Highly deletable blog duly deleted.

Maybe I should follow my own advice.

I often find that I advise people on the best way of doing things, and it's the exact opposite of what I do. For instance, if you're attracted to a girl, go after her. That's the advice. What I do? Because of what she has come to represent in my mind, once I acknowledge the attraction, I avoid her. The thought of confronting the possibility of rejection is too much. I tell myself "you can't hit a home run without swinging the bat," but in that particular batter's box I may as well be a lifetime American League pitcher (OK, probably not everyone will get that analogy).

I say all this because I don't want to appear to be a hypocrite about it. It's difficult to practice what you preach sometimes.

There is a girl I work with who worked there before, left for about a year and a half and came back about a week ago. I really liked her the first time around, and I think I like her more now.
She seemed maybe a little too young then. Now she really seems kind of perfect. I did want to date her then. I'm reluctant to date co-workers, because I've done that with mixed results. But now that she's back, it's like a second chance. She definitely likes me, but I think it's just in a friend way. But that can always evolve ...

Life is largely a series of disappointments, and perhaps it's better to get them out of the way. So maybe I should ask her out and know one way or the other.

Thanksgiving, and the kids were there. One told me my car was lame. Another kicked me in the leg, right at the bottom of my thigh muscle, and it hurt like hell. I had to pull some wrestling moves on him. Another told me I have a bad haircut. Another wasn't real sure who I was at first. My nieces and nephew were a pain in the ass.

But on Saturday, when I wasn't going to see them again, I was walking out the door, and every single one of them came up and gave me a hug of their own accord. Their mom didn't say, give your uncle a hug, they just did. Even the 15-year-old, lone male son gave me a sideways, one-arm hug. Ah, hell, I love those annoying brats.

I just deleted a big blog that was largely complaining and self-absorbed crap. I got it out of my system.

We had a Thanksgiving meal at work today. I've been told that the reason for having it on Tuesday is that most people don't work on Thanksgiving or the following weekend. Well, the rest of us poor saps got free food, too, so that works. The turkey, however, was ... what's the word? Let's see ... Bad. That's the word. It was bad. In fact, one co-worker told me later that it made her cat sick.

The meeting room that served as our dining hall was all decorated for the holiday. Except the holiday it was decorated for was Christmas. We deduced that having one set of decorations for both holidays saves the company money. But we all got together and ate. We didn't even bitch all that much. I'll be honest, though, as free as it was, none of the food was that good. The thing is, besides the turkey and dressing, people who work there bring in the food. So you expect a little inspiration given the creativity of people who work there. Usually there's a couple of things that you're like, "Wow, who made THIS?" Not so much this year.

I kind of think no one gives a shit anymore. I know I don't.

Despite the food not being good, I ate too much. If nothing else, there was a lot of it, and I'm not used to that. You should see my refrigerator. No, you shouldn't.

But Thanksgiving week is pretty easy to handle, with the free food and whatnot. I'll see my sister and my new niece Thursday. Plus the rest of her kids. She's really compensated for my lack of offspring.

That's it for me for now. Enjoy all the turkey, and happy perving.

OK, here's a song for you. Not written by me, but by Colin Meloy of The Decemberists. It has a lot of numbers, and I don't know the significance of that. It also seems to be critical of, simultaneously, the war in Iraq and the Hollywood stars who criticize it. I've just been curious about this song, because The Decemberists are not typically political. Maybe the cannibal part is the only reason it really exists. I'm also bored and can't sleep. so humor me.

Sixteen military wives
Thirty-two softly focused, brightly colored eyes
Staring at the natural tan
of 32 gently clinching, wrinkled little hands.
Seventeen company men
Out of which only 12 will make it back again.
Sergeant sends a letter to five
Military wives, his tears drip down from 10 little eyes.

Cheer them on to their rivals

(chorus)
'Cause America can, and America can't say no
And America does if America says it's so
It's so.
And the anchorperson on TV
Goes la-di-da-di-da

Fifteen celebrity mimes
Leading their 15 sordid, wretched, checkered lives.
Will they find the solution in time?
Using their 15 pristine, moderate, liberal minds?
18 Academy chairs,
Out of which only seven even really cares
Doling out a (goldy? [like an Oscar?]) to five
Celebrity mimes,
They're humbly taken by surprise.

Cheer them on to their rivals

(Chorus, with la-di-da-di-da-da-diddy-dada-da added, and repeated, not that it matters)

Fourteen cannibal kings
Wondering blindly what the dinner bell will bring
Fifteen celebrity mimes
Served on a leafy bed to 16 military wives

Cheer them on to their rivals ... etc.

What I'm really wondering is who the cannibal kings represent. Is it the administration? Is the song just a whimsical way to skewer the left and right at the same time? Or are the cannibal kings the ones who want to kill all of us, including our celebrities? There are a lot of ways to look at it, I realized as I listened to it just now.

p.s. Colin Meloy is American

You walk in, and everything looks about the same. There's the back of his head, and there she is standing and talking. As always, talking. There are faces that have a look of concentration as they stare at their computer screen that says, "Leave me alone." You know the look because you wear it often enough. Others are on the phone or leaned back in their chair watching TV. It's all like a movie you've seen before, the scenes playing out just as you remember. As you walk into it, you are suddenly a part of it, like a background in a painting. You fill in that empty spot that was hanging there, albeit unnoticed, in your absence. Once the spot is filled in, there is a very small satisfaction and a much more pressing disappointment, as if you wished the movie would end differently. Maybe the girl doesn't die at the end. Maybe everybody dies. Maybe no one dies but someone learns something in a profound way. But things keep churning in their mundane way, and you negotiate and commiserate and try to catch the eye of a girl you have an eye for. Things break down and you patch them up. You learn things and forget things and sink further into a bog of misunderstanding, or simply not understanding. You think: Her brown eyes. She does have brown eyes, dark brown eyes. Mysterious. All that really matters is finding out what's behind them. That's all that really matters.

Tuesday, there was a call to the newsroom about a car with a flat tire. The guy taking the call yelled out the color, make and model of the car. Interestingly enough, it was the same color, make and model of my car. I was too busy to worry about it, so I waited until I got off work. Two of my co-workers basically watched as I changed my tire to put on the doughnut in my trunk. I did appreciate the moral support, because doing it is bad enough, but doing it alone really sucks. And actually, one of them located the nail in my tire that caused it to go flat.

So the next day, I get the leak plugged. No worries. I put the repaired tire back on the car. But then the tire went flat as I was driving home and I had to put the doughnut back on just to get home. The tire was ruined because I kept driving despite knowing it was going flat. Yeah, bad idea, but it was 1 a.m. and I didn't feel like stopping. I don't live in a bad part of town, exactly, but it's close to bad parts, so I kept going through the shady areas until I got to an all-night drugstore.

The next day, another tire had gone flat. It had a nail in it, too. I ran over a shitload of nails, apparently.

It always happens all at once, doesn't it? Shit happens, as a co-worker so sympathetically told me. But it does kind of beat up on you when it happens, because it keeps happening. And then you're fine for a while again.

I've been smiling through all of it, though, really. Because I can deal with it, and the seeming absurdity of it is really pretty amusing.

So I went into work thinking I was going to get off early (11 p.m. being early). No such luck, it turns out. A co-worker with a sick child basically led to me adding on another shift. The shifts overlap, so it was only a couple extra hours. So I didn't grumble or complain ... too much.

I have to wonder sometimes if I'm just too complacent and glad to have a job. I'm skilled at what I do. I probably shouldn't be fucked over simply because I'm able to do so many different things. But that's how it works. I don't get any more money, and most likely less, than the guy who calls in sick all the time, or the one who is so inept that the only thing the company knows to do is to promote him to a position where he can do less damage.

I don't mind working hard. I actually welcome it. I don't like having nothing to do. The busier you are, the faster the day goes, after all. But being punished for not being a slack-ass gets old. Which is why I should probably find another job. Not even probably. I need to get another job.

So it was Halloween. I ate some Halloween candy. Among other things, I ate a Butterfinger. What the hell is that in the middle of a Butterfinger? It does, indeed, taste very good. But what the fuck is it? Why is it crunchy? Does it have any relation to anything that occurs naturally? It scares me. Creeps me out. So it's the perfect Halloween food, I guess.

I really thought there would be more of a push down here to make Halloween more of a Tuesday or Thursday activity. This is the Bible Belt, and Wednesday is a church night. You usually hear more outcry against Halloween. Maybe this little piece of shit city I live in is actually becoming sophisticated enough to accept Halloween.

Then again, maybe no one does trick or treat anymore at all because of the rising crime rate here. And that's sad.

It's interesting how pagan holidays have endured in Western culture. Even Easter and Christmas have pagan origins, or at least incorporate them. It's really just the same old thing over and over, and it's in many cultures. Spring is fertility time (why kids hunt for eggs) and winter is a time of rationing (so we give thanks for what we have before it starts.) Halloween, though, that one is kind of weird. It might be the most spiritual, at least in a literal sense.

After Halloween starts the spiritual malaise that many people encounter during the holiday season. I've been a victim of it myself. Perhaps Halloween is when you're supposed to make your peace with the dead. Not at Lent, but at All Hallow's Eve. That's just a thought from a heathen.

I always feel, when the weather is changing like it is now, that there is some possibility for great times and some possibility of catastrophe. I guess I always equated it with school just beginning, starting to know new people, learning who I need to avoid and finding out which girls might be cool. These days it's more of the same as the rest of the year, but I still get that feeling. I get nostalgic. I start to miss friends, think about people I haven't seen in years.

It's an odd time. I don't know where I stand with a lot of people, but overall I'm pretty comfortable. I have the urge to smoke pot and do hallucinogenic drugs. I want to meet a strange girl whose hair smells like smoke and make out in a dark corner. That first feel, as your hand slides over the curve of her ass, eyes closed, purely feeling, constructing the shape with wandering hands. That pleasure in feeling that it's as firm as your eye judged. Making contact with flesh as yet unseen as you grow bolder. Feeling the tightening and swelling of a nipple as it meets your hand ...

I probably just need to get laid, huh? I'll work on that.