The Raptorian Sector -- Banter

Banter

Kowai desu ne...

Knee-deep in Bird Droppings

[December 7, 2003] Or make that knee-deep in snow... It snowed like mad here in NJ during the past two days, and now there's quite a bit to play in. I make a point of heeding childlike urges that might make a post-teenage person such as myself "look silly", because I really don't care if people look at me funny for staring at the Canada geese or crows at the campus or getting myself absolutely filthy when we did plaster casts in Sculpture cast or, in today's case, putting on snowpants and snow boots that don't quite fit and trudging around in the fluffy white stuff.

When my sibs and I were younger, every major downfall of snow meant a few excursions outside -- we'd bundle up and play as children do. Our front yard consists of essentially a slope with two giant paired conifers (the bigger one being closer to the septic system), and the aisle in between was our sledding grounds. Pull out the blue plastic sleds, coast on down the slope, wipe out against the fence at the bottom, then trudge back up and do it all over again. Sometimes we'd go to the cattle field across the street (which only has cattle on it so that the landowners don't have to pay as much) and skate on the pond there when it froze over. And, of course, there must have been the occasional snowperson. All until it was time to go inside, have hot cocoa with marshmallows, and watch Christmas cartoons.

I suppose the fact that I'm being all nostalgic must mean that I'm getting old. Or maybe it's just a natural part of the human condition to regard such memories with a certain fondness. Things do change. I sure as hell can't fit into those plastic blue sleds anymore. The pond across the street has since been fenced off and the landowner's son has built his own McMansion on the property (though there are still three cattle there -- but only three). I can still go out and play in the snow, though. It's not quite the same, of course. Growing up, you almost inevitably lose most of your youthful pep and naïveté, though I try to hold on to as much of that whimsy, that carefree attitude, as I can. For what's lost forever, though, there are some benefits -- no more pathetic bickering with the siblings, for one.

I really didn't get much done out there, though. I mostly tried to be all artistic and "sculpt" the snow covering this pile of woodchips into some more defined shape. I called it quits when something vaguely draconian was beginning to take form, mostly because the snow wasn't handling too well. It crunched nicely, but it didn't adhere. Argh. So I came inside... But at least I made the effort. Instead of just remaining inside, regarding snow as a nice scenic additive and a potential agent for canceling school, I tried to go back to my roots. Now all I need is some hot cocoa.

It's about time I wrote something here again. I've been neglecting my site all too much lately, though hopefully that will start to change. Since the late summer (the last time I was actually writing stuff here), my attentions have been thoroughly diverted by an "Evangelion" forum at AnimeNation I was somehow drawn into (or, I might say, I somehow drew myself into). It was lots of fun at first -- some great discussions, I got to make a name for myself in the fan community (part respectable, part "total loony"), and the like. But, eh, after 900+ posts it's getting old. I'm still posting -- I cannae help myself! -- but my overall tone feels kind of dulled, even slightly bitter. Probably means it's time to move on and put my energies someplace where they won't be deleted after being idle for a year (which is the treatment that threads get at the forum -- no posts for a year, "DELETED!!!").

I was thinking while I was outside, this website could really use a complete and total makeover. A completely new look and organization, all outdated content eliminated and that which remains given an appropriate rehash, maybe even a new title. Maybe something like... "Shades of Ultraviolet". (Don't ask -- it just popped into my head when I was thinking outside.) The dark background DEFINITELY has to go -- that's been annoying me for eons. And perhaps frames -- NO NOT FRAMES!!! -- might actually be a good idea. I might consider putting myself on an aggressive schedule to produce this "TRS Mark 2" during Holiday break or something. Like, pretend I'm a movie producer under pressure from a big deadline that's on posters everywhere and can't be changed. Work myself into dirt and unveil my totally overhauled website on the promised date. It's worth thinking about, anyway...

As for what I've been doing... Taking three college courses currently -- Sculpture I, Commercial Illustration, and Art History II. The last is, totally unlike Art History I, an almost total no-brainer (two tests in the whole bloody semester -- that's it!). For the other two, I've been combating my various sources of distraction in order to put my attentions in the right place. It's never been easy for me, never. What with my wretched ability to handle deadlines, I'm really not strapping up to me much of a potential commercial illustrator, even though my grade for the class will probably be pretty good. On the other hand, I've never even begun to consider sculpture a potential career -- it's one of those areas where I desperately want to acquire skill (you know how awesome it would be if I could make my own macquettes?), and I figure taking a college course in it is a good way to start (not to mention I needed to take some art electives anyway).

With just a couple of weeks left, there's not much left to be done in Sculpture I -- definitely not enough time to start something new. I'd been hoping to use my last project as an excuse to sculpt a stylized embryo the size of a human newborn and cast it in plastic or rubber (for one of my own twisted, diabolical purposes... erm, as a prop for next Otakon, to be precise) -- which I would DEFINITELY need help to do, given my total lack of sculpting 1337ness -- but, since that's not going to happen, I guess I have an "excuse" to take Sculpture II next semester. Actually, to graduate, I just need three more classes (assuming this semester concludes on a good note, which it probably will): A social science, Lifetime Wellness, and Portfolio Presentation, but I really want to take Painting II and Sculpture II (which are offered in the Spring) before I leave the county college. So, next semester, I've opted to take the three art courses and relegate the remaining two to the Hell of Summer courses.

And all this means I have to start asking around for potential colleges to apply to. I might have mentioned this before, at some point, but I'm planning to double-major in environmental science (so I might be qualified to become a professional Tree-hugger, I suppose) and visual arts soon as I go to the four-year. The visual arts is just something I do, but, I dunno, sometimes I doubt if that's where my lot in life lies. It's just one way I've expressed myself throughout my life, but turning that into a profession is something else. My mind might be considered more that of a scientist than that of a "real" artist (which is alright with me, since I never really felt at home with the artsy mentality anyway). The idea of being some sort of environmental crusader (as it were), one of those folks who is actually OUT THERE doing something to better the relationship between humans and Earth, intrinsically holds much more appeal to me than sitting around in a studio cranking out the goods.

I've been a pretty worthless activist so far -- haven't even registered myself to vote, and how about writing lettings to the senators telling them to vote against all of those gawd-awful things our prostitute of a president wants to get through the legislature? Nope; I've been good for absolutely nothing. I feel like there's so much I need to learn about the way the world works before I'd feel "right" writing letters to people and making phone calls, though that's really just an excuse. When it comes down to it, I'd rather be, like I said, more DIRECTLY involved, somehow, instead of just being a shouting voice on the outside. I just don't know how to get there.

On the other end of things... My social life has been completely dead, more dead than usual. I'm just totally isolating myself. I mean, I talk to people at school sometimes, it's not like I'm completely closing myself off. I haven't seen Mare in a little while, though, nor have I even seen her on AIM. I haven't even BEEN on AIM or anything. I never wished Morgan-kun "Happy birthday" (he turned eighteen last month, I believe). About the most social thing I've done lately is bump into a fellow I made the acquaintance of in Painting class last spring -- name of Ryan -- and chat with him some, while attempting to schedule another time to meet so that I could give him the "Evangelion" TV series on two VHS tapes to peruse (since he'd taken interest in the shito-ey things I'd been doing in class). We never did manage to meet as scheduled, but fortunately I went into studio lab last Thursday, brought the tapes because I thought he might be there, and he was. RAKKII!

Haven't "seen" too much Jason, either, which is also completely my fault. Our relationship (long distance as it is) has since gotten to the point where it feels somewhat one-sided. The feeling I get from him is that he's excessively fond of me for reasons even he's not aware of -- he's been totally bonkers about meeting me in real life, he tells me he gets a funny feeling in his chest (not quite painful, but not pleasant either) whenever we talk, and he had the audacity to ask me for "titty pictures" (which he, of course, is never going to get from me). Whatever regard he holds me in, I suspect it's unrequited. I can't help but take some sort of strange amusement, fascination even, with the idea that I've managed to spark the ardors of a male (which has never happened before to my knowledge), let alone one who's never even met me. (Maybe if Jason did, he'd change his tune quickly. Who knows.) And, of course, my biological aspect seems to get giddy about the prospects of me getting it on with anyONE, no matter how remote those prospects might be.

But, it's odd, really... Jason's seemingly misguided love for me -- whatever inexplicable feelings he seems to harbor --- feels like one of the only things that have kept me intrigued in him. The truth of my own feelings is that, considering what I have pieced together of him without having met him, is that, as I said, I do not share the sentiments. I don't get the sense that he's a bad person in any way or that he's been deceiving me. In many ways, he is quite a mystery to me -- interesting in that sense, but frustrating on many other counts. Just to be heavily theoretical, if we were familiars in real life as we are on the Internet, he could be a buddy. But from what I've seen, the sorts of things I'd want in a significant other just aren't there. Some of them are, some of the basics. I suppose it's his outlook on life that drags me down. He says he'd be content just to get by -- just to survive, which is rather different from my own aspirations to leave a mark on the world before I depart.

And he, VERY much unlike me, is content to entertain himself more and think less. Well, I'm all game for enjoying life, though I do so in a different way. From what I can tell, Jason plays video games, watches anime, and does very little else. I do both of those things from time to time, though I'm overall a far more cerebral person. I'm both scientific and philosophical, and there are few times the grayish blob in my skull isn't at work. I love knowledge, I love pursuing it, and I love attaining it. That's my scientific side. My philosophical side is always pondering -- about what I already know, about what I don't know, what I want to know -- and trying to work out the craziness of everything. And if I have another person to bat these thoughts around with, all the better.

But poor Jason's not game for that. He's intelligent, far as I can tell, but his priorities are in a totally different place. My intensely philosophical-type questions leave him positively befuddled, though I seem to manage to stop the conversation regularly REGARDLESS of what I say. 75% of the time he just doesn't know what to say -- and that's one of the reasons he's frustrating. He doesn't seem to have any handy Conversation Transitions in his pockets, either, that would help make those sorts of situations a bit less awkward. He says he's better in real life, but, well, that doesn't really help the AIM conversations any, does it? The two of us just seem to be on entirely different levels in so many ways. I guess he finds the differences appealing in whatever way -- "keeps things interesting", I think he said as some point. Differences are fine and good, just not the sorts that make conversation so difficult. A considerable number of our conversations are largely ABOUT these difficulties in communication, which might go to say something. As human beings, we have much in common -- but perhaps where we're different, we're almost irreconcilably different.

Hopefully, though, the two of us will get to meet at the next Otakon and figure some of this stuff out a little more. No matter what, though, the whole thought of "long distance relationships" has acquired a rather bitter taste to me. So if you don't live within ready driving distance -- you can be my FRIEND, but that's it!!

All this harsh blather is pretty bad timing on my part, though... Over Thanksgiving, Jason-kun came down with hypokalemia and almost died -- definitely not fun. He's been waiting for me to "Banter" again, though maybe by the time he gets through this he'll be chewing his words. We'll see. --RKC

Yet Another Unfinished Entry (or Two)

[August 15, 2003] Ah, a Banter has been in order for some time, no?

Well, wonder of wonders -- I'm legally an "adult" now and I have been since last Sunday. Suffice to say, I don't feel any different than I did before, and, since this is me we're talking about, naturally my mind hasn't even begun to speculate the possibility of getting drunk or anything. Alcohol's just one of those things that I would rather be closed-minded about. I generally like to be open-minded, but fermented beverages just don't float my boat, really. I'm not interested, so I'll just keep on avoiding them.

I've spent this last week doing the exact same sort of nothing that I excel at. Well, to be more specific, I've been sleeping, sweating, posting mindlessly to various Evangelion-related forums, transcribing the appendix of my new copy of "Die Sterne", and trying to draw with remarkably little success. What a great way to fritter away the remainder of the summer...

[September 5, 2003] And my uneventful existence goes on... How'd I manage not to write any banter all August? The muse will hit when she does, I suppose.

Summer is over and college has begun once again. Virtually nothing happened all summer. I didn't finish any of the things I had been inspiring to finish. I never got employed, and I never even volunteered anywhere. (I left my phone number with the Raptor Trust twice. By the time they got back to me, my motivation seemed to have vanished. They left a message on the answering machine and, sadly enough, I never even listened to it.) As predicted, the whole deal with Jason-kun snuffed itself out as abruptly as it had originally started. (I mean, we still chat now and again, but the conversations are pretty dead.) I wasted lots of time posting on forums about that anime that loves to waste my time ("Evangelion", what else?) -- but, of course, my doujinshi still hasn't gotten anywhere.

About the most interesting thing that happened is that my siblings and I went to Otakon, August 8~10. My friend Mare went separately with her buddies from college, and I spent a lot of time with them. Or wandering around alone, in my typical way. It was lots of fun, though being around so many great costumes made me wish I had come up with something a little more interesting than Kaji's business attire. (Still, even a cheapskate costume like mine was better than no costume at all. I felt so silly when I was wearing my normal clothes on Friday! At a place like Otakon, cosplay is the normal dress code. It's a lot more fun, besides.) I managed to sneak into a few NGE group photos (but, of course, no one stopped me and asked for my photo by myself -- my outfit was way too bland for that), and, while I was walking around on the merchants' floor, one fellow came up to me and asked me for a hug. I'm not kidding! Evidently, he had cosplayed as Kaji himself a couple of times (not that year, though) and I was the first drag king Kaji he had ever seen. He got his hug, too -- why not?

I tried to break out of my little box of solitude while I was there. It's odd -- sometimes I can be very giddy, very outgoing, and othertimes I can be very introverted and quiet. The latter actually seems to be my "natural condition", but that doesn't mean I can't overcome it. My mood can be very fragile sometimes, though -- very fragile. If one thing goes amiss while I'm in Giddy Mode, I can be in tears the next moment. It's very odd. But, anyway, at Otakon, I was a little bit of everything.

I stayed away from my siblings most of the time there, since I managed to make sparks fly early on. Inadvertantly, though. In my giddiness, I'd been making one too many references to "NGE", and it REALLY got to them. More than I realized, at first. Things got a lot touchier than they needed to be about something so trivially unimportant, but at least I know better now. But, anyway, because I'd outworn my welcome with Shannon and Brian, I spent a lot of time with Mare-chan. I didn't really get on friendly-friend terms with any of her buds, but I did manage to stay pretty easygoing and mellow, which was good, considering the last time I'd hung out with Mare and her friends a quirk in my behavior had caused an "incident". (But nevermind that. It's history.)

[And... who knows what happened to that Banter. ::sigh::]

"Accursed 'Tiels!!"

[July 19, 2003] "Banter" for three consecutive days (or four, if you prefer)! How about that? Does that really mean anything in particular? Not really, just that I've been unusually "banterous".

Surprises of surprises, I was actually in the Bird Room [previously explained in Banter, if I'm not mistaken] for once, and not being subservient to the demands of the avians this time, either. Well, if you want to get TECHNICAL, I decided to go in there because Donald was in one of his squawking fits -- the sorts of squawks that my ears cannot tolerate no matter how hard I try to "ignore" the bird. My very presence seems to pacify the beast to some degree, though, on the other hand, it can get the cockatiels unusually riled.

I was attempting to work on my painting of our dog Maggie. This began as one of the assignments for my "Painting I" class, in particular, a painting utilizing a linear brush stroke throughout. My mom had been wanting me to paint the dog for a while, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to get started. Linear brush strokes are commonly employed to render such things as mammalian fur, so Maggie as a subject matter would lend herself poyfectly to the technique. (The wildlife artist Rod Arbogast, whom my aunt and uncle are patrons of, goes really crazy with this technique. I've stared at the prints and originals hanging around their house since I was a sprout, and the detail really is something. "I wish I could paint like that!") Predictably, though, I didn't get to finish the painting the way I wanted to, and it was sitting in my closet until quite recently. In my "Oh My God I Don't Do Anything!!" angst, I pulled the handful of unfinished "Painting I" pieces from the closet stack, and the Maggie one, being based quite directly off a photo (which I took, so it doesn't matter), seemed like the natural place to find my "painting hand" again, as it were.

I've worked on it about three times over the past week, all regrettably short working sessions. As I've said in the past, the Bird Room is hardly ideal working conditions -- though I'm sure there are plenty of artists far more prolific than myself who have dealt with considerably worse, so what right do I have complaining? I would have drawn out the previous session longer, though I was slowly being driven to madness by a combination of a headache ensuing and the cockatiels persistently making their obnoxious little "tweets". It's the sort of noise they make typically when they want my attention, and they tend to do in unison, worsening the impact on my sensitive ears. However, I couldn't figure out how to make them shut up -- the water bottle I was using to keep the acrylic paints manageable didn't seem to help ::p -- so I just ended up leaving the bastards alone in the darkness. (This was around dusk, mind you.) Now I'm sitting here waiting for the Ibuprofen to take full effect. What fun. And what a waste of acrylic paints. ACCURSED 'TIELS!!!

[To be completely random, "Great Fairy's Fountain" from the Zelda Ocarina of Time Rearranged Album just came up in the playlist, and one part in it reminded me of "Ya soshla s uma" by Tatu, of all things. The latter, BTW, is actually a good song, despite being "pop" and all. I prefer the original Russian version by far, though "All the Things She Said" doesn't disgrace the original quite as badly as, say, the English verison of Rammstein's "Engel" ::shiver::.]

"Garbage!"

[July 18, 2003] I just got back from walking the dog -- Maggie -- and now I'm all sweaty-icky-bleh. This is usually about the time of day I go outside to do mein Gartenarbeit (i.e., weeding, with a fun German touch), but I'd rather sit here and set the sweat from under my thighs sink into my already-gross chair. Well, that and type up a short Banter. ::reaches for water in bottle instead of Dr. Pepper:

I don't go on walks very often -- and it shows, don't it? Give me a little smack anywhere and I'll jiggle for a couple of seconds. ::has flashback of some "Simpsons" episode seen many years ago:: But, whenever I do, I have gotten into the happen of carrying along an ordinary plastic bag. Why?, you might wonder. It's very simple, actually. I multitask so much at the computer, it's only right that I do so in any of my other activities. And, in this case, I am combining the mundane task of walking the dog (and waiting tirelessly while she sniffs at one spot for five minutes, urinates, defecates, whatever) with the equally mundane, but strangely fulfilling, activity of picking up garbage from the roadside.

Being summer and all, the roadside is terribly overgrown in most places, so most of the garbage I'm sure is there isn't visible. And much of the garbage that is in sight requires taking the risk of contacting long blades of grass (iyaaaaa! disease-transmitting arachnids!!). But, whatever. I picked up anything I saw (except some REALLY annoying things like cardboard boxes or plastic containers that had been broken into myriad fragments -- better to tackle those without the dog's companionship). I turned an ordinary dog-walk into a selfless beneficiary act. (Yes, and I recycled the recyclables afterward. Most of them, anyway.)

For the most part, I'm not a squeamish person. I don't mind doing "grunt" work or getting dirty. Most dead things don't bother me. (One summer during a heat wave, I collected all of the dead songbirds I found while mowing the lawn with the intention of eventually using them as aids to my dinosaur drawing. Really. More recently, I found a dead turkey vulture on the side of a local highway. I wrapped it up in a blanket, stuffed it in my trunk, went straight home and told everyone the "great" news. ::evil laughter:: I hope my cathartid is still in the backyard where I left it... And, no, a cathartid is not an artery.) I'll do the sorts of things that more self-conscious people would not. I'm just like that. So picking up garbage is no big deal -- one just has to be careful of sharp metal or glass, things like that.

I suppose one day a while back, I was taking the dog for a walk and observing my surroundings all the meanwhile. I couldn't help but notice all of the garbage everywhere. It always bothered me, but, until that point, I hadn't actually considered doing something about it. So, after that, I took a plastic bag with me. I haven't really cleaned up THAT much garbage overall. I've done bits of the side of the roads near our house a few times. Near the end of last Spring Semester, I had been walking the Parcourse (a big trail/course going around the college, with periodic "stations" where you would perform a certain exercise, most of which I couldn't even begin to perform), and, of course, I noticed the oodles of garbage on that, too. I only managed one litter-elimination episode, though, starting at the beginning of the Parcourse -- a bit that ran alongside a woodsy area. The two plastic bags I had with me became full all too easily, and I hadn't even covered half of the area of the grove. The variety of litter in there was pretty incredible, though. I was almost tempted to catalogue it just for fun, though by the time I got home with my two bags of garbage all I wanted to do was get it out of my sights.

But, anyway... For someone like me who, as I all-too-often reiterate, has no life, picking up garbage every once in a while is the least I can do to compense for the sins of my species. Of course, one of the ways I hope to get a life is getting involved with much bigger ways of doing the same sort of thing. It all comes down to acting upon my ideals, my principles, my respect for the natural world and disdain for those who are completely insensitive to it. Which I always found quite preposterous. Bizarre as we are, humans are products of nature -- I mean, we're not machines or anything. We arose into being among our fellow creatures, from the proverbial womb of Nature. (Religious dogma aside...) But, of course, we have our peculiarities, such as being as capable of caring for our surroundings and fellow living things as we are capable of destruction and cruelty. One bipolar primate.

Unless our extinction comes swiftly and unexpectedly, odds are I won't be around to see where Homo sapiens ends up. Our lineage may yet go on far into the future, though I can only hope that we continue attempting to bring out our more positive traits. Wretched and despicable as this species can be, I suppose I've given up hating my own kind altogether. After all, we have shown ourselves to be capable of too many wonderful things to give up all hope. It's our rotten tendencies that need looking after.

I generally consider myself and my principles on the "beneficent" side of things -- not to seem arrogant or anything. I definitely feel a passion raging within me to take part in this perpetual battle of yin and yang. That's what it is, really. Actions that undermine the survival and health of living things -- which, of course, includes us -- versus action to both prevent this and to amend for damage already done. I believe that we humans have a right to exist, but, at the same time, so does everything else. We cannot think that we are beyond nature or try to monopolize it or control it. Since we have managed to, quite bizarrely, elude most of the checks and balances that afflict everything else on this planet, we've become almost entirely responsible for regulating ourselves. Needless to say, we haven't been doing a very good job, overall.

Hmm... This seems to have degraded into extremely generalized eco-ranting, so I'd better find my bearings.

Earlier today, I received a call from my middle school and high school buddy, Aabir. He's been busy-Busy-BUSY working up towards graduation -- hah, and I'm still just a sophomore; how I behold him with awe -- so that he can pursue his ultimate goal in life: Being a "beach bum". (Don't ask...) Basically, we were supposed to get together this weekend, but family obligations and gawd knows what else made that a negative. Le sigh. Anyway, I was aware that Aabir-san has done plenty of volunteer work, some pertaining to my area of interest, and I asked him about how I could get in on some of it. I commented that "I want to save the world," to which he replied, "The world doesn't need saving." Which is true, really -- this planet hardly needs us, though we need to keep it in a certain condition if we want it to stay the way we like it. However, Aabir did agree that we humans should at least try to make up for some of the bad shiznat we've done ... starting with taking responsibility for our own individual vices.

Which isn't something I want to get into right now, because if I did this banter would go on for that much longer. Taking personal responsibility is a very important first, of course. My parents have been practicing many habits generally associated with "awareness" -- vegetarianism, recycling, composting, using solar panels to help heat our water, stuff like that. (The lessons have been ingrained into me pretty damned well, though I'm not sure if I can say the same for my siblings...) Still, we -- the folks, the sibs, and me -- have the looming sin of owning five frickin' cars. That's one Personal Polluter for each of us. Granted, I try to minimize my driving as much as bloody possible -- no gratuitous driving for me -- though my sister drives a lot. Anything my behavior spares the enviro is doubtless nullified at least doubly by what she does. I love my sister and all, though I wish she managed to squeeze a little fuel prudency into that life of hers...

That is the problem, really. Much as some people, such as myself, enjoy making "personal sacrifices" in the name of greater good, others... Some people don't give a damn. Or they can't be bothered. Or they're just ignorant. Who knows. There is just a lot of bad attitude going around, at least in America and all... You know, that having "personal freedom" -- dubious as many of the advantages of such freedom may be -- is more important than paying attention to the grand scheme of things. Anyway... Skeptical as many people are, change on a massive scale begins with one person. There are so many people in the world, the little things do add up, whether for better or worse.

So... that's why I picked up litter while I walked the dog.

[Random: Within the same 24-hour period, two 21-year-old chicks have e-mailed me about my banter and how they're glad they're not the only eccentric ones out there. Bizarre! Or, as Frenchy would say, "How strange, yet in-tri-guing!" (Bet that reference went way over your head.)]

TODAY'S SONG: "Engel" by Rammstein. Pronounced RAMUSUTAIN -- if you're Japanese, anyway. The band's name is best spoken with a German accent; it sounds really cool that way. Death metal, or anything like it, isn't normally my thing, but this song got to me after I was introduced to a certain "Neon Genesis Evangelion" music video using this song. Not only is the song's title -- "angel", if you couldn't figure it out -- über-appropriate to the anime, "Engel" fits the personality of Asuka (who happens to be 3/4 German) to a T. Very angsty, very addictive, very fun to sing along with (deep as my voice is, it's no match for main "singer" Till's, though I can pull off "Bobo"'s lines pretty well...). The video is put together exquisitely, too. "Gott weiss ich will kein Engel sein!!!!"

A Devastatingly Long Entry:
"A Day at the Beach" and "Third Time's The Charm...?"

[July 16+17, 2003]

And, once again, the month is passing right under my nose. Why does it always happen like this? Perhaps it's because I have no life. Well, if I did, odds are time would pass that much quickly, but at least I wouldn't feel as bad about it, I suppose -- actually doing something with myself and all. I feel like I've had an epiphany about this recently, though, first, the day's events!

Today I went to the beach with my mom, aunt, and grandmother. (My brother's a real pu$$y and he doesn't like being outside for some reason. Baka.) Being as we live somewhere in northwestern New Jersey, we're obviously a ways from the ocean, so I had to get up relatively early (7 AM-ish is early for me, given I've been able to pamper myself in this respect ever since high school ended). Didn't get much sleep the night before, even though I had intended to, so I just sort of dozed off during the drive over instead of, like, actually socializing with my family members.

I don't know -- for some reason, I've always been pretty bad about that. I'm close to my folks, and I can talk to them without too many problems (except for the sorts of things that might be embarrassing to tell one's parents about...), though I've never really been too outgoing for the rest of the family. (Essentially my mom's side of the family; my dad's side moved around between California and New Jersey while I was growing up, and they're settled in Florida for the time being.) My sister is close to a lot of them, but I've always had trouble. I know very little about most of them and rarely initiate them in conversation, despite the fact that we must have, what, about a dozen family gatherings a year? (Maybe not that many, but it's something like that.) I suppose I just never knew what to say. I feel awkward coming out and saying much about what I've been doing, unless my parents set the stage for me by bringing me up in family conversation, and I feel just as awkward asking them about their own lives. But these are, for the most part, people I've known since I was too young to remember -- what's really causing my tongue to get tied? I'm not sure, though I suppose it's a matter worth investigating sometime.

Today I, yet again, failed to say much to anyone, though I suppose snoozing in the back of my mom's Aerostar didn't help matters. The highway eventually led to Sandy Hook, the closest beach (ocean beach, that is), which I had only been to once, long ago, on a field trip in grade school or middle school (I can't remember which). It wasn't especially sunny; in fact, it was pretty chilly for a day at the beach. The water was freezing and the undertow was formidable. My mom and I did attempt to brave it, though even getting submerged up to my neck didn't put my body's thermostat in the mood for a good swim. On our way out, the waves toppled Mom and wouldn't let her go, so I eventually had to perform a "rescue".

Still, even though I wasn't in the water that long, I can still feel the tide all over me -- this vague, bodily feeling of washing up and down, up and down. The ocean tends to have that effect on me. When I was younger, in my middle school days I suppose, my family had the tradition of spending a week at Ocean City, Maryland, every summer. We usually the rented the same condo at the same hotel every time, and it was quite nice. Ocean City is one of those blatantly over-commercialized beach towns -- probably even more so now than it was then, now there's a scary thought -- and if you're on the East Coast within "reasonable" driving distance you may well have heard of it. But, anyway, yeah, those were fun days of T-shirt stores and boogie-boarding. After a good day of boogie-boarding (you know, taking a big foam board out into the water and trying to ride a big wave in, then going back out and doing it again until you get wiped out too many times to bear -- "surfing" for people like me who have absolutely no bodily coordination), I would feel like I was rolling around in the water long after I had actually left the aquatic medium. Makes me wonder what causes such sensations to linger long after the stimulus has been removed... Quite curious.

Due to the hypothermia-inducing water, I spent most of the time there playing in the sand, leaving the "adults" to talk amongst themselves. Sure, I might be a little "old" for playing in the sand according to some people, but whoever thinks growing up automatically disqualifies someone from participating in activities as universal as playing in the sand really needs to get that sand out of their... Er, yeah. I don't really have holdups about whether or not people I don't even know perceive my activities as being "childish" or if I look "silly" -- I just do what I want to do. And trying to make something out of the sand is always a challenge, especially when one doesn't have any tools to work with aside from her own hands. Originally, I etched a rough stick-version of a dinosaur-like form into the sand with the intention of building on top of it. I had originally planned on making an ornithomimid or something like that (for your lay-people, think of the stampeding ostrich-like things from "Jurassic Park" -- those were ornithomimids), though soon as I started on the head it turned into the rectangular mug of a large ornithischian like a stegosaur or iguanodont. (Ah, some dinosaur terminology continues to stay with me... I'm sure "ornithischian" will lose most of you, but it's really a very basic term in the dinosaur world and the ability to use it -- and spell it, for that matter -- doesn't really mean much. If you can make any sense of cladograms and fully comprehend the meanings of monophyletic and polyphyletic groupings -- well, that's a start. Anyway...)

I decided on the stegosaur idea, added the big throat pouch, and started working down the neck (hmm, "working down the neck"... Now, what sort of visual image does that phrase put in your mind? I should just stop right now...) when I overheard a bunch of kids talking to their mom (well, the mom of at least some of them) and someone made the suggestion to make "sand angels". You know, like "snow angels", except in sand. Except the idea that went off in my head was quite a bit different, and if you're familiar with my latter-day "obsessions", you ought to be able to figure it out. So I set to work, abandoning my stegosaur in favor of making a Zeruel in the sand. (Definitely would have been an unusual fanart if I wound up finishing it. ;;>) I set my sights a bit high initially, and I started piling sand as quickly as possible in a large rectangular outline, but obviously it was too big with the time that I had.

I started working smaller, with a few kids stopping by and asking what I was making. I sort of stuttered a lame reply every time. One time I said, "A penguin. A really weird one." These kids today are bright, though, so of course they didn't buy that, and replied, "Well, whatever it is, it's good." Heh, kids... (I now know I should have totally gone over their heads by saying I was making, "A figure in Judaic lore as interpreted by Japanese science-fiction", but for whatever reason I didn't get that clever until people had stopped asking me about it.) One girl, grade-school age, even hung around me for a while and helped patch in some of the spot on Zer's torso where brats had decided to walk when I wasn't watching my creation-in-progress, though, of course, her interest eventually dwindled and she ran off. Kids are like that. ;;>

Of course Mom and the others wanted to leave before I could finish, mostly to avoid rush-hour traffic. So I was forced to abandon my "sand angel", most depressingly. Who knows how long his crudely-sculpted, eye-sockets-inlaid-with-conveniently-shaped-black-shells stared skywards before hyperactive youngsters trampled him back into the formless sand from which he was crafted. Well, when one works in sand one can only expect the highest degree of impermanence, no? (Though I wonder which is technically worse: sand or ice?) Anyway, I mostly snoozed on the way back, as well, save for a trip to Dairy Queen. Sure, I really don't need it ::pats protruding gut::, but, eh, what can I say... I like mint chocolate chip too much to pass up an opportunity like that. It was only two scoops in a waffle cone, besides. Yummy...

Well, nice of me to actually get out of the house on a non-appointment, non-scholastic sort of ordeal. Though it was family, so it doesn't really count towards me making any improvements in the "social life" area, does it? Drat. As far as that goes, I've felt a bit motivated recently to finally do something with myself. The tale of how this motivational epiphany came about is long and bizarre and odds are I won't be able to keep typing tonight long enough to cover it. But, in any case, I still have a bit of time before school starts up again and I could certainly use that time to my advantage. You know, rather than veg out all day long as I am all too apt to do, I could actually, like, get involved with something or another. I've already called the Raptor Trust regarding volunteer work, though I haven't heard back from them yet. (It wouldn't be a bad idea for me to get some volunteer work under my belt if I want to ever become employed.)

Other possibilities are involvement with the Audubon Society or Sierra Club, which I still need to look into. I am a nature-lover, after all, horrifically inactive as I may be, and I am not at all against doing "dirty work" (like picking up garbage or whatever) in the name of undoing wrongs, however minor in the grand scheme of things, wrought upon the Earth by my species. And being among like-minded people? Now, there's a feeling I haven't had since my days of attending the SVP (Society of Vertebrate Paleontology, for those of you not in the know) symposia , and what a wonderful feeling it was. There is something very integral in human beings, the feeling of being part of something larger, having a niche, as it were. Unlike at least some people, though, I don't want to be "part of" just anything, and I would certainly never forsake myself in the name of being "part of" something (which I suppose is what a lot of my peers did in the name of Peer Pressure, back in the day). No, I'd only want to be part of something that reflects me, and the infamous pastime of "tree-hugging" -- or, should we say, environmentalism or naturalism or whatever bloody term you want to use -- is something that's held appeal to me for some time. I've just never had the guts to go out in the world and try to carve a niche for myself in that regard. What a shame, no? But we'll see what happens.

In other recent news, I've let myself fall into one of the most terrible plights ever to afflict the Children of Hominids (as opposed to the "sons of man", or whatever)... Yes, that's right! The... crush. And, taking into consideration the fact that I have no life, it takes little detective work to figure out that it's an online one, which is worse, in some ways, than one where you have to deal with or see the person in real life. Well, I suppose that's arguable, but whatever. I've let it happen again and there's no point in screaming "Iyaaaaaaa! Chigau!" to myself in denial (even though people in anime seem to like screaming something at least along those lines to themselves a whole lot, but, hey, that's just anime). What better thing to do than confess my folly where the entire online world can read it?

Well, anyway... Crushes. I hate the word, really. At one point I thought I was above them, but that was before the end of my senior year of high school in 2000. Before then, I thought I was above sexuality -- at least, it wasn't a part of myself I was willing to accept. I hated being female, I hated being a human being, and everything about sex scared the willies out of me. Of course, some things about it held a shadowy allure, but such things I kept deeply to myself and otherwise tried to maintain the image of myself as an asexual sort of individual. Which was, I suppose, my way of saying, "I'm not ready to deal with this $#it yet." Gradually, though, and I can't recall exactly how it happened, I became increasingly accepting. I suppose it's a natural part of growing up in a healthy manner -- you get over the insecurities brought upon by the hell known as adolescence (I can't believe I survived it...) and accept your adult body and mentality.

Yeah, so I accepted the fact that I'm, technically, a "woman" (though in most contexts the term feels rather inappropriate for an individual such as myself, but that would take too long to adequately explain). In fact, I like being female -- of course, there are some disadvantages associated with the female hominid that females of many other species don't have (oh, how I idolize them...), but I definitely don't want to be male. And I've accepted the fact that I have a sex drive (GASP! You didn't read this! You didn't read this!!) and I crave contact with the opposite sex. (Though I suppose if you've been reading Banter, you already knew that.) Of course, being a member of the glorified animal species Homo sapiens, I, like any other animal, am afflicted by desires associated with reproduction, though at least being human allows me to recognize the fact that my species has a blatantly bad overpopulation problem and I don't need to make it worse if I don't want to. Yes! As long as you're not a fundamentalist Christian, you have every right to enjoy the perks of reproductive-related functions without actually reproducing! In fact, humans (and my cockatiel Perseus, for that matter) can enjoy such things without a partner's assistance!! Isn't that something?

There's just the problem that being in a perpetual state of "going solo" can be only barely satisfying the monstrous erogenous appetite of an individual of a species as direly over-randy as our own. (See, making a general statement like that means I get to avoid making statements specific to myself. You don't really want me to go there... do you? Of course not.) No, I imagine many people who are single have their eyes peeled for any potential mates. There are, of course, multiple reasons for people to seek a partner, though I suspect one important one is because they long for the joy that two people can bring to each other. [Unless for whatever reason someone doesn't want a mutually beneficial relationship...] I can say without much hesitation that I do.

[And now I'll attempt to finish this entry the morning after I originally started it. Yeah! Make a really long Banter even longer!!] Erm, yes, where was I...? Ah, right. So, I keep my eyes open for any males who might fit my rather bloated "Guidelines for Potential Mates"... Well, I least I keep my eyes open for any guys I might fancy, anyway. [No, despite the fact that I am suspiciously preoccupied with lesbian Evangelions, I don't get quite the same hormone kick thinking about myself with a girl as I do thinking about myself with a guy. The Eva stuff is all in good fun. ;;p I consider myself predominantly hetero, though I'm open-minded. In the unlikely event I ever did meet a lesbian I could go for, I suppose I wouldn't bar myself from any possibilities. Love is love, no?] ::Cough::, that tangent aside...

In my groundbreaking senior year of high school, two great buddies of mine, "Nikkoth" and Mare-chan (the latter should sound familiar if you're up on your Banter) saw to it to destroy my willpower and bring an end to my asexual ways, and, well, they succeeded. As a result, my first "crush" (at least, the first I ever let myself become aware of) happened -- and, as with many firsts, this one was full of mistakes. It was near the end of the school year and I didn't feel very prohibited, so basically I let myself "mess around". The subject of my emotional experimentation was a lad about four years younger than myself -- tasteless, I know (but, unlike some of the people my age, I wasn't actually screwing someone four years my junior).

I don't really feel like getting into the whole mess right now, but, basically, this guy -- we'll call him "Fry" -- was more out there than a space probe surveying Mars. Still, throughout that school year he had been fun to mess around with and it felt like an innocuous "challenge" to see how far I could "get" with him in the little remaining time in the school year. Which, as it went, wasn't really anywhere, though I suppose we did form a rather bizarre "partnership" in the meantime. It was all pretty harmless, at least, until Fry basically ruined everything by going and "mishandling" a female peer of mine. Needless to say, that really pissed me off and, in the end, made me lose any respect I might have been granting him. The school year ended on a somewhat ugly note and I neither know nor care what Fry's up to these days.

Crush #2 illustrated a little more taste. The fellow was not quite as screwed up and was, overall, considerably more respectable. However, there was the slight problem that he lived in Wales, of all places, making the fact that I let myself develop a crush in the first place the slightest bit imprudent. This lad -- we'll call him... "Davey" -- originally came to contact me regarding my Evangelion drawings (back when there were only four on the entire Fan/Eva page), which is a rather effective way of getting my attention. ;;> We traded NGE wisdom and observations for some time and eventually came to know one another on a more personal note -- at least, as personal as e-mail and ICQ will allow. I eventually came to console Davey in his numerous Real Life problems, which made us especially close. And, what can I say, I ended up caring quite deeply for him -- spending long days worrying about whether or not he had gone and done anything "stupid" to himself, or whatever -- and these feelings did me the disfavor of transforming into a "crush".

Which was very bad, in more than one way. The fact that we lived so far apart meant that, even if we did both care deeply for one another, no relationship could possibly consummate (at least, not if one set her expectations within the realm of "realism" and not "what could possibly happen in real life but is not at all likely to"). Additionally, one of Davey's most disabling issues was the fact that he had recently fallen for a local girl, but it was another of those "not to be" scenarios: She already had a boyfriend. Evidently, they were having some problems, and Davey's involvement, naturally, only made these worse -- but only temporarily. The young lady seemed torn between the two, but, after her boyfriend unsuccessfully attempted suicide, Davey, being the decent fellow that he was, urged her to return to him and bid her farewell, never to speak to her again. Last I ever heard, she and her boyfriend were happily reunited -- if anything, Davey's "intervention" had only strengthened the bond between the two. Though he only did the right thing in the end, the whole incident, predictably, left Davey's already fragile psyche in ruins. How sad that an American girl with an inexplicable crush on him ended up serving as his primary confidant.

I can't remember the exact timing of things, but eventually, during the summer of 2001, Davey originated the crazy idea of me actually going over to Wales to meet him, and I only helped to feed the idea. We both shared our disillusionally overoptimistic campaign with our parents and, despite initial resistance/skepticism, both sides eventually warmed up to it. Our parents corresponded via e-mail and the plan took shape -- I was to spend five or so days as a guest as Davey's abode. And probably the only reason it worked was that, at the time, my sister was taking overseas English classes at Oxford and was, thus, available to accompany me and make sure the situation with Davey would be safe and all. And it was. He was the spitting image of how I had envisioned him -- honesty over the Internet is a wonderful thing -- and his family was wonderful. They were very outgoing, very hospitable, and in many ways seemed quite at odds with quiet, introverted Davey -- he was the odd one out, I suppose.

We had an itinerary planned already and carried out most of the items over my stay there. I got to see Davey's neighborhood, some of the countryside, and Cardiff (Wales' capital). Whenever it was rainy (which was at least half of the time), we hung out at his house and talked. Everything seemed to be going suspiciously well. Then, the evening before the drive back to Heathrow, I made my error. Davey and I had, in e-mail, discussed, at least once, the possible feelings we might have for each other. I can't remember how it ever came up, although I do remember Davey saying something along the lines, "Well, we'll see when we meet." I remembered his words that final evening, and I brought it up because, well, at the time it didn't seem like a bad idea. Nothing could come of it even if he did like me; I was just curious, if anything.

But, yeah... It was a bad idea. I can't remember exactly what I said to him, but his response was, basically, "I don't feel that way about you." Which was perfectly reasonable, I suppose, though something about the way he replied cracked something deep within me and, well, I started crying. Not exactly the best thing I could have been doing at the time, but when I desperately need emotional relief it tends to happen on its own. Of course, my reaction made him rather upset, as well, though I assured him not to worry about it. When the whole mess was over with, we ended up saying goodnight to one another politely and going to our separate bedchambers. The next day went perfectly fine; we had a fun ride over and hugged each other goodbye when we finally had to part ways at the airport. The problems would only start to emerge when I got back home.

Overall, I thought our meeting had been a success. Not so, however, thought Davey, though he only told me so indirectly. That fall, his e-mails seemed to grow increasingly infrequent, and he became an increasingly distant personality. My overwhelming suspicion was that he was withholding a great deal from me, and, as a result, I really couldn't know the real reason why he slowly ceased contact over the remainder of that year. The matter preoccupied me terribly, though. Once 2002 began, I didn't hear from him at all, despite my own efforts to maintain a dialogue. He simply disappeared, and I haven't heard a peep from him since. [Though at least his parents had the decency to send the Clark household a Christmas card in Christmas 2001. Davey didn't actually sign his own name, though. How telltale.]

To this date, I don't know why. It really doesn't matter anymore, though, at the time, it really broke me emotionally. Here was this fellow I had invested so much of my time and concern in. I had gone out on a limb to comply with his idea that we meet in person. And I was only rewarded with neglect. I couldn't help but think that I deserved better, much better. If he had his reasons to cut things off with me, I at least wanted to know why. I'm that kind of person -- I'd rather be told the ugly, painful truth than fester in endless, insecure speculation. Evidently, though, Davey had too many problems with me, or, better yet, too many problems overall to bother. Maybe I'm better off not having the deal with them anymore, though I didn't handle his desertion very well at first -- not well at all. To make a long story a little shorter, Spring Semester 2002 I basically took an emotional plunge somewhere along the way and lost all semblance of mental stability. I had to drop two of my three classes and most of the medications that had been serving me well up until then were declared to have lost their effect, and I was promptly placed on new medications.

So, Davey, if you're reading this, thanks for SCREWING UP MY LIFE! Heh. The whole incident was thoroughly illuminating, though, and once I regained my bearings I came away with considerably more wisdom than I had before. And, hey, I'm a pretty forgiving person. If Davey was ever to contact me again, I wouldn't be malicious or anything. In fact, I wish the bloody bloke would drop me a line sometime. Still, that's not bound to happen, so if I manage to ever confirm the fact that he still exists somewhere, I'll have to drop him one and hope he has the decency to finally reply.

Hmm, okay, I say I'm a wiser person now, but then there's the matter I mentioned way, way back -- the fact that I'm in, I suppose, another crush right now. Third time the charm? That remains to be seen, though, preoccupying as an Internet infatuation can be, my objective side continually reminds me that anything resulting from this one is pretty damn unlikely. So, what's the deal? I spent all of 2002 recovering from you-know-what, and I've just been a pitiable loner for all of this year. I suppose it's about time I had some fun, even if it is just over the Internet (and thus the ultimate testament to the oft-repeated fact that Rachel Has No Life). The "guinea pig" for Rachel's emotional -- and, GASP!!!, theoretical-sexual -- experimentations this time is a fellow named Jason (such a common name that I should think he's safely anonymous). Unfortunately, he lives half-the-length-of-the-US away from me, though, still, he has his advantages over those previous two.

One odd thing about Jason is that, as a friend (which I'll certainly consider him at this point), he seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere. He'd been lurking on my AIM list for a year or so, and we'd never really gotten anywhere. To me, he was just "another Internet weirdo" with whom I'd have the occasional uneventful chat. Most of the time, actually, we'd just argue over stupid things that don't really matter in the grand scheme of things, so I treated him with a rather antagonistic -- and perhaps even "abusive" -- tone whenever he decided to randomly IM me. And, who knows how it happened, but all of a sudden, within an amazingly short time in the past month, breakthroughs were made. I pressed him to tell me why he continued to IM me even though I only treated him poorly, and, I suppose, that was a beginning.

He told me that he had long felt some kind of bond between us that he couldn't put it into words. I suppose any guy could go around using that as a pickup line, though I tried to handle my cynicism with care and I gave him a chance. We began to trade real-life tidbits and, it turned out, we did have something rather basic in common: Our essential psychological diagnosis. (Just to be mean, I won't reveal it here. I'm saying too much as it is.) While the diagnosis isn't especially rare, it's not especially common either, and I can't say I had ever really had contact with "one of my kind" before (even though there were supposedly a few at Sage Day, where I went for my senior year of high school). For whatever reason, this one basic similarity is what broke the ice between us, and a friendship commenced rather quickly.

Almost alarmingly quickly. The test of time is a rather telling thing, and that hasn't had a chance to prove itself as far as Jason and I go. I like to be cautious, and maybe even sometimes I might be a "control freak". But, really, the rate at which our conversations progressed... If something happens too fast, oftentimes that means it's destined to end just as quickly, which is not a fate I prefer for whatever friendships I actively invest in, whether in real-life or on the Internet. Perhaps the most disturbing thing about Jason and I is how quickly we marched from "barely acquaintances" to "intimate". [And, no, "intimate" does not have to have to mean that you sleep with someone. You can have intimate, platonic friends. Don't be afraid to tap the full usage of words that have developed specifically sexual connotations!] We were talking about some rather deep, but in my opinion essential, things -- such as trust, honesty, mutuality in a relationship between two people. ["Relationship" = another word whose meaning is broader than it is commonly given credit for...]

And it seems that, in many ways, our respective ideals -- at least, what we've been able to cover so far -- are compliant with one another. Almost amazingly so. Jason could possibly just be a dishonest scumbag who's just appealing to me and my taste in the way that some guys no doubt do, though, so far, I don't have any reasons to distrust him. We've been incredibly honest with each other thus far, and, more or less, we've been learning about one another on a quid pro quo basis. [I don't believe in one-sided relationships.]

But, heh, such honesty has had an unusual effect -- we've been rather, much as it pains me to admit it, flirtatious. Yes, it goes both ways. And sometimes it's been almost disturbingly, heh, tasteless. I've been questioning myself all along for it, too. Why am I doing this? Why? I generally consider myself a very decent, respectable person. I try to be prudent and not give myself to impulse without weighing out the consequences of my own actions. And, largely, this is how I live. Discussing something as deeply personal as my sexuality with someone I, technically, barely know strikes me as a pretty stupid thing to do. And the flirtatious aspect of it, which I really ought not to detail here, makes it even worse. When I finally told my mom the other day, during a car ride to get mammary supports (not that you really needed to know that), my "all in good fun" attitude soon melted into an intense bout of depression. Considerably more intense than my previous incident of note*, though, when it was over, any feeling I had been having of "tainting myself" seemed to have been effectively cleansed by my tears (ah, no shame in crying when you need to, despite the stereotype than only "wusses" cry; I think the strongest people are those who allow themselves to shed tears). At this point, I had the "epiphany" that I mentioned way, way back in this overly long entry, though that doesn't really have anything to do with what I'm discussing now, does it?

I wrote an e-mail to Jason which was, I have to admit, basically an attempt to "recover my decency", as it were -- perhaps at his expense. Some of it was a bit extreme, as I proposed replacing the AIM chats with e-mail-based correspondence and cutting down on the flirting altogether. Though, I suppose, those ideas were very short-lived, perhaps rightfully so. I do think that e-mail has its advantages to real-time, text-based correspondence (i.e., online chatting), though Jason has told me that he prefers chatting. Hopefully, though, if this relationship lasts as I hope it will, things will end up being half-and-half. (Especially since, when I go back to college, chatting becomes a very infrequent behavior for me.) As far as the flirting goes, I was a damned hypocrite about it and we were worse than ever in the chat following my e-mail. (Incidentally, Jason apologized for it afterwards, though I told him not to worry about it. It was just as much my fault as his.)

Okay, fine, I'll just spit it out. (This page is my personal confession booth, after all.) Most of the flirting has been along the lines of, "Would we 'hit it off' if we met in real life?" And not just "hit it off" in the compatible personalities way. Yeah, "hit it off" in the "oh dear, we're both young adults with the same basic antisocial tendencies who have enough trouble making friends, let alone finding a date, and maybe we're the only hope for each other to lose our respective virginities!!!". Hah, flawed thinking at its best... (Though, for someone as repressed as myself, such, erm, straightforward flirting is a rather guilty pleasure...) With over three billion members of the opposite sex for both of us to choose from, many of those considerably closer to home and having a possibly higher "compatibility rating" than the 74% Jason makeshiftedly guesstimated for us, the sort of things we've been mutually contemplating come across as being incredibly silly. I suppose as long as this is all online, though, it doesn't really matter. In the end, I keep my feet firmly planted on the ground (so to speak).

Still... The two of us seem to be getting along so well online it might be a shame not to actually meet sometime. Stupidly enough, Jason, long before I knew his name, was proposing to meet at an anime convention about a whole bloody year ago, though I don't know how serious he was and, obviously, I wasn't even about to comply with that. Now, though, my attitude is somewhat different. The soonest it could happen is in October, though the question remains as to whether it will. I'm twenty years old, and very soon I'll be twenty-one. I'm technically an adult, so I can technically make decisions for myself, though I do believe my elders, especially including my parents, have a lot of wisdom to offer me. I wouldn't go driving like an idiot out to the Chicago area or some other out-of-the-way place to meet someone for the first bloody time without my parents approving of the idea first. And, really, ever since "the whole Wales thing", no one in my family will let me forget that going off and meeting some guy that I have some sort of crush on probably isn't a good idea. They'd probably even object to the idea of me going just for the anime convention, since they're already supplying the funding for my sibs and I to go to Otacon next month. And now I want to go to another one, just months after Otacon but even further away? And maybe I'd even want to try going somewhere by myself for a change? Yeah friggin' right.

But, anyway... Time to bring this one to a close! If you've made it this far, congratulate yourself -- not only did you make it through my longest Banter yet, you know far more about Rachel than any person she doesn't personally know has any right to be aware of!! Blame my own faulty judgment for putting this stuff online. And now for some personalized messages that don't really belong here but whatever:

Morgan-kun: Assuming you've managed to put two and two together (and if you haven't, er, just ignore the rest of this message!!!), I hope you don't think any less of me after reading this one. Probably unlikely, considering the drawings of mine you've seen without thinking any less of me, but I do worry about such things...

Jason-kun: Hopefully none of the stuff I've said here is too surprisingly. If you have any queries, though, make sure you pass them by me.

* Just to briefly detail that "previous incident of note": I was attending a ceremony/dinner type thing at my college with my folks one night due to the fact that I had somehow acquired a little scholarship related to my efforts in the art field. The scholarship had seemed to come out of nowhere and -- until, later on, when I unintentionally discovered why and by whom I had been given it -- I hadn't really accepted it. Even despite the remarkable coincidence that my folks and I had sat at the same table as the donors from some local art association, that evening my brain was afflicted by depressive self-loathing. After dinner, when they started announcing the scholarships for the students who had been doing so much more with themselves than I had been, I couldn't take it any more, I had to leave before they could call me up, and I spent the car ride home in a tearful whirlwind of anger and self-spite. Good thing I don't hate myself all the time, otherwise I'd really be hopeless.

Today's Music: Hmm... "Kirche" music in general. I've been listening to my favorite Kirche songs while typing up much of this. Something about their music hits a very personal chord within me. Sure, they're in Japanese and I don't really understand most of it. Regardless, whatever Toshihiko Inoue and Noriko Mitose are relating through their songs, it moves me and puts me at a spiritual sort of peace. (Strictly speaking, I'm not a "spiritual" person, so I'm using the term loosely.) Of course, the fact that I'm probably one of the few people on Earth who has even heard of them makes it all the more personal. I think their music deserves to be heard more than it is, definitely.

rachel.k.clark@comcast.net