1. Shit. Today, while I was busy making pizzas at work, these girls came in. And if I was straight, I guess these are the girls such straight young guys as the hypothetical me is supposed to be massively attracted to. They didn't have much money, but wanted to order a pizza. After wrangling over whether they could afford a ranch cup (only 55 cents, but overpriced for that) I told them "I can give you 2 dollars off that pizza, there's a special going on, so special it's only for you."
It was late in the shift and I was ready for a break and a laugh. But maybe I laid it on a little thick. So I made their pizza and threw it in the oven, then I had to go in the back and furiously mix up some sauce, we were low.
But when the girls came back for their pizzas, they asked for me by name("Chad", I told them when asked, "sometimes on the phone, when I'm speaking quickly, people hear Jeff, or Jake, or Dan or anything else."), so I specifically could be the one to give them their pizza. The girls said they'd be back to see me later.
I dunno. I've never been too disappointed with my looks, and I don't know if I would be no matter how I looked, considering I don't really put too much stock in myself. And while I hope I would be the last person to take personal credit for something as inane as looks, I'm pretty sure I've attracted girls solely on that front before, considering girls have asked me out that don't know me in any other way but what they can suck up with their eyes.
While I certainly don't object to the way I look, I'll be annoyed if, in this case, it seems to be getting girls I don't want. Should I be less casually flirtatious when bored? Or is there even anything I can do?
I guess I'm flattered they could take me as worth something, but I hope to God they don't take this any further than casually flirting over the counter. I'm so tired of people getting mad at me because I have to tell them I can't ever love them romantically or sexually because of their genitals.
2. Sometimes I wonder if my main problem isn't just too much spare thought capacity. Sometimes I try to sit and just think about something in particular, with nothing else around to do.
But it never works. My thoughts always flit around to something or other, remarking at what they find interesting, etc. I can only get really productive thinking done if I'm reading something like The Economist and I take a moment to reflect, or if I'm in a natural setting sometimes, with a hot coffee to sip, or when I have something else to do.
That's a large part of the reason I walk home through the woods and bike through the woods. Not only is it good exercise and relaxation, it's really the only time of day I can get really productive thinking done, besides small insights. Maybe that's why it's so relaxing.
There is one exception: when I'm buzzed, or even on my way to flat-out drunk. I notice a few things: I seem to be much better at the piano. I don't know if I actually am or if I just sound better to my drunk ears, but I certainly get into the music much more fully and emotionally.
Or I can actually sometimes think really good things, if I'm not really too drunk. Because I'm so fuddled, I don't have all this excess thought capacity flying off to think of other things, I can focus so heavily on one thing.
Like tonight. Tonight I had either the best or second-best experience I can ever call up at will. (It vies with mountain climbing).
Getting drunk and then listening to Beethoven's Ninth.
The first and second movements make me feel powerful beyond belief. The third movement makes me cry. And I wildly conduct the fourth, getting into the delicious, beautiful interplay of voices calling for the brotherhood of all humanity and the beauty of joy!
All I need to do is get drunk to get rid of all that spare, useless thought capacity, then all possible distractions. I black out my room, and lie down in front of my stereo, up at full blast, me ears equidistant from each speaker, so I have nothing to do, nothing in the world to think about, but getting lost in, truly starting to understand the unbelievable, deaf genius that was Ludwig Van Beethoven.
I never get tired of it. There's nothing in the world better.
I hardly ever listen to pop music, so often the only time I get exposed to it is when the bus driver plays it on the morning bus. But what I hear, and I don't know if these are the most popular songs or not, but what I hear is mostly a lot of songs that are short, 2 to 6 minutes for the most part, fairly simple and predictable, and very upbeat and inspiring.
While I don't really mind such tunes, I get unbelievably tired of them. Why do we think our music is so much better than music used to be? Have we lost the need for the vast, sad-happy soundscape of the 3rd movement? The wrathful power of the long first movement? Or the beautiful sounds of the fourth?
O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!
Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen
Freude, schöne Götterfunken.
Tochter als Elysium.
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heligtum!
Deine Zauber binden wieder,
Was die Mode streng geteilt;
Alle Menschen werden Brüder,
Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt!
3. I have a friend in a few classes. I've noticed him in previous years, mostly for being really, really hot, but not really befriended him until this year.
I'm glad to be friends with him.
Today in English we were writing poems. First, haikus.
He wrote one about me:
Chad is beautiful.
He makes everything better.
Chad is so lovely.
Then we wrote poems with syllables based on the Fibonacci sequence.
Here's what he said:
Chad and his
beautiful gold hair
for the rest of his existence.
He was probably kidding, but I'd really love to pretend he's not.
I gave him a friendly massage today. He really appreciated it, although, honestly, I was happy to do it. Not just because it's practice for a useful skill, but because he's really hot so I don't mind touching him one bit.
I almost wish he wouldn't breathe so hard during such massages though. It gives me a bit too much desire for what I can probably never have.