provide protection from Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, Typhoid, Polio, and Tetanus. They told me I probably wouldn't have to worry about malaria and Japanese encephalitis based on my travel plans and duration of stay.

As a joke I asked the lady giving me shots that if I behaved really well if I could have a sucker. Oh yeah, I so got a sucker.

* It suddenly occurred to me today that I might be some kind of ultra dork because I include a works-cited section in informal blog posts when I quote and/or refer to bodies of works that might be considered references. At the very least I suspect it makes me an academic whore.

* This is precisely why I do not donate to charities of large scale disasters:
Fraudsters steal $1bn of Katrina funds
FEMA Official Casts Doubt on GAO Study
FEMA official comes under fire at Hill hearing on fraud

Over a billion and a half dollars... That's $1,500,000,000 dollars. Just so we're square on the numbers: approximately 1.836 people were killed due to Katrina and there were roughly 484,674 people living in New Orleans. Together that makes about 486,510 people. However, that billion dollars is almost one half of the national AIDS research budget (at least for 2005) which was $2,930,397,000. The international AIDS charity AVERT calculated that 2005 saw roughly 2.8 million deaths due to the HIV pandemic. If budgets were calculated based on approximate number of deaths using ratios and scaling, that means the AIDS budget should really be $2,287,581,699,346.41 or roughly 28% of our ENTIRE NATIONAL DEFICIT valued at $8,380,152,095,212.47. I propose a plan where anyone that saw gain from Hurricane Katrina be sent to sub-Saharan Africa for medical attention and possibly a blood transfusion.

* Is anyone else as scared and irritated as I am of trusted computing and Digital Rights Management??

* I am roughly 24% pure with a weirdness dispersion factor of 33%.

* Tantra is really something I should know.

* I purchased Hitman Blood money legitimately a week ago, and I still haven't sat down to really play it. There are NPCs in a virtual world that need to have a piano wire wrapped around their necks. Why am I not doing that?

* Over the next few days I think I'm going to attempt a more Socratic method of posting. I'm going to try leaving a series of open ended questions to see if anyone is willing to leave comments or thoughts. I used to keep a counter for this page and I know the volume of people that hit it. Surprisingly, very few leave comments.

I'm going to preface this with the fact I am neither a psychologist nor a sociologist. This is mostly an exercise to try to sort some thoughts out and see if anyone else has had similar notions.

The only time I directly think of myself as a gay man is when somebody else reminds me. Generally if I'm thinking to myself I don't inherently internally verbalize it as "I'm a gay man," as much as I simply say "I'm a man that happens to be emotionally/physically/mentally involved with another man." Though none of this should be taken in the sense that I don't identify as being gay, because I assure you I'm as gay as the day is long.

This sense of identity has been on my mind lately since I definitely enjoy doing certain things that are obviously gay, but since I am gay and I don't really care if people pick up on that, I feel strangely liberated doing them. For instance, I've been expanding my culinary horizons lately learning how to prepare various foreign foods that I have no idea how to make. I had to buy a bunch of small cute little spice containers, so that was a fun trip to Crate & Barrel. Naturally I don't own most of the crazy cooking tools I need like a specially textured suribachi , so that was a trip to Sur La Table. Various other things like shopping for hand made hair care products, making happy upbeat small talk with the woman cutting my hair, discussing the reasons why I prefer boot-cut pants for certain shoes, and the list goes on for a really long time.

What I'm getting at is it took me a long time to really become comfortable with most of these things. I used to identify myself as "straight-acting" because so few people would pick up on the fact I was queer. At the time I thought that was the term to use because it seemed to make so much sense. Today I loathe that expression. I'm not straight-acting because I'm not straight, nor do I think there is absolutely anything wrong with being gay. Today I use the term "masculine personality traits," because I value that part of myself and I don't want to give the impression otherwise. There was definitely a time in my life I felt threatened by the possibility that others would perceive me as being stereotypically homo. The idea of being able to cook well, having a respectable sense of colors and fashion, and possibly even being able to dance just weren't on my priority lists. Through the course of time I got over my usual "us and them" mentality and I can now do all of these things without feeling like I've encroached upon my sense of self.

The greatest of these hurdles though, at least I feel, is reconciling the need for male intimacy in all of this. To clarify that statement I am not claiming that I felt like intimacy was damaging or hostile to my sense of self, but rather I did not understand how it related to my sense of self. That is to say, I just didn't understand how it related to the rest of my personality. So many cultural norms are in place to prevent men from expressing themselves or showing weakness that we have very nearly accepted a man's silence as a sign of strength. Women can walk hand in hand and we don't necessarily call them lesbians, at least I don't; but, two men walking hand in hand though are clearly gay. It isn't even so much these visual perceptions that trouble me as much as how gay men have absorbed them from cultural inundation. The ubiquity of the message has simply become the context of our daily lives.

I was digging through links I used to have from way back when, and I came across one that I felt was particularly interesting. The article was related to work on psychotherapy specifically as it related to gay couples undergoing relationship therapy. To sum up the therapists point via a quotation:

For gay men, given our history of trauma, this often means introducing behavior that promotes emotional openness. Couples therapy is often gay men's first opportunity to have their relationship legitimized. It can be deeply moving to see a gay couple experience for the first time what it means to openly express needs for closeness and the desire both to nurture and be nurtured by another man. Therapy can help two men learn how to feel safe with each other, express for perhaps the first time desires to be close, and feel a profound sense of validation in the eyes of another. [1]

It is certainly one thing being domestic, but being able to express emotional vulnerability in the privacy of one's own home for another man... that's a little harder. By a little I mean one metric fuck-ton. The history of my relationships can be summed up rather easily: highly successful, but ultimately short lived. I'm on good terms (or if not "good," definitely not hostile terms) with all the men I've ever dated, and many of them I am still in contact with. My parents did a great job of teaching me emotional management early on, so I feel like I did not have the late teenage - early twenties section of life where I would have got to muddle through my emotions and end up breaking hearts etc. I managed myself a little too well I think. I had all the basics down pat, but I did a spectacularly lousy job of really opening myself up. Maybe it was a fear of rejection or a fear of getting hurt, I'm really not sure. Michael was probably the first person that really nailed me to the wall for my isolating tendencies, and I honestly don't think I ever thanked him for it. My tendencies to sanitize things verbally on accident and create artificial distance.

I wanted to write all of this down because I am fairly sure I've never committed it to writing, much less in a publicly accessibly place. Through the course of writing and recanting my stories I can create a baseline from which I can metric myself on. The quote from above really sums up my feelings rather well. Sitting here reflecting I suspect I've never expressed my need for intimacy to myself in a way that my personality fully absorbs.

The truth is that I want to find balance within the idea of "to nurture and be nurtured by another man." Within my head is a rose-colored-glasses-wearing-hippy idealist that believes in magic, the possibility of happiness for all, and that we are all entitled to our own sunsets on the beach with that special someone. I have an absolute confidence in my ability to kill with my bear hands, but what I want is a sense of supreme vulnerability in the arms of a man. I want the great nights out on the town partying with friends, but I also want nights letting a boy cathartically cry his eyes out in my arms when he's hurting. All at once I want someone to delicately handle my insecurities, quirks, and oddities while at the same time giving me the opportunity to do the same in return. That's really what love is, the mutual vulnerability of handing the power of emotional nuclear annihilation over to someone else and trusting that they won't use it against you.

Maybe it's just my own deeply rooted sense of protective nurturing that I wish I could dry every tear, soothe every pain, and wash away every emotional scar someone else has. It's possible this is why my personality archetype is called "The healer." Luckily though, our realities can be shaped and we can affect the outcomes of our days through transforming our thoughts to actions and never letting opportunities of sharing ourselves with those whom we love slip by unnoticed.

Perhaps I'm crazy. Perhaps I'm too much of an idealist. Perhaps I'm too much of many things and not enough of others, but giving life everything I've got counts for something...and even if it doesn't, I'm still going to do it. Life is great and I plan to make sure it only gets better.

[1] - Greenan, David E., PhD; "Do Open Relationships Work? Gay Couples and the Question of Monogamy"; Psychotherapy Networker, V. 27, No. 3; 2003.

* All rights reserved by original authors

So yeah, that lasted for three days. To quote Phil, "Ewww, you smell like a vegan." My previous question of "will my body start detoxing," can be answered with an affirmative "yes." I could certainly detect that my usual Chris-smell wasn't quite right, but I didn't suspect it was going to be a powerful enough change as to be both immediately detectable, but also immediately tastable. It was fun while it lasted. Wait, no it wasn't... It was extremely limiting actually.

Once again another awesome weekend has come and gone. I swear these things are way too short. Somebody needs to spend the necessary amount of effort to increase the week to eight days so we can insert another one either between Saturday and Sunday, or immediately after Sunday. That way every week is a three day weekend.

Saturday also involved my first foray into Thai cooking. The target meal was Thai red curry chicken with bamboo shoots, and luckily I was almost spot on. I think? Whatever I created it ended up matching the recipe and was pretty good (at least in my opinion, especially for a first try). I'll spare the story of how difficult it was tracking most of the ingredients down, but suffice it to say that I spent the better part of three hours running between various grociery stores looking for everything. The only particularly bizarre note would be locating red chilles. Living in Arizona you would think these are readily available just about everywhere. Nope, not even close. The only place I found that carried them in any quantity was AJ's, and even they only had like 9-10 at a time. Craziness.

I have a story that I enjoy using to explain to people why I don't eat a lot of sugar or why sweet food really makes me sick to my stomach. The jist is that my mom was diagnosed hypoglycemic when I was about six, and magically all the sugar in our house evaporated while she learned to adjust her diet so she would feel better. The funny thing is that she really did start feeling better and simultaneously set the course of my eating habits.

Almost two years ago I started buying organic foods and started leading myself away from more processed meals. My standard diet includes no McDonalds, Wendy's, Jack in the box, KFC, Carl's Junior, etc. I do however periodically eat at Panda Express, but even there it's steamed rice, vegetables, and usually some side of chicken. The biggest difference I noted when I started introducing these foods into my diet was that I started feeling better almost immediately. More energy, more vitality, and just a general happier sense of self and mind.

Now when I'm not feeling good or my moods are taking sharp turns I can usually attribute it to poor eating habits. By "poor" I mean not eating as much organic fruit and instead having a Samurai Sam's rice bowl for lunch with nothing else or going out and drinking with cheap Mexican food at 2:30am. My body has become accustomed to having a reasonable amount of foods that are only found in Sunflower Markets and Wild Oats.

A quick survey of my desk here at work shows that I eat: papaya spears, guayaki yerba mate energy drink, edamame & pinto salad, green lentil salad, organic bananas, thompson organic raisins, dried cranberries, and some high-fiber cerial. Not to mention my own supply of Thai and various green tea leaves.

This week has been a weird set of mood swings for me that I have not appreciated on any level. Thinking back I suspect that my eating went to shit either some point toward the end of the weekend and/or on Monday. Time to get everything back exactly where I think it's supposed to be.

In a combination of curiosity and desire to eat even better I'm going to attempt to be a raw foodist for the next couple days and see how it goes. No meat, no saturated fats, nothing processed. I'm particularly interested to see if my body starts detoxing.

Somedays I feel like such a little kid, especially days where I write things like my previous entry. Those are the days when I feel angst-ridden. It's almost as if I did not experience the necessary life quota in high school and I am forced to make up for it now in the form of periodically unscheduled introspection.

These introspective cycles take the following form: happiness, surprise emotion, dog-shit like state, semi-depressed, laughing recovering stage wondering what the previous ones were about and why they hit me so hard, and lastly remembering that I rock.

The surprise emotion state that usually kicks these fuckers off is 99% of the time due to me forgetting that it is relatively impossible to compare apples to elephants. I have a remarkably easy time losing my perspective on matters when my energies are divided. In particular I forget everyone starts "somewhere" on any given matter, and only through the course of time and experience can we move from "here" to "there."

Nobody has my unique set of experiences just as I don't have theirs. This statement has given me more grief over the years than just about anything else. Granted, it's helped lead me down the path that I'm on. I strived to work on the same level as the other Ph.Ds when I worked in a lab, and consequently I performed exceptionally well. At work I keep pace with all the senior engineers and my work reflects that dedication.

The problem is I assume that I can automatically keep pace in these situations when that may simply not be the case. Chris has to move at Chris pace and no other. When I run at a speed I'm not necessarily meant to running at presently, then I lose my footing. Slow the mind down and let the feet get their gription back.

Nothing has the same grounding effect as a kiss on the forehead, an "I love you," and one of those whole body hugs. Undoubtedly one day I will look back on these notes and pleasantly smile at things that once bothered me because one day I'll be a little more experienced.

Until then I'm going to play with some Legos and enjoy the ride... One day at a time.

Do you ever notice little behavioral trends you get into under certain situations? I'm generally pretty good at identifying mine and I know I'm about to do something silly when I recognize certain things cropping up.

For instance, there's only one set of circumstances where I became self-conscious. I don't mind making displays in public, I had a really nasty mock-brakeup with Mika years ago in the heart of six flags, I play DDR in front of coworkers, I wear a kilt in public, I've been to fetish proms and other things most people won't due for any number of reasons. The only time I'm really self-conscious is when I feel like I've got something to lose. Also generally true to form, "something" is really "someone."

I don't feel bad about being self-conscious from time to time because I think it's part of what makes me adaptable. It leads to periods of introspection and revaluation where I can step back for a second and make sure things are on track. One of these days I'm going to need to branch out and make some more friends in the areas that I'm interested in. I wished I had more friends that had some of the same personal expansion goals that I have.

Either way, thank you Phil for being supportive and patient with me.