Monthly Archives: November 2003

I Mentally Outgrow My Clothes

Found a great stark red dress shirt at Banana Republic yes­ter­day that I wanted to pur­chase right then and there, but unfor­tu­nately I don’t have any money any­more. I’m flat out broke, going into debt for the first time in my life, unless I decide to take up a tem­po­rary job in January instead of going back to school. The first thing I’m going to buy when I get a job is new clothes. Running across that shirt gave me a great idea though; I’m going to try intro­duc­ing more reds into my wardrobe. I cur­rently only have a maroon golf shirt, and most of my clothes don’t seem to match my cur­rent moods/outlook. The pre­vi­ous year has been very neu­tral khaki and navy blue, while the year before that was mostly blacks and greys.

The only real down­side to con­stant men­tal change is that it seems like I’m out­grow­ing my wardrobe every year.

The Hong Kong Packing List

Things I’m tak­ing on my trip to Hong Kong include:

Patches Gets Put Down

Patches on the couch

Poor Patches has to be put down today. I have the option of being present dur­ing the process, but I really doubt that I could han­dle some­thing like that. He hasn’t stopped pee­ing and poo­ing on my car­pet for the last few weeks, and doesn’t seem to be very happy with Dolly attack­ing him every time she sees him. He’s too old to be adopted by any­one; all attempts to find a suit­able owner have turned up fruit­less. Since he’s so old and doesn’t adapt well to mov­ing any­way, Trolley, Aaron, and I think it’s best that he’s put down now. He’s lived a very good four­teen years, spoiled by Aaron in his child­hood. Nick and I have really enjoyed him being around these last few weeks (aside from the con­stant car­pet elim­i­na­tion). He was very docile, vocal, and affec­tion­ate, always try­ing to sleep on me whether I was awake or not. Sometimes he would fol­low me around the apart­ment when I was doing chores for the chance that I would sit down and turn into a pil­low. When Nick and I would chill on the couch, he would be the third stooge, always hang­ing out with us. I gave Aaron some time alone with Patches and a bag of Temptations. Everyone will def­i­nitely miss him.

This Is Why You Don't Know Me

I never tell any­one to keep my secrets. I only tell secrets to those I trust, which hap­pens to be less than a hand­ful of peo­ple. These peo­ple know me well enough to under­stand the grav­ity of what I talk about and gage whether they should keep it to themselves.

Whenever peo­ple ask that I don’t tell any­one else about what they’re about to say, I never even acknowl­edge the request. For me, it’s a com­plete given, some­thing that shouldn’t even have to be said. I will rarely talk about any­one to any­one else, because one can never be too sure about what should be kept secret. Some peo­ple find that I take this a lit­tle to the extreme, since I won’t even talk about some­thing like what some­one ordered for din­ner on the off-chance that they’re on a diet and don’t want oth­ers to know. The risk of hurt­ing some­body is never worth it to me.

I think this way mainly due to the fact that I’ve gone through a lot of pain and trou­ble, sim­ply due to some “inno­cent” gos­sip. I can’t fuck­ing stand it when peo­ple talk about things that don’t con­cern them in any way, aside from only know­ing the peo­ple involved. I espe­cially can’t stand it when some­one knows that say­ing some­thing is wrong, and they go ahead and do it any­way. It’s made me a very unopen per­son to most. It’s not just the poten­tial for hurt though, there are some things that I sim­ply don’t want peo­ple to know.

But that’s another story altogether.