Monthly Archives: February 2004

Amplitude

Sometimes it feels as if I’ve changed in an infi­nite num­ber of direc­tions. Every change comes as a result of some unsat­is­fac­to­ry char­ac­ter­is­tic of my for­mer self. The result, hope­ful­ly a series of what I con­sid­er improve­ments, becomes the oppo­site of traits I once pos­sessed.

Confidence is an exam­ple. It’s only now, after more than eight years of con­scious work, that I’ve gained some form of con­fi­dence, of self-respect. And I appre­ci­ate it now, not only in myself but in oth­er peo­ple as well. It was my own dif­fi­dence that drove me to become an assertive per­son. This isn’t to say that it’s some­thing I’ve stopped work­ing on. I’m not quite sat­is­fied yet, because I’m still learn­ing to pre­vent over­con­fi­dence, but oth­er than that I think I’ve come quite far.

The same goes for quite a few oth­er things. Having no friends has made me a bet­ter one. Being alone has made me a patient lover. Being shy has made me more out­go­ing. Having gone through emo­tion­al ups and downs has made me more sta­ble.

Being weak has made me stronger.

Usually It's Dress Shirts And Sweaters

From one of my inside sources, I found out that the hir­ing freeze at the old gov­ern­ment job might be on hia­tus and they’re look­ing to fill some CS‑2 posi­tions. Aaron and I con­tact­ed our old employ­ers to get togeth­er for some lunch tomor­row, and they end­ed up mak­ing reser­va­tions for 14 at the Mayflower. Aaron and I both know that this could be an impor­tant lunch, so we’ll be putting on the prep­py clothes. We actu­al­ly had to dis­cuss what we’d be wear­ing, since we dress so sim­i­lar­ly.

These Long, Lonely Nights

I sleep with two pil­lows. The big­ger, fluffi­er one goes under my head, and the small­er, less fluffi­er one I hug. I’ve been sleep­ing with two pil­lows longer than I can remem­ber, and it’s become dif­fi­cult to fall asleep with just one, which makes crash­ing at friends places and hotels a bit of a has­sle. Sometimes I sleep on my side with the small­er pil­low on my back and pre­tend I’m sleep­ing next to some­one.