Under Construction

So, I've been meaning to change a few things on the layout of the blog. I'm going to spend the next week, or two weeks, or year fixing it up. Hopefully I won't break anything in the meantime, but you'll be seeing some changes for a while. I'll post when I'm done, and maybe talk a little about what's happening.

I should note that the commenting section is being worked on as well. Right now, if you leave a comment, there's a chance it'll disappear, so if you've got something important to say, hit me up at my email.

Sesquipedalis@gmail.com

Nerd Word(s): Don't Take My Shoelaces Away

Don't Take My Shoelaces Away
- Statement

1. "I'm fine"

[ Origin: I believe that when prisoners or mental health patients are suspected of being suicidal, their shoelaces are taken away, or they are given shoes without them for fear of strangulation by shoelace. ]

- usage
1. "Man, when Ron Artest got that rebound and put back, that had to be one of the worst moments as a Suns fan. Are you going to be okay?"
"So long as Steve Nash is a Sun, you don't have to take my shoelaces away."

2. "There's a rumor that Miyamoto won't be directing the next Zelda game."
"You don't have to take my shoelaces away until we at least see how it turns out."

Good Mourning Rachael: Part 3

After a few months of being together, things got a little bumpy. While I tend to lead a carefree and easy life, Rachael was working six days a week, and putting in a lot of effort to make sure all the ends met up at the end of the month. On top of that, she was now putting up with my dumb ass eight or more hours a day. All of this added up to one stressed out monkey who had been uncharacteristically unhappy. For me this was just a hurdle that we'd get over together and continue on our way. After all, her problems were now my problems, and if there's one thing I can do in this world it's problem solve. I saw it all as a speed bump on our road to forever. Unfortunately, as I often do, I underestimated what was really going on.

I did my best to assist with the small things. I tried to help with the laundry, and when she refused, I went and found a laundry service. I sent flowers to her work, and when she accidentally spilled wine on her carpet, I rushed out to find an appropriate cleaner. It wasn't much, but she was a tough person to take care of. I'd screwed up before in my life by not putting enough effort in. This time, I wasn't letting that happen.

One day Rachael left on a trip to visit her sister in Chicago. There had been a little emotional distance between us, and I hoped that the physical distance would make her miss me and maybe bring back the good times. I also thought that a little time away from every day life would do her some good. I dropped Rachael off at the airport. What I didn't realize at the time was that I was saying goodbye to my girlfriend Rachael. The girl who came back was just my friend.

Stress and responsibilities had overwhelmed the girl that I cared so much for, and in the end something had to give. In this case, I was that something.

And just like that, the girl who this very blog brought to my door and I were no longer a couple. While the story of how we met was, in my opinion, quite remarkable, the story of how we parted was typical in most regards. There were a few attempts at reconciliation, a few distraught late night calls, and a few sappy emails. In the end though it wasn't enough, and one day she was just gone.

Were you expecting a better ending? Sorry about that. The extra U in the title wasn't because I was feeling particularly British or anything.

When you write a blog that's basically a sitcom representation of your life, you tend to leave the bad things out and therefore some stories never get their proper ending. The truth is that sometimes Ross and Rachel just don't end up together. But that doesn't mean it's the end of the world.

For me, this blog is a lot about perspective. My people, the nerds, tend to be an overly emotional and sad lot. That's a little bit of self fulfilling prophecy. It's probably easy to see this as a sad tale of the nerd who didn't get the girl, but you'll notice that a solid two thirds(Or more) of the story are about how much I truly cared for her(And still do). I've spent my whole life wanting to spend a decent portion of it alone, so to enjoy someone's company that much was honestly groundbreaking for me. While the story itself doesn't have a perfect ending, there are really a lot of positives to take away.

So, hopefully I didn't bum anyone out. I've already had two people tell me this story was utterly depressing, and I hadn't even gotten to the bad part yet. Don't worry about me, I don't write about things until I'm cool with them. There's no need to take my shoelaces away.

Good Mourning Rachael: Part 2

Despite my first failed attempt at romance, two weeks later Rachael and I were inseparable. Every morning was a struggle on my part to get her off to work, followed by a day of exchanged emails and texts. The day was broken up with lunch, and the afternoon of work was just a break in the action before some night time event. It didn't really matter if it was Sushi and a night out or curling up on the couch to catch up on True Blood, a show I didn't even like. So long as Rachael was there, it was the perfect evening.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to hold hands. I wanted to skip through the park and have picnics. I was completely cheesy and I couldn't have cared less. When Rachael wasn't around, I missed her like a fat kid on The Biggest Loser misses cake. I talked about her to the point that people told me to knock it off. Even I knew it was annoying, but I couldn't help it.

I was that guy. I was in love.

To the outside world, the relationship was probably completely nonsensical. There were times that a look was enough to induce pants-wetting laughter. We practically spoke our own language, and rarely discussed anything serious. We didn't have time for that. We were too busy cracking each other up and joking around.

One morning the alarm went off. Rachael had to be up three hours before I did, but I always made an effort to get her up and going. I am a morning person. She is not. Rachael is not a morning person like I am not a Lakers fan.

The alarm went off, and as I reached to silence it, I was mauled by the tiny girl to my side with a cry of, "I missed you!"

It was a silly moment the likes of which you'd see in Rachel McAdams movie. The girl proclaims to have missed the guy while she was sleeping in the same bed. Normally I'd have been the first to call bullshit, but truth be told, I kind of missed her too.

That day I realized that this was it. This was how I wanted to wake up every day for the rest of my life. We had only known each other a few months, and I knew it was far too early to become so emotionally invested, but I didn't care. I was all in.

Nerd Word(s): White Picket Fence Syndrome

White Picket Fence Syndrome
- Affliction

1. An overconfidence in life/fate.

[ Origin: In my teenage years, I seemed to be the confidant to many members of the opposite sex. Despite being straight, I was essentially their gay boyfriend. A number of people, especially women in their youth, think that life's journey will be a complete storybook, without bumps along the way. ]

- usage
1. "She wants to date for two years, then get engaged. The honeymoon is going to be in Hawaii. Then we get married, and move out to the suburbs by her parents. She wants to have two kids, and she already has their names picked out."

"Man, sounds like a weird second date. Total White Picket Fence Syndrome."

Good Mourning Rachael: Part 1

If I'm guilty of one sin throughout the writing of this blog, it's most definitely of not finishing a story. Now now, I know what you're thinking. "One sin? You also suck at spelling, grammar, character development and..." Yeah yeah, I get it, but just roll with me here. The problem is that hope and newness is easy to write. Disappointment is just, well, sad. Still, it seems that if this blog is to be the narrative of my life(Or some representation of it), then I could serve it well by finishing a story.

If you need to catch up on the first part of this story, you can do so by clicking here and reading from the bottom up.

I was pretty excited after meeting Rachael. I don't think I've ever had such a good first impression in my life. It felt like I had just met my best friend again for the first time. She was smart, funny, personable, and everything just seemed to "click" in a way that hasn't happened since I was too ignorant to realize that there was something other than "clicking". Oh yeah, she was also breathtakingly gorgeous. My worry, as always, was that I had said something stupid or scared her off.

Should I call and ask her to lunch again? Should I play it cool? Will that come across as needy? Should I be aggressive?

I was shocked two days later when the phone rang and it was Rachael, asking me to lunch again. Another hour long meal passed in the blink of an eye, proving that the first meeting wasn't just a random aligning of the stars. We parted ways, but this time my fears were put to rest. One time might be lucky, but twice in a row was something right?

The meals and good times continued on for a couple of weeks, and despite the fact that she was one of the most amazing women I'd ever met, I was steadfast in my romantic stance. I was not getting a crush on a girl who was so ridiculously out of my league.

Spurred on by either my frequent disappearances around noon, or the new ear to ear grin that was permanently plastered to my face, Sean decided to question me as to what was really going on.

"So... are you interested? Are you going to make a move or what?"
"I don't know. You know how when you first meet a crazy cute girl, and there's all this sexual energy you hold back?"

"Sure, I guess"

"Well, it's nothing like that. I mean... I'm attracted to her, but that's so secondary. I just really want to spend all of my time with her. When she's around, we're constantly laughing and... I don't know. It sounds cheesy, but just happy."

"That's not the girl you date bro," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "That's the one you marry."

And that's when it sort of hit me.

Long time readers may find this hard to believe, but I had never been dumped in my life. In fact, every romantic relationship in my life had ended for the exact same reason: I just always enjoyed my personal space too much. I'm fond of saying, "I don't know how guys cheat on a woman. Who needs 2? I only want a girlfriend 3 days a week. I need a time share woman."

But it wasn't that way with Rachael. Every meeting left me hungry for the next, and every joke made me laugh a little more. She was like Zpizza. I never got tired of her.

Finally I decided I had to make a move. I didn't want her so much as I just always wanted her around. The medium hotness rule was thrown out, and one night as we lay next to each other discussing something silly I decided it was time.

A million things raced through my mind. What should I say? What should I do?

What didn't race through my mind was the fact that we were laying in complete darkness, and since I have yet to develop super power night vision or obtain retinal implants from a secret government experiment, I couldn't see a thing. I had never been more nervous in my life as I leaned slowly over, inching closer and closer.

I puckered up, and landed squarely... on the nose.

Shit

In a feeling that would soon become common for me with Rachael, nervousness quickly turned to embarrassment. She would respond with what would become the cornerstone of our relationship. She doubled over in laughter.