Someday I'll thank you if I see you around, but for now I'll just keep this letter to myself...

I'm in a rut. From time to time I become extremely reclusive, and it takes its toll. I no longer feel the desire to see anybody, and become even less social than normal(if that's even imaginable). I become irritable; I become irrational; I become paranoid. It's almost as if I become Truman, only instead of trying to escape, I'm trying to hide.

Poor Catherine, she has to put up with this. It's funny though, how little the reclusive state seems to affect how much I want to see her. If anything, it makes me want to see her more. I love her. I love her more than I've loved anybody before. In fact, she's the first girl I can legitimately see myself (gulp) marrying. I embrace her imperfections, instead of using them to push her away. She doesn't hang me on my insecurities, but rather takes them into consideration. She loves me for who I am, the selfish, caring, intelligent, dumb, silly, gawky, awkward, dorky, nerdy, loving, compassionate, obsessive person I am. And I love it. I love it that I can be comfortable in my skin, and not have to be something else. She's uber feminist, but she plays domestic housewife for me: taking care of me when I'm sick, cooking me dinner, even cleaning out my car. You know, thing's I don't do for myself. But she does it out of love.

We had our first real fight today, over something silly and unimportant. She's struggling with things, as am I, and they both took their toll. But instead of yelling and name-calling, we talked it out and an hour later we were laughing again. It's moments like this where I feel sorry for people who have to work at their relationships. I feel sorry for people who have to fake it. We don't. Sure we have our ups and downs, but it's still so simple. She doesn't get upset over the stupid comments I make like my obsession with Pam Beesly (and quite frankly, Ms. Beesly doesn't hold a candle to Cat). She shrugs it off. She point's out girls that are checking me out; not in a bitchy 'why is she looking at you' way, but in a 'yeah, that's right you can look but he's mine' kind of way. To sum it up, we just don't have to work at being happy and making our relationship work, it just does.

And that's why we're so happy. That's why things like laying in the backseat of a car for hours or watching movies on a couch just work for us. Why we don't have to spend money we both don't have to be happy. That's why something as silly as dancing in the moonlight, swaying while I sing to her "I'll love you forever if I ever love at all" makes her fall in love with me, and her singing back "with wild heart's, blue jeans and white t-shirts" makes me want to spend the rest of my life with her. That's why we're both so excited to see Richmond, Va on our (possible) trip to DC (more on that at a later date) because maybe we'd like to end up there. That's why we go eight or nine days at a time where we see eachother, and can't go more than a day without it. Say what you want, that we're young, that this is still new; whatever. The truth is that I've been around the block. I've experienced my share of relationships, and because of that I know how special that is. To quote the Lawrence Arms : "I know what I've got, and I love what I know."

And, to tie everything back in, that's why I'm content with being reclusive. Because I have what I need. I'm in love, and nothing else matters.


Well, maybe winning my fantasy game today... LETS GO ARIZONA's DEFENSE!!! Ugh, I feel so dirty rooting against the 49ers but lets face it, their season is long over.

Are you ready for some (fantasy) football?

After two weeks of bullshit losses (one by one point to Scott Oliverio, and another because I forgot to set my line up and had Randy Moss on the bench) my fantasy team is back up to .500. Even more impressive, they took down Jason's team, the number one team in the league. It took a huge effort from Drew Brees (my fantasy MVP,) Thomas Jones and Marvin Harrison, but I took a 109-102 win from a team averaging just about 130 points a game. I'm also just one game out of first now. Sigh, if only my underachieving wide receiver crew (Santonio Holmes, Randy Moss, Marvin Harrison and Issac Bruce) could step up and do something.

It's times like these that I feel I have no social life what-so-ever.

So for my journalism class (forgive me, I'm bad with "class number" or "official titles" so it's just my journalism class for now) I had to attend a Fullerton city function, which is all well and good but I don't live in Fullerton. So I took Catherine and headed off to a Parks and Recreation Commission council meeting. Let me tell you, it was about as fun and exciting as it sounded. Hearing people discuss naming rights on some building at some community center I'm not familiar with or the size of plaques on memorial tree's I didn't know existed made me wonder "is this where my tax dollars are going?" Then I realized that I don't live in Fullerton, nor do I have (serious) political aspirations, and I let it go. Plus, I was freezing cold and wasn't in the mood to bitch, like I am now.

I think I'm getting sick. It sucks. I hate getting sick, because I won't go to the doctors unless I absolutely have to, and I'm extremely forgetful when it comes to taking medication regularly. So I suffer until my entire body shuts down. Plus I work and go to school full time, and I hate calling in sick to work and usually that's not an option anyways. And they wonder why I ask if I can use my sick pay for vacation time. Catherine, in the meantime, is playing nurse, making me eat spicy foods, drink orange juice, and get lots of rest. Last night I took her advice and ordered a fajita from Chili's. I ate about a third of it before my stomach started acting up. The fajita is currently sitting in the back of my car, and the mentioning of food makes my stomach turn. But that's a completely different illness altogether. Ugh, I'm dying.

I'm not going to sit here and get preachy (despite the fact that I have the tendency to) but I do feel I need to say something here about Proposition 8. For those of you who don't know what it is, proposition 8 is trying to define marriage in the California state constitution as marriage between a man and a woman. I just don't understand this? Why is same-sex marriage so threatening to the American public? There are far worse things in this world than a same sex couple. How about the video games your children play. You fear they'll grow up "gay" if they see same-sex couples, but aren't afraid they'll turn into Dexter if they play Grand Theft Auto? Give me a break. And who are the government to tell us who we can and can't marry? Homophobia needs to stop people. Vote NO on proposition 8.



I need to get ready for school.

so sick, so sick of being tired, and oh-so-tired of being sick

I'm a mess. My stomach has acted up all day. I blame it on the Sobe Adrenaline I drank right before my Mass Media Ethics class. I'm sleep deprived. I spent six hours on the phone last night, which is something unheard of. I'm not complaining about the conversation, I'm complaining about the lack of sleep I've been getting. I'm stressed. I'm taking school much more serious than I have previously. I want out. I want to be done. I want to move on and get on with the next part of my life. I'm tired of my boring job. I'm tired of being expected to do more because I'm the only male under 30. I'm not happy that I'm not paid more than I am. I'm all for equality, but equality means just that. I'm not expecting women to do the jobs I do, but I do expect to be compensated the way I should be compensated. It won't happen. If it weren't for health benefits I'd probably quit. I'm tired of Randy Moss ruining my fantasy team. I know Tom Brady is out, but he needs to prove that it was him, and not Tom, that made last year's Patriots so dominant. Two fantasy points are not going to cut it. I'm sick of the same three song's I've been listening to the last three weeks. I'm sick of Sarah Palin's face.

Final Summation:
I'm sick of being sick. I'm tired of being tired. I'm sick of ranting. It gets me nowhere. It doesn't comfort me. It doesn't calm me. It infuriates me more. Ugh...

At least I have a couple things going for me.