I do believe it is time again to write. This shall be a post without commas.

I'm not sure I could even bring myself to post such an atrocity even if I wanted to. Ew. I mean really. Ew.

This is attempt number two. It's bad writing to mention mundane things like that, though. Who of you really cares that I started writing a post earlier, and now, since it was lame writing and half finished, will be discarded? Therefore I resolve in the new year to not mention writing you shall never see. A bold gesture, to be certain. How many of you would state such on a public blog? Never mind that you don't have a public blog, and even if you did, you'd probably not have this particular writing impediment in the first place. The answer remains probably none of you!

There is a lot to cover from the last two months, and doubtless, I've forgotten most of what I wish to convey. This has indeed been a thought-filled blogless span.

Pandora is playing in the background. It's been a long time since I've really listened to music anywhere but the car. In junior high and high school, I listened to music almost constantly when on my computer. In college, I didn't like wearing headphones and Swood and I didn't often play music when the other was in the room, which was most of the time. After I got out of the habit, it somehow became distracting.

Recently, I've tried to branch out in my musical selection, inspired by several influences, but primarily Vin, I think. I figured Pandora would be the best way to find stuff similar to what I already like. What I like is becoming an ever-shrinking subset of what I have. There's some music that I'll always love, because it is genuinely good, even timeless, like Rich Mullins. His music doesn't sound like the 90s like Michael W. Smith's 90s stuff does. I'll always have a soft spot for Christian classic rock and roll, too, like early Phillips, Craig, and Dean. But a lot of what I have, or used to love, just sounds immature to me now. I don't really like songs "for the lyrics" like I used to.

Ok, seriously Pandora? This is the eighth time you've played What Child Is This today. I don't care that they're all different artists. Special case this as Christmas music and realize songs with the same name are the same songs. End rant.

Anyway, the day after Thanksgiving, I visited Alexander, and before I headed back up to Redmond, I downloaded the Pandora app for my phone. The first channel I tried was "Seabird." It did a good job giving me what I like, I'll admit. Most of it was The Fray and Seabird, with one or two from Jars of Clay. This, however, is not what I was looking for. I wanted to branch out -- not hear music I already knew I liked. I remember when Pandora first came out. I had the opposite problem. It didn't distinguish Christian from mainstream music, and it couldn't figure out that I was looking for contemporary Christian. Now I can't avoid it. It did better when I entered "Work by Jars of Clay" rather than just "Jars of Clay," since Work isn't one of those songs they play on Spirit1053. By the way, that album is still one of my favorites, especially Work and All My Tears. Should anyone reading this live to attend my eventual funeral, I want All My Tears played there. So weep not, for me my friend when my time below does end for my life belongs to him who will raise the dead again. After some wikipedia queries, it appears the song was originally written by Emmylou Harris. The Jars of Clay cover is better. So, yeah.

Vin, as I've not talked about her here before, is a girl from CCF I always deeply admired. She and I ever only talked briefly when we did at all. But I could always tell she was consistently genuine in her life. And she loves and cares about people. That much is evident even from a distance. I wrote this description in post attempt one: There was a girl I've thought was absolutely beautiful since I met her. She's meek and funny and smart and a good writer. She's got cuteness all over. I knew her from CCF, and she was one of the people who hung out all the time with the group of people who hung out all the time, and I never really got involved with that group. I still can't decide whether I regret that apathy or not, but there's not a whole lot of use in regret in this case. One day in May or June, I got a facebook broadcast mission trip support letter from her, and so we got to talking. It turned out we had quite a bit in common, from upbringing and family life, to comedic snobstitude. It turns out she and I have a lot in common as far as pasts go, among other things. We share a similar sense of humor--Demetri Martin, South Park, Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, and a mutual hit-and-miss feeling for Family Guy--as well as snobbiness about writing and music. At first, in July, I honestly did just want to be friends, but soon I had a crush on her. I swore to myself and friends that this girl was different, and I still believe she is as a person, but perhaps not as a crush. It was humbling, after she left on her mission trip, to realize how blinded by infatuation I can still get. Don't get me wrong, she's a wonderful girl, and any guy, myself included, would be lucky to have her someday, but at the moment, that's not feasible, and I don't have those kind of feelings for her. I should quit here. This is spiraling in and downward, not up, up and away to the next paragraph.

A month or two ago, my mom's cousin emailed me requesting a locally produced CD. Apparently he likes to listen to a Seattle radio station when he visits, and it produces a CD each year with the best songs it played. It's only sold at Starbucks in the area, so he asked me to get it and send it to him. I bought it within a few days, but it took me until this past Saturday to finally get it mailed. I don't know why. I just couldn't. There are some things I just can't do. It was the same feeling I got when I needed to apply for scholarships, and I just couldn't make myself do it. It's not like I didn't want to get the money, or that they were particularly challenging, but I couldn't bring myself to sit down and do it. I was afraid to, for some reason. I hate that about me.

My mom gave me my favorite chair that we'd had my whole life for my birthday a year and a half ago. The cats over the years had destroyed the back, so we picked out fabric and she recovered it. Since she was working on her masters and getting married and her normal level of school work, not to mention getting the house ready to sell and dealing with the divorce, it took a year for that covering job to be completed, and I got my chair the day I began working at Fir Creek back in July. All of this should be old news to you loyal readers, who I'm sure have read and reread each of these entries at least once per entry after it, just to make sure you don't miss any of the key plot. Anyway, my cats have destroyed the back of this chair to a far worse state than the original covering. They've pulled the back halfway off, and frayed the edges of it so it can't be tacked back together. I finally figured out a stopgap, and put my white board right behind my chair and held up by the bookcase behind it, which makes the bottom half of my bookcase nearly inaccessible, but I didn't use that half often anyway. This paragraph is only relevant because right now, I'm using that whiteboard as a desk across my tub. It was tricky to figure out how to keep it from slipping off the thin lip on the walled side of the tub, but pushing a chair up against the overhanging edge seems to do the trick.

None of this, however, is really that relevant to these past couple months. I don't know why I'm stalling.

Denna and I have always been flirty, even since we broke up over a year ago. It's just fun, and harmless, and relaxing. I was having a particularly rough November, and one night it came up that I hadn't seen Donnie Darko. That night I was also feeling particularly out of touch, literally, and Denna suggested I should fly to Texas and promised me a movie, popcorn, and a cuddle buddy. That sounded like a good idea, and I hadn't seen her in six months, which is a shame considering we talk almost every day, even if only to say hi.

Meanwhile, Bill began organizing a trip to Costa Rica and invited me on it, as well as to finance a large portion of it. When he and I went to Jamaica, I had been offered my job at Microsoft the day we flew out. I was super excited, and hoped to live on $35 grand a year, giving most of the rest away, so he was holding me accountable to that. It turns out that $35k was an unrealistic goal, but I still do have the ability to give significantly, so I am glad he asked me. On top of that, Microsoft will match whatever I give toward the trip, so it's super-effective!

I pledged to give a significant amount toward the trip, but the exact figure was still up in the air. Also, I was wavering on whether I wanted to go on the trip or not. I did, but I didn't, but I did. It really depended on my mood, and my mood fluctuates irrationally since my pills don't work anymore. In fact, I ran out of pills, easing myself off them as I was told I could. Part of the thing that kept me from going was whether I could actually afford to. And I was worried that if I went to Texas, I couldn't afford to give as much toward the trip. But I really wanted to go to Texas. And if I couldn't afford to fly to Texas, what business do I have donating ten times that much toward the trip? One night, I just said screw it, and bought the tickets. Bing Travel is amazingly accurate at predicting plane ticket prices. The first night, it recommended buying then because prices would rise $50+. I thought that meant like within the next week. The next day they were up $52. The new prediction was +$100, so I bought then and there. After that, I felt completely free to go on the Costa Rica trip.

The longer it's been since I posted last, the more I've come to think I was wrong about Heaven. I read the first two chapters of that book I mentioned. I'll finish it, but I've got a couple others on the stack that I'm now in the middle of. For one, my, and I'll wager your, image of heaven is greatly contorted. It's not at all harps, halos, and clouds. It's supposed to be earth as it was meant to be, what God originally envisioned before the fall. There will be perfect justice with no sin and thus no wrath. People reap exactly what they sow. Everything bad about this earth will be fixed -- not gone, instead made new, made perfect. This is good news and something to look forward to, and something to live for now. I misrepresented what the pastor meant when he said, "No one runs a marathon for the shirt." As often happens when a new, big idea breaks into my head, I get a little obsessed and ask a lot of questions. For instance, Jesus says in Matthew that there is no marriage in heaven (besides that of the church to Christ). If heaven is earth as it was meant to be, does that mean that marriage was sort of a patch to keep us safe in this fallen world? There were animals in the Garden of Eden. It follows then that there will be animals in heaven. Will our pets from this earth be there? I'd always assumed no. Now I wonder.

When I purchased my tickets, I picked them as close to the front of the plane as possible, even though that put me in a middle seat each way. I've found that one of the things I hate most about flying is waiting to get off the plane. I think this hatred stems from many years of traveling with kids, and out of courtesy, waiting for everyone without kids to get off first. When I travel, if I can avoid it, I don't check any bags, so it actually does help me to get off the plane quicker, since I don't have to wait for baggage claim, like everyone else, otherwise I probably wouldn't care.

Something went wrong when I booked, though. I got a couple emails about it, saying I needed to call them or look online. I did both. On the phone, I couldn't get ahold of a person, but the recording said my tickets were fine. I got another email, and checked online this time, and the status was booked and purchased, so I assumed there was a bug elsewhere.

On Friday, I got to the airport, and the self checkout said there was an error, so I stood in the one-person line at the full service desk. I guess I didn't write my address correctly for my credit card, or something, so he set me up, and I ended up second or third row from the front on the aisle, so that was awesome. Until I realized that it cost me $30 for service at the airport. Nickel and diming you, I tell ya. I discovered another peeve, or rather rediscovered, because I know I blogged about this after or during my Australia trip, centered around planes, and that's that people disobey the people who tell you when to board. "Now boarding group one." Ah yes, I'm in group six. That must mean me. My justice sense (for which I really need a good made up word, possibly a port manteau -- yes, I'm officially accepting ideas in the comments section) alone is enough to increase my blood pressure a little, but the real issue, I found this trip, is that the overhead carryon space gets taken up by people who cheat, and then I have to put my bag further back, which means now after the plane lands, I have to get back, and then back forward, which probably costs me more time in the long run, than just choosing a seat further back.

I needed the trip, itself, even if it wasn't that great. Had I not gone, I probably would have driven myself a little crazy. I'd also have had a lot harder time agreeing to go to Costa Rica. Denna and her roommate Cindy, both, were not in the happiest places in life, and there's not really a lot anyone can do about that. Denna's ex-boyfriend who proposed to her at one point had just died in the Iraq War. Anyway, when she had promised a movie, popcorn, and a cuddle buddy, that's about what I expected, and it didn't happen. We're not as flirty in person as we are over SMS, for one.

We toured the Bodies Exhibit on Saturday. That was difficult. The first thing they show you is a knee with bone cancer. Why that? I do fine with bones and muscles, but split a bone or brain and I get a little queazy. Even the word "marrow" makes my skin crawl. Oddly, the one part I did enjoy, was the fetus section. It was the one part that seemed to celebrate life. The rest seemed to me to be macabre.

On the trip home, the self check-in did work, but there was a big button for changing my seat, so I pushed it, just to see if there were any better. There was one, two rows back from where I'd originally chosen, that was in an aisle. I figured the tradeoff was worth it. The plane was late, and then I boarded when I was supposed to, when groups five and six were called together (I was group five). I got to my seat, and a woman approached me, asking if I was perchance traveling alone. I said I was, and she asked if she could have my seat, since otherwise she couldn't sit next to her husband. I caved, and ended up nine rows further back with a window seat. For a while it looked like I'd have a seat between the aisle guy and me, but the last person to seat herself sat between us. There's an empty seat immediately behind her, but she's sitting next to her husband, so it's not like I can blame her. It took me a good twenty minutes to depart the plane, compared to what should have been five to ten minutes in the seat I booked. The moral of the story is nice guys finish last.

I talked to my dad for the first time in well over a year sometime in October. He facebook stalked me and wrote me a message, which I'm sure he felt heartfelt. I could still see the underlying manipulation, and his ever-selfish attitude, evidencing that he has not changed, so I wrote him a terse response. Within a few hours, I had a second message on the thread. If you give a mouse a cookie. I didn't give him milk.

There's a new story that I've told probably fifty times now, because I was so excited. I went into the Company Store for a couple copies of Windows 7. I was a few moments too late, as the guy in front of me got the last copy of Professional, so I just sucked it up and spent the extra $10 for Ultimate. I stood in line, head down as I wrote my employee ID on each of the boxes. A femme called me to the counter, and I passed the two boxes over to her. When I looked up I was stunned. Like, I can't explain it other than that one if summed up all the other cute things on the earth, kittens and baby seals and everything, she'd still be a little cuter. We shared a little small talk. She asked if I was doing anything fun that evening, and I told her I was going down to Swood's like every Friday night. I asked her the same, and she frowned and said she had to work, but that her sister was in town for the weekend, so she was looking forward to that. I left the store and immediately texted Denna and Athena about the development.

I started heading south, and hit heavier traffic than I've been in there. Traffic began a mile or two before the I-405 exit, and then was solid until exit 7 or so. I was in it for about an hour, the whole while thinking, "I should turn around and go get her number." I'd never been so close to doing it either. Usually those thoughts are just a silly fantasy, but this night they were urges. Eventually I decided by the time I got back, the store would be closed anyway. Or if it weren't, what was I going to do? Wait around until it wasn't busy, or until it closed and run after her or something? I looked at the receipt because sometimes those have a name on them. All it said was "cashier 10 register 3." I got to Swood's apartment's parking lot, and sat there for a few minutes, deciding what to do. I pulled out my phone and looked up the number of the company store. Then I spent another five minutes with my finger hovering over the call button, having to press around it so the phone wouldn't enter sleep mode. I finally decided I had nothing to lose and everything to gain, and without thinking, sent the call. An older woman picked up, and I told her I was trying to get ahold of the cashier I had that night, and wondered if she knew who "cashier 10" was. She asked me if I knew the person's name because the numbers aren't bound. I said I didn't, so she asked at what time, and I told her 6:00. Twenty seconds later, a giggling girl picked up the phone. I fumbled some words out including "I can't believe I'm doing this" and asked for her name and number. She hesitated and asked for my name, which I gave. I told her I understood if she didn't want to give me it, then she paused and said "sure why not?" I wrote it down, and then asked again for her name. Then we hung up (or so I assume; I don't really remember much more of that night except that I couldn't eat).

Saturday began, and I called her around 1:30, expecting her to pick up and say she was with her sister, and then to get a better time to call. I got the generic Verizon voicemail message. I left my number and told her I'd like to grab coffee with her sometime. I started to get a little anxious, but not overly so, about whether she gave me her real number or not. On Sunday, she texted me. She apologized for not getting back to me the day prior--her sister was in town so they were hanging out--then asked how old I was. I was relieved three ways at once. First, that meant I didn't get the number wrong nor did she give me a fake one. Second, she was indeed my cashier, unless two cashiers had their sisters in town on the same weekend and were excited enough to mention it to perfect strangers. Third, I couldn't tell for sure how old she was when I saw her. To tell the truth, I couldn't remember what she looked like. I remember how I felt when I saw her, but I don't remember almost any features. I remember thinking she looked between 18 and 21, but I couldn't be sure. Besides, I'm really bad at guessing people's ages. Since she asked me, I could ask her. I told her how old I was, having briefly considered the "I'm 35, happily married with 2.5 kids" response, and quickly discarding it. She told me she was 21, which is perfect. So then we set up coffee for the following Saturday at 10:00.

I was good and didn't contact her at all for the whole week. Saturday morning, I got there at 9:50. I sat there for a while. Eventually I texted her, describing my attire, in case she saw me and I didn't recognize her. Around 10:15, I walked out of Starbucks and called her, getting her voicemail. At 10:30, one of the Starbucks workers asked if I was waiting for someone. I told her that I was, but that I was beginning to suspect I was being stood up, so I purchased my hot chocolate then. At 10:40, she texted me, saying she was really sorry, that she had been sick all week and had just gotten out of the doctor's office. She'd meant to call me the night prior to cancel, but was so exhausted that she fell asleep. I asked if she wanted to reschedule, and she said yes and that she'd contact me the next day to tell me how she was feeling. We had a short, playful conversation after that, and then said goodbye.

Sunday came and went, and she didn't text me. Thursday came, and I decided that it was time to throw in the towel, sending her a rather epic text message, which left the possibility of a future date open, should she ever change her mind.

I'd been a bit excited because, had it worked out, this would have been the first girl I'd dated within 2 years and 20 miles of me since my first girlfriend. But it didn't work out. Now a month later, my PM, against my expressed wishes, went to the company store and asked about her. They told him that the day before had been her last day and she had moved back to Utah for school at BYU. He told me this a few days later, and I texted her again (breaking my vow of silence) to confirm this story (he might pull this as a prank), which she did. She's rather witty, which makes this one potential relationship loss sting a little more than normal. I like when people pick up on something and run with it. Sure, she could be a friend who was witty, and that'd be fun, but it'd also be hard and edged with a tinge of regret.

This past weekend, Fircreek had a reunion Christmas party, and a bunch of us met at Bubba's house. It was good for the most part, but I'm still forming thoughts on it. Relationships were strained, or so I understand, by the end of the summer, and people from all factions were present. I may have been a little short with one of the guys, when he tried to belittle SQL Azure and asked, "One gig? Why wouldn't you just get a flash drive?"

After the party, I drove Mangofiki home, and then headed to Bill's. He was up with his girlfriend in his room discussing a book, but I hung out with a couple of his housemates and Courtney. Poor Courtney had a computer virus and was running XP Media Center 2005. I tried everything I could think of, including bittorrenting the Windows ISO (which she had rights to and a CD key), but the version I downloaded was SP2 rather than the original 2005 version or something, and the key didn't work. On top of that, the virus was still there, despite overwriting all the Windows files. The whole night, I was on a roll with over-the-top sexist comments. I'm pretty sure Courtney would have punched me a few times, were I not working diligently toward her computer's recovery. The guy between us got punched for nodding at one of my comments. Alas, I didn't succeed at getting the machine working, but at least she can log on now. Courtney is going on the Costa Rica trip with us, so I'm sure I'll get to know her much better in the months to come.

That's not nearly half of what I have to write, but it's what's getting posted tonight. Maybe I'll write more later this week, or maybe you'll have to wait until January or February. Sucks to be you.