In the year 2009, on 9/9/9, I went to Seattle to live a year in solitude, intending to return 9/9/10. I meditated on the number 29, and my mantra became: 9 needs 11 to get to 22. I also knew I was looking for an earth sign, the Prince of Disks because how close he was or far away was a way I gauged if I was on my path. Then came my earth prince, a 9 like me.  9.20 9:02, arriving as a 22. We named him 29.

Sometimes you look at numbers and you think, they’re just numbers. And sometimes you see them and you get a glimpse of the code in the fabric.

So mostly it’s been technical problems. And simply plugging in for a while. I met a psychic years and years ago who told me once I get plugged in, everything will start falling into place. But I didn’t know how. Everything was an echo around me. I was always searching, searching, but so fearful of the dark. So I never really felt connected. To something bigger than me. To something that would have me interacting with people like normal human beings.

I think the first sign that my blog and I would drift was when my 29 broke. That number is me. I heard that there are certain communities who know me as 29. It’s who I am and what I represent. Then I couldn’t post from my phone anymore. I couldn’t post my thoughts in the moment. I couldn’t sit in public places and have conversations with my blog and an infinite echo. Sometimes I think about the guy who helped me make this blog in the first place. He was a lot younger than me, having an affair with a woman a lot older than me. He told me things had ended even though they still saw each other at the gym. I thought he was a friend of my brother’s so I trusted him, found him charming. But then when I found out he still had something going on with her–in that I flew in to surprise him once because he said he was feeling sick, and he didn’t cancel a “hang out and watch a movie” night he’d planned with her, I knew that it wasn’t going to work out. And I remember he got so mad at ME, like I’d used him and betrayed him.

Anyway, there are times over the years when I think about my broken blog and wish I could just ask him to fix it, because this thing once was the most precious thing to me, but I always completely cut things off when I realize it’s not the right path. I never move backwards, only forwards. I just carry all the memories with me.

Like Christian from Naples from the cruise. To be honest that same psychic told me I’d pissed him off with my words and to leave him alone so I did. She was some lady I’d met at a party, I don’t know if she was psychic or a psychic, but considering she didn’t even know that I had a blog and said that Jerry and I would be friends for a very long time which was true, I just assumed she was right. I’m timid with reaching out to people to begin with. But sometimes I think about him, and want to tell him that a Virgo turned out to be the love of my life.

People who knew me from back in the day ask me, do you still write? Not really. I write different things now. Some are good, some are functional. Every once in a while I get inspiration, but I let it pass a lot. I think mostly I got talking so much to myself. And I realized I’m somehow a mental sprinter with incredible endurance, but I don’t have the focus for marathons. Writing every tree while showing the forest was difficult for me. But I also wonder if when I die, I will leave behind one single work. And that will be my life’s masterpiece.

A gemini always needs at least two of everything. Maybe my one will be my greatness.



A new post! This thing has been like a ghost ship. So many things broke. Like 42. Why is it 42? I’ve never been 42. I will forever be 29. And now there’s a new 29 in my life. The only saving grace is that the search engines are blocked so I’m still hiding in plain site.


So much has happened since. The hardest thing has been not being able to send posts on the fly anymore since the link is broken. But soon…there will be another forum that will allow me to do that. And allow the rest of the world.

So much has changed even since my last post. The end of the year almost felt like the darkest of night, but isn’t that what they say, the night is darkest right before dawn? Such struggle, such despair, such unknown, and then suddenly…light.

That’s the thing about getting older though…you see things more clearly but the big difference is acceptance. Life marches on, life is the way it is, life is not easy, perfect nor a forever upward trajectory. But life is what you make of it, when you’re living life. And from there, it’s up to you to start living.

Two babies on the way. One to change the world. One to change my life. My life’s work. It’s gotten to the point where it’s no longer about dreaming, but about how do I tie up the strings and bring it to life. I hope and pray…to make an impact. This is what I will be remembered for.

Correction. This is the beginning of what I’ll be remembered for.

If you find that you’re draining yourself begging and fighting for someone to take care of you, this is a sign you’re really not taking care of yourself. You are fighting for something that simply isn’t there.

Self respect, Julia.

In a world of billions of people, if one person is not willing to be there with you, work with you, take care of you, why are you acting like there’s only one person in the world?

When you find that one in a billion, he will be there for you because he wants to be here and he is. There won’t be any questions. There won’t be any fighting. He’ll just be there. And in your heart, you will feel peace.

That’s how you will know when you have the one.

He asked me if I was not feeling good. I told him yes. Instead of doing something, dealing with it, saying we should talk about it, he got drunk.

He’s always thinking about things and that’s his substitute for doing things or addressing things. He thinks once he 100% grasps things, then he’ll deal with things, but you’ll never be able to understand everything. All that does is prevent you from dealing. Facing. Resolving.

Our dynamic is I give and give and then I realize he’s not giving back. When I point it out, it’s like pulling teeth until I want to leave. Then he gives, but what he gives is just a promise that he’ll give in the future, or that he’s here with me. Just being there is not enough. Just committing to be there is not enough. Commitment doesn’t end at just promising to always be there. And the cycle keeps repeating. What he gives me are these promises that he’s going to take care of me. He’s going to face things, deal with things. These are like that gift certificate. But when I go to redeem the things he says, that he be there in the moment with me, he’s gone. Like the certificate, when you go to redeem it, you find out it’s worthless. Except maybe for more promises.

I dreamed that there were spiders all over the bedroom, the thick black scary kinds. I yelled for him to do something and he went into the bathroom. I was yelling to hurry. I saw a big one crawl under the bed. Once you lose track of them, you don’t feel comfortable in your own bed because you know it’s somewhere in the room but don’t know where. I waited, thinking maybe he was grabbing a bunch of cups or doing something to be able to get all of them so that was why it was taking so long. Then I looked into the bathroom and he was looking at himself in the mirror, inspecting himself. I yelled at him, what are you doing??? I was panicked that he had no sense of urgency, angry with him. In my head, I said, “It’s over.” I can’t deal with this anymore.

The spiders are a symbol for our problems. If they aren’t taken care of they lurk, and you don’t feel comfortable in the place you need to feel safe because you know they’re there somewhere, but you don’t know when they’ll rear their ugly head. He knows I’m scared of spiders and I waited for him to come back and do something. I told myself to be calm, that maybe he was taking longer because he needed to grab more paper or cups to deal with all of them. But when I looked, he was looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe he really didn’t have a sense of urgency, or maybe he was scared of the spiders so that was his way of not dealing, or delaying. But in that moment, I knew that’s the kind of person he is and I just can’t count on him.


I like him, I really do.  But you gotta ask yourself if you can do this for the rest of your life.

what’s “this?” Thoughtlessness? Selfishness? Stinginess? What is this?

“This” is all of the above.  All of the crying, all of the arguing, all of the questioning, all of the problems, all of the fixing, all of the stories, all of the times you have to ask me for advice, all of the times you have to pull Shello away to talk to her, all of the times you close the door to talk to Jean.

“This,” is everything.

I know he has a good heart, and I know you’re not perfect either.  But you deserve better.



I wrote this. I almost didn’t recognize that I did! This was for the collection I wanted to write. Perspectives.


I knew this girl once, Mindy. Mindy was a star employee. She must have gotten straight A’s through high school but got sidetracked smoking pot in college and hanging out with the artsy crowd. She was an Asian girl who seemed to simultaneously look too deep into your eyes while not really looking into your eyes. She was so serious. So funny. So bizarre, so unknown. No one knew anything about her life outside of the office, and she never went to company social functions, always claiming she’d be out of town. She’d probably had a black boyfriend somewhere in her history, she just seemed like the type. But here she was in our office, always wearing conservative sweaters (usually black) with her hair tied back and glasses, always focused in her cubicle getting things done. She fucked our quota every month. We all hated her, but she was nice and she was a chick so we felt guilty for hating her. I think deep down we all secretly wanted to fuck her just to know what she was about. I remember my moment. It was one afternoon. We were on an emergency run to the printers for brochures, getting stuck in traffic on the way back. We’d never been alone together outside of the office, and we made idle, awkward conversation. I got a text from my ex, who was giving me shit about some money I owe her. Who’s that, she asked. My ex, I said. She’s fucking crazy. Mindy shook her head. If she’s crazy, why are you talking to her? She’s always texting me, I said. Then stop answering her!, she yelled. I was offended for a second, but then she burst out laughing. I started laughing too. It was such an obvious thing. And in that moment, I wanted to reach over into the sash of sunlight across her arm and touch her. I wanted to know her skin.

But that’s another story. So the company loves her. She’s a little quirky, takes the dress code monotonously, but she gets shit done. So everyone leaves her alone. Then one day, I get a message from my friend Rob in IT to come over to his cubicle.

I get there and he’s got this grin on his face, like the fucker’s sitting there with my toothbrush up his ass, just waiting for me to find out.

What’s up?, I say.

So…the company had me install a program so we can track communication coming in and out of the office. Emails, IMs, that sort of thing.

What? When did this happen?

Well technically no one’s supposed to know, so keep it on the DL. They just want to track what’s coming in and out of the company.

They’re spying on us?!?

Look, don’t lose the plot, man. Check this. I’ve been looking at the logs. Here’s what you’re messaging this morning. Business, business, asking Carl if he caught Family Guy last night, boring shit.

What’s your point?

Here’s what… Mindy was writing.

First of all, there were a lot of conversations. It looked like in a matter of a couple of hours, she’d had over 30 conversations with different people. How was she so fucking efficient?

What am I looking for, Rob.

Keep looking. Look for anything that might stand out.

I scrolled through quickly but it seemed like office stuff regarding logistics, follow-ups and internal communication. About three-fourths down the file, my eyes screetched to a halt. I saw the word.


I scrolled back up and Rob laughed knowingly.

She was talking to someone.

KAT8: hey
MindE614: what’s up
KAT8: need to ask you a question
MindE614: go for it
KAT8: do you ever have any problems getting a guy to come when you’re giving a blowjob?
MindE614: no
KAT8: oh
MindE614: well sometimes if they’ve already cum multiple times.
Kat8: oh
MindE614: why. What happened?
Kat8: I don’t know if it’s me and I’m not doing it right.
MindE614: are you massaging his balls?
Kat8: yeah, but I don’t do it very hard because I don’t want to hurt him.
MindE614: are you using your hand?
Kat8: what do you mean?
MindE614: you want to slide your hand along with your mouth, so it feels deeper. Use both hands, one to massage his balls and one to stroke. If you wanna be pro, try stroking his g spot while you massage his balls and if he’s getting close, pick up the pace but whatever you do, don’t alter the pace!
Kat8: ok, thanks. I’ll have to practice that.
MindE614: whatever you do, just relax. Have fun. Don’t make it work
Kat8: you’re the best! Hey are you going to andy’s bbq on Saturday?
MindE614: oh crap, I can’t make it. I’m going to be out of town.
Kat8: alright. We have to hang out sometime.
MindE614: for sure.
Kat8: bye

I was speechless. I look at Rob. He just looks at me like he needs a cigarette.

We need to date this girl to figure out what’s up, he says.

I laugh, and get back to work.

Later that day, I see Mindy leaving.

What are you doing this weekend, I ask her as she passes by.

Oh, I don’t know. A friend of mine is having a bbq.

Sounds great, I say. Have fun.

Thanks, she says and she walks away.

I went home and jacked off, coming so hard I nearly blacked out.

Best of Reddit’s Glitch the Matrix Board:

We have a breakfast laid on at work every morning, just a simple buffet of eggs, bacon what have you. Nothing huge and it’s really only to feed about a dozen people or so. I am usually one of the first guys from my team to get to work and the kitchen was deserted as usual. I walked into the little kitchen, there was a ceramic egg tray thing with 12 eggs in it, like the bottom half of an egg carton with a socket for each egg. All spaces are filled with warm freshly boiled eggs.

I take one, walk over to the garbage bin, shuck the shell then I walk back over to the food and stop dead. There are 12 eggs in the tray again. No one entered the room while I was peeling the thing. I touched the mystery egg it was the same temp as the other eggs around it.

Not a big thing, nothing major, but something very strange. Given one does not get presented with strange eggs from a parallel universe every day I peeled and ate that one too.


My grandpa was one of those jaded, “I don’t have emotions” kind of guys, even more so after his wife (my grandma) passed away naturally.

One Thanksgiving night, he just stood up and start talking to everyone very closely and intimately, hugging people, telling them he is proud and loved them, and that grandma was so happy to have the family she does; just basically acting 180 degrees opposite from his normal self.

That night, a burglar broke into his house and shot my grandpa dead when he tried to stop him from stealing a jewelry box from the living room (confirmed by the burglar, as written in the police report). We opened that box up when we were clearing out his house, and it had his and grandma’s wedding bands in it…

which creeped all of us out BIG TIME because he lost his wedding ring about a decade earlier.

I’m not sleeping tonight after recalling this story 🙁


This will probably get buried .. When I was around 20, a few years ago, I kept having dreams about a woman with long black hair named Aroura [ pronounced A-roar-uh) . They were different dreams but for some reason, her distinct face and name always ended up in them. It got to the point where I would wake up frustrated and confused, trying to google her name or find out how I was connected to her. After a few months she stopped showing up and I dismissed it, thinking my brain was just being a “scumbag.”

Fast forward a few years later, Halloween 2009, I’m in the car with a friend stopped at a gas station. I’m about to pull out and merge onto a highway when I get a phone call from a random number, so I stop the car but no one answered. There was a person behind me who grew impatient, honked at me, and then swerved in front of me instead of waiting for 2 seconds for me to move. Second they get on the highway, some silver civic loses control of their wheel and crashes into the car that swerved in front of me. I called the cops and waited at the gas station for them to come. Turns out the drivers of both cars died. It 100% would of been me if I hadn’t of got that phone call. Called it back a few hours later out of gratitude and curiosity, rang 3 times and went to voicemail. “Hi, you’ve reached aurora, please leave your name and number.” Never had goosebumps like that in me life.

Called it again the next day, because I was that confused about the whole situation.. Some woman answers, we get to talking, I tell her my entire story including the dreams I had. She tells me she doesn’t know how I got her number and that she never called me as far as she remembers. Weird. Ask her if she has a facebook to confirm if she is in fact the woman in my dreams.

Check her facebook, holy fuck, it’s her.

If that’s not a glitch in the matrix then I’m just bat shit crazy.


One time I spilled a bowl of Spaghetti-Os, and as I was cleaning them, I noticed that one was on the ceiling. 9 feet up.

I didn’t even DROP the bowl. I just tipped it over onto the counter by mistake… but sure enough, a single O was right there, stuck to the ceiling.


My dad had this little toy monkey that he used to call his “favorite child” and tease me and my siblings with it. Not in a bad way, but it was really frustrating to us and we spent hours trying to steal it from him.

Well anyways, one day we finally got it and threw it into the garbage after drawing on it and mangling it for a bit. We My dad laughed and searched for it a bit but basically figured we had thrown it out and gave up after a week or so.

Anyways, a few years later (when I was about 17), I’m walking down the street in Toronto (I don’t live in TO, was just visiting friends) and see this little orange object on the side of the road. When I walk over to it, I pick it up and see that it was the EXACT SAME FUCKING MONKEY. It even had the black sharpie lines on it from when we drew all over it. I honestly cannot even come up with the chances of that happening, especially considering our garbage is sent to a local dump and is nowhere near Toronto.


I used to work in a building that had three levels of sub-basements, with the piece of lab equipment I typically worked on in the lowest basement. I had the only key. There was a wired phone in there, and I did work late some nights… but not this night.

I was sleeping alone in my apartment when I woke up to a call on my cell phone from my girlfriend at 3 AM, she was in hysterics and asking why I scared her. Apparently she received a call from that basement phone just a minute earlier, with someone who sounded like me slowly repeating her name, until crackling and fading out. My apartment was 10 miles away from work. I thought she was lying, but I saw the 3 AM call from the basement phone logged on her cell myself. Still freaks me the fuck out.


My friend used to put up a recurring away message, back in the day when everybody had AIM. She was a Beatles super-fan and put up a sentiment from John and Yoko: “Acorns for Peace”.

Well, one day I was walking around my college campus thinking about it, but failing to remember the full quote. In my mind, I kept thinking, “Something for peace… something for peace… what the hell is that away message?!”

Right then, some chick on a cell phone walks by me and screams out “ACORNS!!!”

I realize this is not a super freaky story, but it made my day at the time. It’s not every day someone screams out “ACORNS” in your vicinity at the exact right time.


About two years into my relationship with my GF (we’ll call her Susan), I had a dream about my ex. Dream went like this:

I was in my room (at my mother’s house, where I lived at the time) slamming my ex. Balls to the wall sexing it up. I knew I was cheating on Susan, but didn’t care. So in the middle of it, I look over to the window (which you can see the back porch from) and Susan is there, watching us, crying and mortified. I then woke up.

I thought it was a weird dream, but dismissed it. A few days go by and Susan and I are hanging out in my room. She brings up this weird dream she had a few days prior, and describes my exact dream except from her POV looking through the window.


I put Peggy into a trance. She was aware that we were sitting at the far end of the long table and that she was at the other end. She wrote something automatically. Then she automatically folded her paper, folded it again, and automatically slipped it into her handbag. She didn’t notice any of that. All the rest of us did, I put her back in a trance and told her that after she awakened, she would automatically write, “It’s a beautiful day in June.” It was April.

She wrote that and after I showed it to her she said that she didn’t write it and that it wasn’t her handwriting. It certainly wasn’t her handwriting.

The following September she called me long distance from Indiana and said, “A funny thing happened today, and I think you’re connected with it—so I’ll tell you what it is. I emptied my handbag today. I found a wad of paper in it. I opened it and on one side was written, in a strange handwriting, ‘Will I marry Harold?’ It wasn’t my handwriting. I don’t know how that paper got into my handbag. And I have a feeling you’re connected with it. And my only connection with you is that lecture you gave in April at Michigan State University. Do you have any explanation of that piece of paper?”

I said, “I lectured at the university in April; that’s true. Now, were you by chance engaged to get married to anybody then?”

“Oh yes, I was engaged to Bill.”

I said, “Did you have any doubts about your engagement then?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you ever develop doubts about your engagement to Bill?”

“Oh, last June, Bill and I broke up.”

“What has happened since then?”

“Oh, in July, I married a man named Harold.”

“How long had you known Harold?”

“Oh, I knew him, by sight, during some part of the second semester but had never met him, never talked to him. I didn’t, till I happened to meet him by chance, in July.”

I said, “That handwriting ‘Will I marry Harold?’ was written by you, automatically, in a trance state. Your unconscious mind already recognized that you were going to break off with Bill and that Harold was the man who really appealed to you.” Her unconscious knew, months in advance, that she would break her engagement. The reason she folded it up was that, consciously, she couldn’t stand facing that fact in April.


About 4 or 5 years ago I worked at a Little Caesars Pizza. Usually I would work inside on the pizzas but we had just started up this Monday Madness deal where pizzas were only $4 on Monday so we needed someone to advertise. I was a wild and weird metalhead so I took up the position on Mondays of just going out there, throwing around a sign to get attention, and bring people in for pizza. Not exactly glamorous but I had fun.

One day while I was out there doing my thing I see a van coming straight at me. It jumps the curb and slams in to me and I feel it crush me against the electrical box controlling the street lights. I see a quick flash as the traffic lights flick off then black out.

I gasp and I’m still on the corner and nothing has happened. No van or anything. Well, I was a little shaken up so I decide to pack it up and walk back to the store for a break. I walk no more than 15 feet away from the corner when I hear a crash. I look back and a van just hopped the curb in to the electrical box and I watch the traffic lights flick off.

Needless to say, I took the day off. Still think about that from time to time.


When I was 15 I was incredibly depressed and struggling with my OCD and anxiety. It got to the point that I decided to kill myself. I arranged everything (Note, when, where, how etc.) and waited. I waited about a week until my parents went out to dinner. I attached a note to my door telling my parents not to come in and to just call the police, got dressed in my nicest clothes, showered, did my hair, and put a suicide note in my shirt pocket. My father had a number of guns and I chose one of them to do the deed with — a Beretta 92 handgun or something like that. I went into my bedroom, turned on some music and laid down on my bed. I put the barrel into my mouth, sang a few lines of ‘Freefallin’ through tears and pulled the trigger.

Then it went into a third person type thing where I was just watching myself. I saw myself laying dead on my bed, slumped over and bleeding everywhere. I watched myself lie in my own gore for what seemed like forever. Then suddenly it felt like all the wind get knocked out of me, and I was back in my body.


The gun jammed. I just threw it onto the ground and sobbed into my pillow for hours before cleaning up everything and going to sleep.

I have no idea what happened that day, but I’m more grateful than you can imagine. After that I really made an effort to turn my life around, and it did. It’s scary thinking that I wouldn’t be here right now if it worked.


Staying at friend’s house in rural Vermont. Awesome house, but very creaky with lots of dark corners. I’m in the kitchen, ready to head to bed, and I notice there’s a single light on in the family room loft.

I go up the loft stairs, check the light, and decide to leave it on for the cat.

I head back to the kitchen, grab a cup of water, and remember that cats have awesome night vision.

When I turn back around, the light is already off. I’m slightly spooked, but it’s an old house with bad wiring. I climb the loft stairs and flick the light switch. Nothing happens. I go to check the light bulb and there’s no light bulb in the lamp.



I was walking through my local mall with my friends, we entered a store and were browsing. The female clerk and I glanced at each other and both did an immediate double take. I walked over and talked with her, neither of us could place where we knew each other from…then it hit me. 4th grade. This was the girl that stabbed me in the nose with a pencil in 4th grade. I told her where I remembered her from and you could see it on her face she immediately remembered stabbing me. She started apologizing and talking about how crazy it was to run into me here. I told her not to sweat it. I was a little bastard back then.

Then she asked me what I was doing in Oregon. I figured she thought I moved or something considering I don’t remember her in any of the other grades before or after 4th. I explained I never left Oregon, or Portland for that matter. This really confused her. ‘So you just did 4th grade in Arizona?’ She said….Which confused the shit out of me. I told her I’ve never been to Arizona and did all my schooling in Oregon.

She then told me she’s lived in Arizona her entire life. She had just moved here to start college.

We both remember going to school together and her stabbing me. Apparently we did it from different states though.


About 7 years ago, I lived overseas in the middle east. I played hockey (surprisingly yes, hockey exists there) and naturally made a bunch of friends doing it. Fast forward 7 years to a few days ago in Canada, where I now live.

My roomate’s boyfriend came over and we were talking about setting up a time to get some people together and get a few drinks before he leaves for the summer. I get his number as he’s leaving, and once he’s out the door, I text him my name to give him my number. He texts back “hey, is this really Kuuz?”. I figure he’s just kidding around and I don’t bother responding.

The next morning I was walking downtown with my housemates in a crowd of about 800 people or so (I live in a pretty big city and this was in the middle of downtown during a small street festival) and I bumped into this girl I met once a couple of weeks prior. We exchange the usual niceties and she mentions she’s with some friends that apparently know me. I go to meet them and was shocked to see it was an old hockey buddy from the middle east with whom I haven’t spoken in almost 7 years and his sister. They had just arrived in Canada recently. This is where it gets weird though. We talk for a bit and do the usual catching up, when he mentions, “Hey, I actually got a text from you yesterday”. I thought he was kidding until he pulled out his phone and showed me. Turns out it was the exact text exchange between me and what I thought to be my housemates boyfriend from the day before. So in short, by some ridiculous coincidence, I mistyped my buddy’s number into my phone and texted who turned out to be an old hockey friend that I hadn’t seen or talked to in 7 years who had also just arrived in Canada, then proceeds to bump into him in a huge crowd of people downtown not 12 hours after the initial exchange. What. The. Fuck.


I go to a university in a rather large city and on Thursday mornings I have a lecture at 9:30 in the morning. Well I overslept this morning and it isn’t really a big deal for me because the professor doesn’t take attendance and I just take the notes down over the weekend from her website. No, the strange part about this morning was the fact that I dreamed I was walking on 8th street towards my class. It was very blurry and windy. Like I was there but not really there. I saw one of my friends but kept going without acknowledging him. I suddenly jolted awake, thirty minutes after class started, and saw that I had an unread text message, from the very same friend I saw in my dream which goes as follows: “Was that just you? On 8th street? Or was it your double?”


When I was 9 my father died in a car accident. I was really upset about it for years but eventually managed to kinda block it out of my head. Anyway, i was at the movies with a friend when i was 19 and when we were going in, a little girl ran up to me shouting that she used to be my dad and that she missed me and not to forget. She looked around 10 years old but I’m not sure…. She was with an older woman who apologised and told me the girl had mental issues. I had never seen them before, and i have never seen them since. I still wonder about that a lot!


I work in a call centre, and on my screen, have a list of all the calls I’ve taken during the day. I can see either the number that called me, or if it’s an internal call, the name and their extension number.

This morning I went to answer a call that dropped off immediately. I looked at my call list, and saw that it had come up as a missed call, which is no big deal, and the time listed was 9:23. Then I noticed that I had a second missed call, an internal one: Kylie on 2299. I didn’t remember missing it, so I checked the time: 9:29. I checked what the current time was, and it was still only 9:23.

Not thinking much of it, I brushed it off as a glitch on my system. A few minutes later, I was up at the fax machine, and as I was up my phone started ringing. I walked back over to my desk to try to get the call and could see who it was: Kylie on 2299. The call dropped off before I could get it, and I looked at the time: 9:29.

I called her back and asked if that was the second time she’d called me today, but she said it was only the first. Once I’d checked my call list again, there was only the one missed call. It just listed itself 6 minutes early…


About 10 years ago, I drove a piece of shit 1990 Honda Civic. It was black and the front bumper was all fucked up. For whatever reason, I also had a Rasta front license plate. One night, I was driving to the airport to fly out to Chicago (from Kansas City International) for Thanksgiving. As I was driving, I noticed a strange white car that was like no car I’d seen before. It was going slow, so I passed him. He followed me all the way to the airport until we went to separate terminals.

Fast forward to a few months* ago. I was flying out at 7:05 to Florida via KCI for Thanksgiving (my parents had retired). Driving along, I noticed almost nobody on the road with me. A few minutes later some asshole behind me turns on his brights. I look in the mirror and think “what a piece of shit car!” Then I shat bricks. That was my fucking car, busted bumper and all, from like 1999-2002 (don’t remember what year the original flight was). So how did that car manage to stay alive since I sold it?OH SHIT, HOLD ON! I noticed the fucking Rasta license plate. It’s cool, Rasta stuff is pretty popular. Now, after reading several GITM posts, I was starting to think maybe something is off here. I looked out my window just in time to see him passing me. We drove to the airport. Seperate terminals.

I drive a white Jetta.

William just told me that R feels like he can’t win any arguments with me, that it’s always I’m right, you’re wrong and here’s 10 reasons why. Now I’m frustrated again, and remember why it’s so hard talking to him. He puts his ego first and takes things personally that it’s hard to talk to him. He goes from non-responsive to defensive and then things turn into an argument. He’s asking William and Shello if they’ve ever had an argument with me, that I’m impossible and the answer is yes, we’ve had disagreements but it never turns into an argument because we listen to what each person is saying. I’m known as a very strong personality but I’m also known as a reasonable person. But when I come to him and say, hey, I’m was kind of hurt by this and I want to know what this means, I actually WANT to be told I’m WRONG…ie if I worry that his saying this means he’s not committed, I want him to say, no I’m AM committed and this is why your interpretation doesn’t add up.

At the beginning, he used to say things that were defensive and I took the approach of letting him have it, saying, if that’s what you want to think, I’ll take it, even though it was completely wrong. And then he would back off of it because he knew it was wrong. But that was creating such bad feeling. So now yes, I cut him off if he’s saying something that is defensive and moving us in the wrong direction.

What I wish is that he wouldn’t make things about himself in those moments. If I bring something up, doesn’t matter how upset I am, this is an opportunity to bring us closer together. When I’m upset and he makes it about him, he’s being selfish. I’ve told him before that I don’t always come in with the right attitude, but a lot of time it’s how he handles it that escalates things. I know I need to have a better approach and also be more patient with him, and I’m committed to working on that. And this is what I need to see from him–not putting his ego first, or automatically getting hurt and shutting down.

When I bring things up, it’s not about winning. I’ve never been about winning and anyone who’s ever played sports with me knows. Winning is just a measurement of a good game, but I always cheer the other team on if they do something good. When we talk, it’s about wanting him to understand how I feel, not about telling him I’m right and he’s wrong, because that’s not what it’s about. I’m looking for some freakin’ understanding, not a win. But when he gets defensive, I feel like I’m trying to adjust his perspective on it to make it more conducive to resolving the issue, so that’s why I give examples, and it ends up being 10 examples because he’s not saying anything and I’m trying to so hard to communicate.

I feel he really doesn’t get me, and he takes my efforts for granted. He puts his ego and fear in front of me, and then resents me. That’s why I seem like I’m in and out. There’s no room for me if that’s how he deals with conflict. It’s so hard to talk to him.

I’m always the first to admit when I’m wrong. But if there’s no wrong and right, and he assumes he did something wrong or that I’m saying he’s wrong, then it turns into a wrong/right because his perspective and approach in this way is wrong. I’m talking to him because I’m telling him there’s something wrong (not that he’s wrong) and I want it fixed. He then spirals it into an argument.

It doesn’t work. But it’s not on my side to change for this one. I can work on changing my approach, exercising more patience, letting him speak and listening, but he has to change his mentality in these things. There’s no place for ego in a discussion. He’s projecting ego onto me and that’s causing so many problems that it makes it impossible for me to stay.

My greatest fear is that he thought owning a tiger would be fun, but he realized he really wants a cat.

A tiger is a tiger. I can’t do anything about my claws except meet a man who can tame me without taking away my tigerness.

Oh man…this is why I don’t get involved with people. It’s too painful.

When I’m asking everyone for advice, it means I already know the answer.

Julia, the right guy will make himself known. He will actively make plans with you and take steps to realize those plans. He will want to take care of you and put you first because he is a man and you are his woman. When things are good he will be next to you sharing those times and when things are not good, he will be fighting those circumstances (not you) to make them right. When you are sad or mad, he will immediately show he cares and actively try to resolve things because he will be protective of both you and the sacred bond between you and will see this as an opportunity to bring you closer. When he is sad or mad, he will tell you because he will want it fixed and he wants to give you the chance. You should never have to fight to get your feelings heard or understood. You should never have to fight to get a man to love you, take care of you or be there for you. You should never have to justify your feelings in order to get him to take them seriously. He will, because he is serious about you.

Julia, THIS is your man.

At least I fought for it. Well, I guess now you’ll know how badly he wants it.

Today I went to my parents house for lunch and my dad happened to be in the garage. As soon as I saw him I burst into tears. He talked to me and I told him what was in my heart. I asked him as someone who wants to see me happy and wants the best for me, what should I do. His face suddenly started trembling and tears welled up in his eyes. His voice cracked. He said, “Every night I pray for two things. That your brother will get better and that you’ll find a good man who loves you and takes care of you.”

That’s when I realized the depth of his love and worry.

Yes you will.

What does that mean when you’re one month into a relationship, people guess you’ve been dating for 5 years, and now people guess 2 months.

I am both my life and my artificial life.

Adrian is ArQnet?
29. 29.
March 29th.


Don’t get mad. Just do what he does. When you go out of town, hold back and selectively respond. It’s not about having a “different relationship with your phone.” It’s about having different relationship expectations. It could be about different values. But see how he feels, how you feel. End of the day you need to be happy. Probably if the relationship makes you feel this insecure, your needs are not being met. You have to examine if your needs are reasonable. If they are and he can’t adjust, well, there you are. You have your answer.

Imagine being really good at something but not really liking it.

Shawn Bradley about basketball. Me about sex.

And then, it finally clicks.

There’s only one. There was ever only one.