July 2006

Today has been, a long day…

Subject: Today has been, a long day…

Date: Thursday 7/27/06 1:07:00 AM

On the way to campus, I was in the left turn lane. In front of me, is a mustang. My car starts smoking, like mad, from the hood…I smell burning. Now, I know that a car has four tires and if you’re lucky, a steering wheel and I also know that cars are, as a rule, not supposed to smell like they’re burning and therefore the smoke that was pluming up from my motor vehicle was a bad thing.

So I make the turn, pull into a paring lot immediately, whip out my cell phone and the first number on my speed dial is AAA.

My car is now in the shop. I then walked the three or so miles to Campus because it was nice weather and I wasn’t going to harass anyone for a ride when I’m capable of walking on the two feet that evolution gave me.

Anyways, done with classes for the week, now for four days of rest.

Good night everyone.

Today has been, a long day…

Subject: Today has been, a long day…

Date: Thursday 7/27/06 1:07:00 AM

On the way to campus, I was in the left turn lane. In front of me, is a mustang. My car starts smoking, like mad, from the hood…I smell burning. Now, I know that a car has four tires and if you’re lucky, a steering wheel and I also know that cars are, as a rule, not supposed to smell like they’re burning and therefore the smoke that was pluming up from my motor vehicle was a bad thing.

So I make the turn, pull into a paring lot immediately, whip out my cell phone and the first number on my speed dial is AAA.

My car is now in the shop. I then walked the three or so miles to Campus because it was nice weather and I wasn’t going to harass anyone for a ride when I’m capable of walking on the two feet that evolution gave me.

Anyways, done with classes for the week, now for four days of rest.

Good night everyone.

Back in Buffalo

Subject: Back in Buffalo

Date: Monday 7/24/06 11:11:00 PM

Mood: sleepy

Back in Buffalo.

As much as I love my parents house and my family; it feels good to just be able to settle right back into my apartment. It’s like the entire apartment’s just one, nice, comfy pair of old birkenstocks…if that makes sense at all.

Just a quick update: when I got in I went straight to Campus where Prof. P had me take the exam from a week ago (which randomly contained a chart on Grimm’s Law which I had to fill in phonetically) and I got a 90 on the quiz, which was just fine, given that it was two weeks ago now and I haven’t looked at a book since then; since I wasn’t actually planning on a trip home to NYC/LI; he then attempted to give me six hours of instruction in fifteen minutes…this didn’t work too well, but he drops the lowest quiz grade which means I have around a 95% to a 97% in the class for an overall A or A-.

Eli was kind enough to drive me to the train station to pick up my car…and then to jump my car because the battery died (I have no idea why) and then to not kill me because the only way I knew how to get home was to go through the city of Buffalo…though, he may kill me later so if I go missing, you know who to blame.

Tomorrow morning I’m dropping my clothes off at the Wash and Fold so that’s one activity out of the way, and then I’m vacuuming (which isn’t strenuous given the size of my tiny Orek) and then resting until 4pm when Eli comes to take the couches.

And now, it is certainly time for bed.

G’night all =)

Back in Buffalo

Subject: Back in Buffalo

Date: Monday 7/24/06 11:11:00 PM

Mood: sleepy

Back in Buffalo.

As much as I love my parents house and my family; it feels good to just be able to settle right back into my apartment. It’s like the entire apartment’s just one, nice, comfy pair of old birkenstocks…if that makes sense at all.

Just a quick update: when I got in I went straight to Campus where Prof. P had me take the exam from a week ago (which randomly contained a chart on Grimm’s Law which I had to fill in phonetically) and I got a 90 on the quiz, which was just fine, given that it was two weeks ago now and I haven’t looked at a book since then; since I wasn’t actually planning on a trip home to NYC/LI; he then attempted to give me six hours of instruction in fifteen minutes…this didn’t work too well, but he drops the lowest quiz grade which means I have around a 95% to a 97% in the class for an overall A or A-.

Eli was kind enough to drive me to the train station to pick up my car…and then to jump my car because the battery died (I have no idea why) and then to not kill me because the only way I knew how to get home was to go through the city of Buffalo…though, he may kill me later so if I go missing, you know who to blame.

Tomorrow morning I’m dropping my clothes off at the Wash and Fold so that’s one activity out of the way, and then I’m vacuuming (which isn’t strenuous given the size of my tiny Orek) and then resting until 4pm when Eli comes to take the couches.

And now, it is certainly time for bed.

G’night all =)

“I’m like “they rejected Matt, whose resume is 5 miles long?!” ~ Natalie

Subject: “I’m like “they rejected Matt, whose resume is 5 miles long?!” ~ Natalie

Date: Monday 7/24/06 2:24:00 AM

Tags: blog: tag me

Wow, lots going on.

First and foremost I was given a contact the other day and was told I have to email this guy

I looked up his credentials, and they’re beyond impressive (stunning doesn’t even begin to describe it). He’s gay, married for over 10 years, has three kids. He’s Fluent in 13 languages (three of which are Arabic, Hebrew and Ladino) and he works in Applied Linguistics.

The person who wants to put us in touch with each other knows my credentials (which, compared to the guy I’m supposed to email…well, let’s just say he’s the Olympic swimming pool of credentials and I’m the inflatable kiddie pool with duct tape version of credentials). Anyways, the guy who wants to put us in touch with each other told my mother to pass on the contact information and she did; so now I’m writing him an email tonight, trying to not sound like a tool (and perhaps succeeding, we’ll see) and hoping he’ll be kind enough to answer around four or five thousand questions.

Rosetta Stone: Arabic

I’m getting the Rosetta Stone Arabic software for my Birthday; I’m not so much impressed by the fact that the State Department uses it (I have almost no confidence in my Government…I have confidence in (some) of the people of my country, just…not so much in what Washington thinks is a good idea or not. Think I’m crazy? Watch Reefer Madness and realize that they produced that gem to make people NOT want to smoke pot. I rest my case). I am however impressed that NASA uses the software. I’ll be using it to supplement the two hours daily of Arabic Writing Practice and the 4 Hours weekly lessons of Arabic Instruction that I receive. Which means that weekly (my weeks are five days long, I do not, and will not work on weekends – for any reason), I’ll be receiving 19 hours of Arabic Language Instruction at a minimum, not including study group time (which we’re still coordinating).

ASL

ASL this year will also be two hours of practice daily and three hours of instruction a week. Fortunately the class is complete submersion. The instructor is 100% deaf and we’re not allowed to talk from the moment we get into class until we leave for the day. We’re forbidden from moving our lips on the exams in case we should be helping our friends. I have two hours of ASL Practice a day plus three hours a week for 13 hours of Instruction weekly at a minimum, again, not including study group time (which I can’t coordinate, because unlike Arabic I have no idea who’s in my class next semester).

Friendly Warning for Friends (This applies to everyone, no exceptions)

I state this emphatically and beg for your patience over the next 530 some odd days. While not a hard and fast rule, this will certainly be true overall – unless I manage to become a better scheduling wizard than I already am, and manage, somehow, to find free time during the week (again, M-F).

During this next academic year, I will be unable to be ‘reached’ so to speak Mondays through Fridays for hanging out. It’s just not going to happen so please don’t call me and bug me and put me in the position where I have to constantly say no; you already know the answer.

My schedule is such that I’ll be getting up at 8am and getting home at 10:00PM Monday through Friday and after 10 o’clock the only activity other than Hookah (I don’t put reefer in my hookah, I figure this should be mentioned for clarity since I mentioned it above) is sleep.

Friday I take the afternoon to myself and overall I won’t be making plans, I use that evening to destress from the week and to get myself in order.

The only days that I have to hang out will be the weekends since I refuse to do work on Saturday and Sunday’s (and I reserve the right to take some of those to myself as well).

Them’s the breaks until Summer Session. My apologies, I know it sucks, but it is what it is and I ask that you just bear with it. I promise it won’t suck when in six years I’m fluent and pulling in the salary that I require to support the lifestyle I’m accustomed to.

Oh I’ll mention this here too: the first person who leaves a voice mail whining “don’t you love me anymore” or “I never get to see you anymore” is getting their number banned from my cell. I hate that shit, it’s number two on a top ten list of shit that makes my blood boil. Really it shows a serious lack of respect for other people’s time constraints based on where they are in life and the requirements placed on them. People will say “well you don’t have to do that” well that’s true, but I’d like to achieve more than a menial job. Messages like that show a lack of understanding that people will go through phases in their life where they get to be stressed for awhile. I can’t imagine the shit my friends in Pharmacy get when they’re doing rounds.

While I’ll be attempting to limit stress (thank you Yoga Classes, Meditation Room, etc) next semester is it. It’s go time. I haven’t been in a club in many months and I won’t be in one next semester at all. Don’t call, I’m not going out.

I have numerous exams that I have to pass next semester; some for school, some because I’ve set them there to challenge me and anything less than flying colors is unacceptable.

In short: Deal.

Flying Back to Buffalo

I fly back to Buffalo Today, I’ll be landing at 4:25 in the Afternoon and heading straight to campus for class. I’ll see everyone soon =)

“I’m like “they rejected Matt, whose resume is 5 miles long?!” ~ Natalie

Subject: “I’m like “they rejected Matt, whose resume is 5 miles long?!” ~ Natalie

Date: Monday 7/24/06 2:24:00 AM

Tags: blog: tag me

Wow, lots going on.

First and foremost I was given a contact the other day and was told I have to email this guy

I looked up his credentials, and they’re beyond impressive (stunning doesn’t even begin to describe it). He’s gay, married for over 10 years, has three kids. He’s Fluent in 13 languages (three of which are Arabic, Hebrew and Ladino) and he works in Applied Linguistics.

The person who wants to put us in touch with each other knows my credentials (which, compared to the guy I’m supposed to email…well, let’s just say he’s the Olympic swimming pool of credentials and I’m the inflatable kiddie pool with duct tape version of credentials). Anyways, the guy who wants to put us in touch with each other told my mother to pass on the contact information and she did; so now I’m writing him an email tonight, trying to not sound like a tool (and perhaps succeeding, we’ll see) and hoping he’ll be kind enough to answer around four or five thousand questions.

Rosetta Stone: Arabic

I’m getting the Rosetta Stone Arabic software for my Birthday; I’m not so much impressed by the fact that the State Department uses it (I have almost no confidence in my Government…I have confidence in (some) of the people of my country, just…not so much in what Washington thinks is a good idea or not. Think I’m crazy? Watch Reefer Madness and realize that they produced that gem to make people NOT want to smoke pot. I rest my case). I am however impressed that NASA uses the software. I’ll be using it to supplement the two hours daily of Arabic Writing Practice and the 4 Hours weekly lessons of Arabic Instruction that I receive. Which means that weekly (my weeks are five days long, I do not, and will not work on weekends – for any reason), I’ll be receiving 19 hours of Arabic Language Instruction at a minimum, not including study group time (which we’re still coordinating).

ASL

ASL this year will also be two hours of practice daily and three hours of instruction a week. Fortunately the class is complete submersion. The instructor is 100% deaf and we’re not allowed to talk from the moment we get into class until we leave for the day. We’re forbidden from moving our lips on the exams in case we should be helping our friends. I have two hours of ASL Practice a day plus three hours a week for 13 hours of Instruction weekly at a minimum, again, not including study group time (which I can’t coordinate, because unlike Arabic I have no idea who’s in my class next semester).

Friendly Warning for Friends (This applies to everyone, no exceptions)

I state this emphatically and beg for your patience over the next 530 some odd days. While not a hard and fast rule, this will certainly be true overall – unless I manage to become a better scheduling wizard than I already am, and manage, somehow, to find free time during the week (again, M-F).

During this next academic year, I will be unable to be ‘reached’ so to speak Mondays through Fridays for hanging out. It’s just not going to happen so please don’t call me and bug me and put me in the position where I have to constantly say no; you already know the answer.

My schedule is such that I’ll be getting up at 8am and getting home at 10:00PM Monday through Friday and after 10 o’clock the only activity other than Hookah (I don’t put reefer in my hookah, I figure this should be mentioned for clarity since I mentioned it above) is sleep.

Friday I take the afternoon to myself and overall I won’t be making plans, I use that evening to destress from the week and to get myself in order.

The only days that I have to hang out will be the weekends since I refuse to do work on Saturday and Sunday’s (and I reserve the right to take some of those to myself as well).

Them’s the breaks until Summer Session. My apologies, I know it sucks, but it is what it is and I ask that you just bear with it. I promise it won’t suck when in six years I’m fluent and pulling in the salary that I require to support the lifestyle I’m accustomed to.

Oh I’ll mention this here too: the first person who leaves a voice mail whining “don’t you love me anymore” or “I never get to see you anymore” is getting their number banned from my cell. I hate that shit, it’s number two on a top ten list of shit that makes my blood boil. Really it shows a serious lack of respect for other people’s time constraints based on where they are in life and the requirements placed on them. People will say “well you don’t have to do that” well that’s true, but I’d like to achieve more than a menial job. Messages like that show a lack of understanding that people will go through phases in their life where they get to be stressed for awhile. I can’t imagine the shit my friends in Pharmacy get when they’re doing rounds.

While I’ll be attempting to limit stress (thank you Yoga Classes, Meditation Room, etc) next semester is it. It’s go time. I haven’t been in a club in many months and I won’t be in one next semester at all. Don’t call, I’m not going out.

I have numerous exams that I have to pass next semester; some for school, some because I’ve set them there to challenge me and anything less than flying colors is unacceptable.

In short: Deal.

Flying Back to Buffalo

I fly back to Buffalo Today, I’ll be landing at 4:25 in the Afternoon and heading straight to campus for class. I’ll see everyone soon =)

For Obvious Reasons, I’m on a Clerks Kick

Subject: For Obvious Reasons, I’m on a Clerks Kick

Date: Saturday 7/22/06 2:58:00 AM

And this is referencing Clerks (1994) not Clerks II (2006) so don’t bitch about spoilers…you’ve had roughly 12 years to see the first movie.

[on his past relationship with Caitlin]

Dante Hicks: She was supposed to meet Brad Michaelson in a dark bedroom. She picked the wrong one. She didn’t even know I was at the party.

Randal Graves: Oh my God.

Dante Hicks: Great story, huh?

Randal Graves: That girl was vile to you.

Dante Hicks: Interesting post script to that story – you know who wound up with Brad in that dark bedroom?

Randal Graves: Your mother?

Dante Hicks: Alan Harris.

Randal Graves: Chess team Alan Harris?

Dante Hicks: The two moved to Idaho shortly after graduation. They raise sheep.

Randal Graves: That’s frightening.

Dante Hicks: Takes different strokes to move the world.

Randal Graves: In light of this, I don’t see how you can romanticize your relationship with Caitlin. She broke your heart and inadvertently drove men to deviant lifestyles.

For Obvious Reasons, I’m on a Clerks Kick

Subject: For Obvious Reasons, I’m on a Clerks Kick

Date: Saturday 7/22/06 2:58:00 AM

And this is referencing Clerks (1994) not Clerks II (2006) so don’t bitch about spoilers…you’ve had roughly 12 years to see the first movie.

[on his past relationship with Caitlin]

Dante Hicks: She was supposed to meet Brad Michaelson in a dark bedroom. She picked the wrong one. She didn’t even know I was at the party.

Randal Graves: Oh my God.

Dante Hicks: Great story, huh?

Randal Graves: That girl was vile to you.

Dante Hicks: Interesting post script to that story – you know who wound up with Brad in that dark bedroom?

Randal Graves: Your mother?

Dante Hicks: Alan Harris.

Randal Graves: Chess team Alan Harris?

Dante Hicks: The two moved to Idaho shortly after graduation. They raise sheep.

Randal Graves: That’s frightening.

Dante Hicks: Takes different strokes to move the world.

Randal Graves: In light of this, I don’t see how you can romanticize your relationship with Caitlin. She broke your heart and inadvertently drove men to deviant lifestyles.

High Rollers

Subject: High Rollers

Date: Saturday 7/22/06 2:23:00 AM

High Rollers

Buffalo, New York

A Gay Leather Bar

Hockey Finals, 2006

An old man approached me at the bar/said to me “you gotta tell him how much you love him” as I stared at the one man I couldn’t get if I tried, and this poor old man didn’t realize that I’ve told him how much I’ve loved him more than once and was always denied. The one who got away just couldn’t understand that when I said “I love you” it wasn’t a ploy to get in his pants, he couldn’t fathom that someone would love him for what he was because he operates on a different system.

The more drinks someone buys for him, the cooler he is. The more relationships he meddles with/the more breaks ups caused by him the more powerful he thinks he is. This high speed train wreck no where near slowing down and it’s sad because it’s not often that you can actually see yourself loosing more than just a friend.

The boy just didn’t seem to understand that I meant what I said/I only say what I mean: don’t seem to leave much room for interpretation when I say “I love you more than you can ever know” but he was in his own universe playing little boy games of cops and robbers:now hookers, tramps and thieves.

I was the friend for awhile, the reliable pal, the one you call when you need a shoulder to cry on and when you need to just let loose or to come and help out when you’re sick but you see the deal just happens to be that I wait for no one. I’m no one’s option. I’m the real deal, I’m the shit so as I faded away, the more I became unavailable the more he tried to reach out:kept getting these text messages:

“I miss you”

“I love you”

“when are we going to hang”

“baby where are you?”

But I didn’t get my hopes up, I took them for what they were worth: a ten cent way of saying “pay attention to me, please think you have a chance, buy me a drink and we’ll see” but the shame of it is, I don’t play that way, that just isn’t how I roll/I wasn’t raised a fool and I know when it’s time to pack my bags and move on.

So then I started getting actual calls on my phone that I’d just send to voice mail “hey, just wondering what you’re up to…yeah, me and my last boyfriend broke up…I have a new one…he’s rich, it’s soo cool…” and I know that in another few days I’ll get another message of the same. I don’t even listen to them, I just hit lucky number 7 and send ’em the the digital waste bin.

Every now and then, I answer my phone and he wants to know where I am and who I’m with and he grills me harder than my parents did in high school when I was in the west village learning how to shoot, play poker, drink and play politics with the boys and he tries so hard, so hard to reel me back in; but I won’t let him.

So on the last night that I was ever gunna see him, I was paying for my own drinks at the bar with my own cash as he was judging his own worth by the amount of men he could play to pay for the night. The older men who were paying to touch him were like The Sirens to me, singing out their dangerous song. These men hoping so desperately, as their hearts were aching, for one last chance:one last fuck to prove their worth/that they can still get the boy, these played out Casanovas who should be a glaring warning sign for the boy that I loved because their body language/their history is screaming “you’re going to become me…you’re going to grow old…you’re going to be sitting here at this bar, less than twenty miles from your home hoping for one last shag…”

So I waived a casual goodbye as I walked out the door, picked up my cell, called my travel agent and booked a trip out of dodge because the next time he called me and I answered I needed to be able to say “boyfriend? Not at 21 my friend…you never know what people you’re going to meet…” and hang up.

As I walked to my car I shrugged, no use in holding a torch for a boy who refuses to grow. My plane boards in a few months and I’ll be touching dirt in another country…and I don’t know when I’ll book my flight back home and I know I don’t speak the language of the men who will be all around me/one I’ve never studied but I think I’ll manage to communicate.

You have to understand, in the end, I’m the one who got away…shame is, I won’t be around when he comes to realize he lost the game.

I always win.

High Rollers

Subject: High Rollers

Date: Saturday 7/22/06 2:23:00 AM

High Rollers

Buffalo, New York

A Gay Leather Bar

Hockey Finals, 2006

An old man approached me at the bar/said to me “you gotta tell him how much you love him” as I stared at the one man I couldn’t get if I tried, and this poor old man didn’t realize that I’ve told him how much I’ve loved him more than once and was always denied. The one who got away just couldn’t understand that when I said “I love you” it wasn’t a ploy to get in his pants, he couldn’t fathom that someone would love him for what he was because he operates on a different system.

The more drinks someone buys for him, the cooler he is. The more relationships he meddles with/the more breaks ups caused by him the more powerful he thinks he is. This high speed train wreck no where near slowing down and it’s sad because it’s not often that you can actually see yourself loosing more than just a friend.

The boy just didn’t seem to understand that I meant what I said/I only say what I mean: don’t seem to leave much room for interpretation when I say “I love you more than you can ever know” but he was in his own universe playing little boy games of cops and robbers:now hookers, tramps and thieves.

I was the friend for awhile, the reliable pal, the one you call when you need a shoulder to cry on and when you need to just let loose or to come and help out when you’re sick but you see the deal just happens to be that I wait for no one. I’m no one’s option. I’m the real deal, I’m the shit so as I faded away, the more I became unavailable the more he tried to reach out:kept getting these text messages:

“I miss you”

“I love you”

“when are we going to hang”

“baby where are you?”

But I didn’t get my hopes up, I took them for what they were worth: a ten cent way of saying “pay attention to me, please think you have a chance, buy me a drink and we’ll see” but the shame of it is, I don’t play that way, that just isn’t how I roll/I wasn’t raised a fool and I know when it’s time to pack my bags and move on.

So then I started getting actual calls on my phone that I’d just send to voice mail “hey, just wondering what you’re up to…yeah, me and my last boyfriend broke up…I have a new one…he’s rich, it’s soo cool…” and I know that in another few days I’ll get another message of the same. I don’t even listen to them, I just hit lucky number 7 and send ’em the the digital waste bin.

Every now and then, I answer my phone and he wants to know where I am and who I’m with and he grills me harder than my parents did in high school when I was in the west village learning how to shoot, play poker, drink and play politics with the boys and he tries so hard, so hard to reel me back in; but I won’t let him.

So on the last night that I was ever gunna see him, I was paying for my own drinks at the bar with my own cash as he was judging his own worth by the amount of men he could play to pay for the night. The older men who were paying to touch him were like The Sirens to me, singing out their dangerous song. These men hoping so desperately, as their hearts were aching, for one last chance:one last fuck to prove their worth/that they can still get the boy, these played out Casanovas who should be a glaring warning sign for the boy that I loved because their body language/their history is screaming “you’re going to become me…you’re going to grow old…you’re going to be sitting here at this bar, less than twenty miles from your home hoping for one last shag…”

So I waived a casual goodbye as I walked out the door, picked up my cell, called my travel agent and booked a trip out of dodge because the next time he called me and I answered I needed to be able to say “boyfriend? Not at 21 my friend…you never know what people you’re going to meet…” and hang up.

As I walked to my car I shrugged, no use in holding a torch for a boy who refuses to grow. My plane boards in a few months and I’ll be touching dirt in another country…and I don’t know when I’ll book my flight back home and I know I don’t speak the language of the men who will be all around me/one I’ve never studied but I think I’ll manage to communicate.

You have to understand, in the end, I’m the one who got away…shame is, I won’t be around when he comes to realize he lost the game.

I always win.