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Diarya

I learned something from the movie, Parenthood (1989):

“When you’re sliding into first, and you’re feeling something burst … “

“When you’re sliding into third, and you feel a juicy turd … “

“When you’re sliding into home, and your pants are full of foam … “

Diarrhea

Wave the white flag. I surrender.

So, it’s November 30th, and that means that this month-long challenge comes to a close. However, I failed. You win, Debbie. I was going to skip Thanksgiving, because of it simply being a holiday. But the day after was filled with 2TG and a Syracuse Improv Collective Bank Show. Sunday: was a day of relaxing and a date.

Next thing I know: today arrives. Three days lie idle and without updates. Hence, the internal debate.

One of my pet peeves was not to allow this blog to sound like a diary. Unfortunately, with blogging, sometimes this tone is inevitable. There always has been a desire to sift out crap content, which is also inevitable. All posts are not going to be gems. As writers, we have to accept this.

Hence, the title of this post: Diarya. It does sound and look like a pretty name for a girl. Unfortunately, it is not so.

Then some of the posts were written just to be written. The content sounds like verbal diarrhea with empty passion. Writer’s block — the immortal arch nemesis — cannot be driven around so easily. It’s extremely difficult to pass head-on and straight through it.

Sacrifices had to be made. When focusing on trying to beat a post out of myself, this took away time from actually reading everyone else’s updates. I don’t like playing catch up. It’s a pain in the ass, because it’s also time consuming. And, I can’t let writing consume my

So, I’m going to continue with the posts. When alluding to a quote by Thoreau, these writing updates will have to come in the moment, written down instead of remembered, because trying to recollect thoughts afterwards, after that moment of “genius” has passed, is not pure and intention is easily forgotten. It’s the mental diarrhea that you have to catch and collect.

Hence, the disappearance of Sunday Observations. I really screwed that one up.

And I’ll end with one question, which is somewhat irrelevant, but it pertains to writing and persistence:

How many of you actually wrote your novel for NaNoWriMo, had it effectively edited, designed a decent non-hokey cover, and actually published the damned thing within a month’s time?

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Psyching

I had a great job interview yesterday. It went well, and I was pleasantly nervous. The conversation lasted an hour and a half. That’s a good thing. Right? It’s only a part-time position, and that’s not a bad thing. Every step is a step in the right direction. Especially if the job pertains to something I’m passionate about.

It was a sunny day. Beautiful, in fact.

It was just odd getting there … to where I had to go. I knew the location of the interview, but it looked different from the last time I was in there. The building seemed taller. At least it was a sunny, glorious day when I looked up at the top. Just imagine the first-person cinematography, the point of view angle looking up at the top of the building as feet cross the street. The feet aren’t focused on; the walking is implied. Then, as the building is approached, the camera (eyes) cuts down to the door, which is pulled open.

The door to the left sat a cafe, dark and closed up, and to the right is an open space — where I needed to go. The doors were locked. My head hit the spot where the two doors met. I ventured around a corner, down a hall, up a half set of stairs … whatever the hell that means. And my eyes, which were focused upon the electronic marquee, shifted with the turn of my neck to a desk. And the pleasant woman tells me two-stepped directions how to get to where I’m going.

Should I sign in? No, she tells me I’m “alright.”

I went down the elevator one floor only to walk back up one flight to the open room that I was looking through locked doors. Through windows, the day was still as incredibly pleasant as experienced minutes earlier. But let’s go back. As I milled about the bottom floor, wondering what room I had to go into, or search for a key hidden in the room, or construct a Rube Goldberg machine that eventually reveals a door. However, after jiggling the handles of each of the locked doors, the set of stairs that lead — this was through another door — back up was found.

The room was entered. Hands were shaken. After a couple introductory questions, I was asked:

“Why are you still here?”

In Central New York.

But when I exited the building, properly finding my way out, out through the locked doors before pushing the door open, the sun was still shining.

 

 

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They’re Baaack …

… and we’re not talking about those evil entities from the Poltergeist series.

Dinosaurs.

“Clever girl,” Says Robert Muldoon to Steven Spielberg, returning and poking his head out from the foliage.

This time there is no Dennis Nedry to screw up the system, but a hybrid dinosaur. No, I’m not talking about Vincent D’Onofrio either; he is supposedly playing the supporting villain.

I’m not sure if Michael Crichton is spinning in his grave or what. However, it’s rather certain and difficult to pull a franchise out of a Tyrannosaurs-Rex-grave-sized hole. The novels are amazing, and they stand far above the movie compliments. This includes the more hokey, family-friendly third installment where the only decent thing about the film was the concept of evolution and dinosaurs becoming more intelligent.

[This is where the camera cuts to Jeff Goldblum signature laughing in an armchair.]

I don’t care how attractive Bryce Dallas Howard is — OK. I’ll pause, because that’s a lie. At least Chris Pratt is in tow. He’s showing his vitality and ability to act in comedy and action roles. Let’s see how he can fare in a dinosaur movie.

The two things that worry me are the use of CGI and the potential of it being too family-friendly. The original Jurassic Park kept everyone on the edge of their seats for a wonderful, thrilling joyride. This installment, however, could be different and in similar fashion to JP III. Claw marks and all.

But it’s too early to tell. But I’m excited about it.

Check out the trailer:

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Sleeping Soundly

And as this day draws to a close, a sound mind and body drags wearily to bed.

Full mind. Full belly. Guilt-free. Conscience reveling in wonder.

And there is nothing to be ashamed about.

A tired man’s words are an awake man’s thoughts … to some degree. Short, simple, honest.

There was a lot of local fervor tonight: passion, excitement.

Eight hours flew by quickly.

“All the world’s a stage,” as Shakespeare states in “As You Like It.”

Tomorrow’s another act, more scenes. Let’s see how it plays out.

 

 

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Breaking the Ice

A post about unemployment was started, but the kibosh was put on it. There was nothing interesting about writing about applying for jobs, a couple writing and a couple digital marketing jobs. After mapping out the words that are to follow, a good segue was made, but I’ll save that for a Kinani Blue post.

Last night, there was an attempt to call me out on being insincere and not truthful regarding my shyness. I’m told that “I’m not shy,” because I perform improv. I’m not shy,” because I talk to a lot of people. My longevity with jobs was complimented, saying that I’m dedicated even though I thoroughly didn’t like a certain position, and because of that I stuck it out and tried to do well.

But I don’t have a job, and I get anxious before interviews. I don’t have a girlfriend, because the timidness and awkwardness sweat out of me; and women do have teeth, and so they will bite. I don’t have my dream job, because there is some self esteem issues that get in the way. And since money is such an issue, it does hinder moving to a larger environment without a secure job.

And I stared at this person. I just stared. I wanted to chuckle, because she was confident that she had me pegged; she didn’t. She presumed me to be a certain type. I asked her why I was on an internet dating site. She couldn’t answer it, or maybe she didn’t answer it since it sounded rhetorical.

While I was grabbing a beer with this friendly face, who currently is simply an acquaintance on friendly terms, an OkCupid match walked into the room. She looked at me, pulling a double-take and recognizing me from the website. That was clearly obvious. But this was after I saw a girl I previously dated months ago. I shielded my face to protect my person from being seen; the angle I was at helped as well. Even though I wasn’t on a date, I didn’t want her to see me with another woman.

The brunette, although we dated briefly about a month and a half, was probably one of the prettiest I’ve dated. Amazing kisser; and there was such a breathtaking passion when our lips touched. Sometimes I’d have to pull away to catch my breath, but even having my hand on the side of her face during that pause was just as electrical.

She and I met at a bar, during a networking event. I saw her, and her beauty struck a chord. Our eyes locked, and I knew she wanted to talk to me as well. We did. Aside our differences, we got along well. Introducing her to everyone came without hesitation. Her questioning me about some female friends made me hesitate sometimes, referencing my last serious relationship, but it wasn’t a biggie. She was not like that girlfriend of mine; I don’t think anyone could be that domineering.

But I didn’t talk to her immediately. I actually crossed my fingers with hope that she’d sit down at our table. She made her way over and sat down. And that’s how it started.

I’m on OkCupid. (Yes, this is redundant information.) In the words of Tom Cruise/Jerry Maguire: “You had me at hello.” Although this marks the first and last time I will ever quote Tom Cruise, this is the ideal situation. We want that first connection to be a defining moment. It may not be the defining moment, but it has to be a defining moment that will resonate through the rest of the relationship. Aside from the person-to-person interaction, the online dating world does not allow this to happen.

Some messages say, “Hi.” Some messages take one aspect of my profile, and it’s expanded upon. Some messages don’t even begin with hello. Some messages are simply absurd. This leaves me wanting to make contact and connections less. For the first time, I responded to someone the other day after they only said hello with a wink emoticon (not emoji). I responded and asked how they were. Nothing as a reply back.

Are these profiles bots? Are they made up? I’ve seen the green dot indicators, letting everyone know they are online. This only makes online dating more uninviting and more unappealing. There is reluctance to make an effort. By I still try for some reason, but it’s feeble.

Why? Because the whole real-life confidence has grown because of it.

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Second Opinions

Last night, I ended up meeting up with a friend for a low-key evening. After a week of hustling around, sitting around for a low key evening was pretty necessary to experience. The following morning, today, was to be filled with improv from 10 AM to 3 PM, and the latter three hours were dedicated to a musical workshop through our Syracuse Improv Collective. She would later poke at me about not participating in the workshop, because I’m not one for singing.

However, she did call me out on bailing, because we definitely sang a few times in past improv classes. This workshop of musical improv is also not karaoke, which you all should know my fear of that by now; amateurish singing always does that to me. However, attending the class and watching for a little bit, this calmed my fear toward that type outing. I’m willing to give karaoke-related or infused events an acceptable “college try.” However, considering I belt out tunes when no one is watching kind of makes me a singing hypocrite.

I should have given the workshop a try.

But I digress. My travels took me to Skaneateles, which was decorated to nth degree for the December holiday season, not the November, like everywhere else. Alexis and my relationship truly defines the men-and-women-can-be-just-friends debate in positive favor. We have a great understanding of the friendship, and we have a blast. And it’s important for both of our future partners to realize and understand that this is a person that we are going to be friends with for a long time and no matter where we end up.

We’re both in our 30’s. We’re both creative minds. We’re both intelligent people, well-traveled and cultured. And we have learned a lot from each other; I definitely can say that I have learned a lot from her. And we love to vent to each other about the American Central New York Follies of Dating. We give each other insight into what each of our genders are saying, thinking, doing.

What she isn’t accustomed to is the concept of OkCupid, and the world of online dating, which I don’t quite fully understand, but I enlightened her and allowed her to peruse around on the app later in the night.

First, we dealt with the frustration of the hoity-toity blonde woman, who got snippy with us. She was sitting at an adjacent table we were eyeballing, but she kept her clutch and scarf on one of the stools of the other high top. We took the high top, considering it was the only table left in The Blue Goose. As we took our seats, Alexis had to take the seat with the woman’s stuff, because we wanted to face out toward the window and not the corner of two walls.

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Photo by A. P.

This only makes sense, looking for a view and not a blank wall, right? Well, the woman gave us — well, mostly Alexis — the stink eye the rest of the evening. Sorry for disturbing your clutch’s evening, ma’am, but inanimate objects don’t get a seat of their own around here.

The OkCupid came up, and I essentially showed her what it was all about. We went through matches, and we checked out profiles. I took her through the “Quickmatch” option, where people can do a quick browse and scope out the pictures and brief summary of potentials in the area. The first picture that popped up caught my eye, and she quickly agreed; after checking out the summary she wrote, her picture was swiped to the “Like.” Unfortunately, it could not be found today; so much for messaging her.

And she took a browse through the questions section, learning more about me than she ever imagined. She got few good laughs in and several eye opening aspects about her friend. (Some things she did not expect.)

But Alexis and I spoke of true connections: the moments of looking someone in the eyes, the sensation of touching someone (not in an overly sexual way, but the actual hand grazing a face before a kiss and shoulder touching and hugging), the gratification or disgust of kissing another person. All of these adds up to a physical and emotional attraction that cannot be dismissed. We spoke of astrological signs — we believe in this — and our matches and mismatches. And we talked about how our daily habits and interests should play a role in sifting out the better matches from the less qualified.

We all have our roles, and this includes the masculine and feminine. Men and women employ each other’s qualities, and some embody the qualities more than others. It reflects who we are, who we are looking for, and what level of a playing field that we look for and expect and should pair up with. It’s quite more in depth than what this scribbling is about, but this is only to show the top of the mound of this monstrosity of love, something we can’t fully understand. At least we have each other’s backs … as friends.

We also couldn’t understand why our selfies last night were not coming out as good as they normally do.

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Horror Scope

So there isn’t much to report, but this lovely horoscope is scary on target. So, yes, I am a Pisces. This is a little more insight into my life, otherwise and especially present …

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