D.Levine Industries

Mawwiage, that Bwessed Awwangement, that Dweam Wifin a Dweam

2006-09-06T12:39:00.000-05:00

I hate weddings.

Theoretically, I mean. I don't even remember the last time I actually went to a wedding, but I'm sure it was over a decade ago. I've had the opportunity to attend two weddings in the past year, that I can remember, though I don't think I was officially invited to either. That's part of the reason I didn't attend; I was not distinguished from my parents for the sake of invitations. The primary reason I refused both opportunities, however, is that when I try to imagine myself at a wedding, I find it impossible to imagine enjoying myself.

Okay, so, apparently, I'm a selfish bastard. I can't just be happy for two people who are happy with each other. Instead, I take every marriage as a personal insult. "Hey, loser! Look at us; we're so good at relationships we're getting married! How successful was your last relationship? Oh, that's right, you haven't had any! Loser!"

Of course, that's a pretty preposterous way to view the whole institution, but it's enough to keep me home. Besides, what if I did go to a wedding? I'd spend the whole time either moping in a corner, or trying to hide my seething resentment. I can think of any number of ways I'd rather spend my time. Writing this blog, for instance. Or plucking my nose hairs.

Now, I can think of exceptions. I would certainly attend the wedding of a good friend--any of the four or so people who read this blog regularly, for example. I'd still probably have a miserable time, but I could at least be genuinely happy for the couple. The problem here, though--and I mean no offense, guys--but let's face it; that's not terribly likely to happen any time soon.

Besides all that, how can anyone be expected to take a wedding seriously anymore, anyway? I'm pretty sure the divorce rate went over %50 a few years ago. Knowing that most marriages are doomed, how am I supposed to believe that, as happy as these two are with each other now, they won't be at each others' throats in 5 years? It's just laughable.

Okay, so, what have we learned?

1) Forget you, weddings.

2) I'm a selfish bastard.

3) Quit getting married, you idiots! You're just going to get divorced.

All right, I'm done. For now.

Disconnect

2006-08-10T09:48:00.000-05:00

Hey, look at that; a new blog post.

I just moved into my new apartment last week. I'm getting phone and internet service through Qwest, so, of course, I just got the phone lines working last night, and I won't have internet access until next Monday. So, don't expect to see me on AIM before then. In the mean time, I thought I'd write this up to let everyone know I'm still alive and well. Also, work is incredibly boring this morning.

As for my new apartment, things are pretty good. I got a place with no one above me, a garage below me, and no shared walls, so I can play DDR at 3:00 in the morning and hopefully not disturb anyone. Which is nice, because I picked up DDR Extreme 2 over the weekend, along with a 2nd Ignition 3.0 dance pad. Now I can try Double mode!

I also bought about $1500 worth of new furniture, including a reclining loveseat that is almost more comfortable to sleep on than my bed. So that's nice. I also have a fireplace with a mantle which is perfect for setting up all the little toys Justin brought me from Japan.

I think that's it for now. Check y'all later.

I am Returned. Actually, I Returned Like a Week Ago.

2006-06-04T02:30:00.000-05:00

So, last weekend I visited my good friend Chris K. in San Jose, California. We had a great time. Also, I took many pictures.

I'm not going to write up a long post about the trip; most of what I have to say about it has been done so in the captions of the pictures. There are a couple of things about the trip that aren't addressed in the photos, though.

Firstly, we saw X-Men 3 on Friday night. It was pretty good, but it seemed a bit more focused on action than character development. Also, if you do go see it, make sure to stay through the credits.

Also, Chris has been looking for a good church to go to in the Bay Area. While we were at the In-N-Out restaurant, however, he pointed out the "secret messages" printed on the cups and burger packets. This got me to thinking, instead of church, he should just go to the In-N-Out every Sunday. Something to think about, anyway.

What else? Oh, yes, the weather. It seems odd to me that I should spend a weekend in California and have to wear a jacket the whole time, then return to Minnesota and be sweltering. Just doesn't seem right, but I'm not complaining.

Finally, Chris got to see what I think of as an ideally attractive woman while we were at the diner he frequents. I should have taken a picture. Damn. Maybe next time.

So, what did we learn from this trip?

1) Chris is no good for staying up late anymore.

2) X-Men 3 is okay, but make sure to stay after the credits.

3) Fast food = better than church.

4) If you're going to climb the Twin Peaks in San Francisco, make sure to do it on a clear day.

5) Seals are brown, lazy, and smelly.

Okay, that's it for now. Be sure to check out the photos! And pick your favorite pics and comments. Seacrest out!

Bizarre Dreams... or PROPHETIC VISIONS?! You be the Judge!

2006-05-23T09:51:00.000-05:00

The other night I had a couple of particularly interesting dreams, and I feel like recording my memories of them. So, that's what I'm going to do. Much of this, of course, won't make much sense; thus is the nature of dreams. Still, you might find it interesting.

I don't remember how the first dream began, but at some point I suddenly found myself on a "jet ski" of some sort being dropped in the middle of the ocean. This jet ski looked like an upturned picnic table, with two wooden planks sticking up at the front; I guess they were the controls. I had with me a small packet of papers I was meant to deliver somewhere. Also aboard the jet ski picnic table were a girl who may have been my sister, and her dad (but somehow not my dad.) While I was trying to prevent my packet of papers from being blown into the ocean, suddenly the girl's dad fell off the jet ski, and instead of being in the middle of the ocean, we were now on some sort of small, murky pond outside of some sort of crypt or ruins. I tried to turn the jet ski table around to look for the girl's dad, but it was dark now, and I had to use some sort of search light to see into the water. Wherever I shone the light, the water was perfectly clear, and I noticed some old, rotten bones at the bottom of the pond. I shone the light in a different spot and saw another skeleton. I looked elsewhere, but wherever I looked, I found human skeletons. I soon realized that this whole pond was completely full of gruesome skeletons. At that point, I decided it was time to stop looking for the girl's father and just get the hell out of there. I pulled the jet ski table up to the entrance of the nearby crypt and went inside. We weren't in there long before we were attacked by some ghosts. I tried to fend the ghosts off with the force of my will, but after several failed attempts, I was forced to realize I don't actually have any psychic powers. So I fled from the ghosts and found a flight of stairs that led up into a temple. One of the ghosts followed me up the stairs, and I knocked a statue over to try and stop it; of course, the statue just fell straight through the ghost, but fortunately there was some sort of priestess nearby who was able to trap the ghost in the statue, and we were safe. I looked at the priestess for a bit, expecting her to say something, maybe ask who I was or what I was doing there, but she just looked at me like I was supposed to know what to say. Instead I just patted her on the shoulder, sort of a "nice job getting rid of that ghost" gesture. She seemed to lose interest then and wandered off. That's about when I woke up.

My memories of the next dream aren't quite so clear, but I feel like writing them anyway. Again, the details of where it began are lost to me, but I remember wandering around some sort of countryside, climbing hills and jumping around on old castle walls, avoiding monsters that were wandering around. Eventually I found myself in the substructure of this nearby castle, being chased by some sort of dinosaur. As always, I couldn't run fast enough to get away, so I tried to dodge around corners to evade it. This didn't do any good, because the walls were made of loose boards that the dinosaur easily smashed through. What happened next is kind of fuzzy; I'm not sure if I was the one who did it, or if someone else showed up and I took over their point of view, but whoever it was grabbed the dinosaur by the neck and threw it all around, smashing it through the walls and knocking it out.

I think about then I woke up in my bed and realized the power must have gone out; both the clock and my watch were flashing weird symbols, indicating they needed to be reset. I needed to turn on a light to reset them, but when I tried turning on the lamp next to my bed the bulb blew out. For some reason I was reluctant to actually get out of bed, but I had to in order to turn on the overhead lights, so I did. The switch on the wall didn't do anything, so I realized I had to use the pull chains on the light instead. The first chain I tried only turned on the fan, and when I tried the second chain, it only turned on one of the four lights at a time, which didn't provide enough light to reset my watch. I think it was about then that I actually woke up.

The last bit of that second dream reminds me of that movie Justin and I saw when we were at Chris' place in Kansas City. "The Waking Life," or something like that? I forget. Anyway, I just remember they talked about how you can't read things or affect lighting in dreams.

Also, I know that a lot of the imagery in these dreams was clearly inspired by Oblivion; the crypt and temple in the first dream looked just like locations in that game, and the priestess was clearly based on a dark elf; the countryside in the second dream also reminded me of some of the outdoor locations in Oblivion.

Anyway, that's my dream journal for today. Hopefully nothing like this will happen again for a while.

Until next time, may your jet ski/picnic table never break down, and may you always beat the crap out of any dinosaurs that try to eat you.

Candymancy

2006-04-20T22:34:00.000-05:00

After looking over everyone's answers to the question I posed in the previous post, I think we can safely draw the following conclusions:

1) Chris K. has already given up on finding romance.

2) Justin equates paradise with survival.

3) Andrew thinks of women as entertaining bodyguards.

4) Chris MM is a hopeless romantic.

Now, perhaps, you're wondering where I stand on the issue. First, I think a little background is in order.

To make any sense of any answer I might give for this question, I think it's important to go over what brought me to consider the question in the first place. As you may have deduced if you've been keeping up with this blog, I can be a pretty miserable person when the mood strikes me. Since I seem to be struck by the mood rather often, I decided a little while ago to take stock of my life and see if I could figure out the source of this misery.

So here's what I came up with:

Pros:
- Close, loving family
- A few good friends I connect with on multiple levels
- Safe, comfortable home
- Decent job which pays well enough to cover all my expenses, plus a little bit
- Reliable, available entertainment

Cons:
- No female companionship

When I step back and think about it, it's true that I'm at my most miserable when that final point has been weighing on my mind. So, apparently, my unhappiness can be entirely traced back to this one matter. Considering this, I had to ask myself, how is it that, as good as my life is overall, I could get so hung up on the one thing that's missing from it that I don't consider myself a happy person in general?

So I came up with this question. Would you trade any shot at romance for guaranteed comfort? It's a question for other people, really; I'm already living in that situation. The real question I'm asking, then, is: Am I justified in my misery?

My guess--or perhaps simply what I'd like to imagine--is that most people would not give up romance for comfort. This would indicate that perhaps the reason I'm so dissatisfied with my life is that the one thing I lack is the one thing most people wouldn't give up for the world. I don't know, of course, if that's true, but, in a small way, it's comforting to think that it might be.

But, anyway, to answer the question itself, I'm going to have to turn it around. The question then is this: Would I give up the comforts of my life for a shot at romance?

In all honesty, I believe I would. But I'm not entirely convinced that I wouldn't regret it.

So what have we learned today:

1) David is unjustifiably miserable.

2) ... OR IS HE?!?

Or, hell, maybe we didn't really learn anything this time around. But at least we tried, and that's what counts... OR IS IT?!?

Okay, that's enough for now. Until next time, you know what to do.

I Agree with You, in Theory. IN THEORY, Communism Works. IN THEORY.

2006-04-18T16:49:00.000-05:00

Today, for you, a hypothetical proposition.

Suppose for a moment that I had the power to offer you perfect comfort, absolutely guaranteed, for the rest of your life. You would never need to worry about food, shelter, security, or entertainment for as long as you live. No tricks, no caveats, just one stipulation.

In order to take advantage of this offer, you have to give up any possibility of ever having any sort of romantic relationship.

Would you accept the offer?

Feel free to post your answer in the comments.

And the Winner is...

2006-03-13T23:58:00.000-06:00

Now it's time for:

David's Supercolossal Fantastic Answer Key!

Answer #1:
Here on Earth there'd be no life without the light it gives.
Score:
+20 pts. to Andrew and Chris K. for at least getting the right song.

Answer #2:
Door hinge.
Score:
No score this round; none of the contestants were able to successfully rhyme the word "orange."

Answer #3:
Alfred the Great, obviously.
Score:
+10 pts. to Andrew, Justin, and Chris K. for actually mentioning English monarchs.
-10 pts. to David for naming an American.

Answer #4:
Gummi.
Score:
+5 pts. to Justin and Chris K. for answering more-or-less accurately.
-5 pts. to David for lying.

Answer #5:
Must... eat... gummi...
Score:
+10 pts. to Chris K. and David for describing actual moods.
+500 pts. to David for eating way too much gummi that one time.

FINAL SCORE!!!
Andrew: 30
Justin: 15
Chris K.: 45
Chris M-M.: 0
David: 495

So! Tonight's Grand Booby Prize goes to... Chris M-M. for his phenomenal score of zero! Congratulations, Chris, you win a brand new carbon atom.

Tonight's Grand Booby Prize is sponsored by Carbon. Carbon: you can't go wrong with four valence electrons.

And now for the Grand Actual Prize Coronation Ceremony!

David wins!

So what have we learned today?

1) Andrew has that TMBG song stuck in his head.

2) What is up with Chris M-M.'s obesession with oranges?

3) Chris K. has aspirations for the British throne.

4) Justin is a man's man, no doubt.

5) David has seen too many shows with therapists in them lately.

Thanks for playing, better luck next time!

Welcome to the Show!

2006-03-13T19:50:00.000-06:00

It's time for:

David's Supercolossal Fantastic Survey Quiz Show Game Hooray!

The rules are simple. You'll be presented with a series of five questions, suggested by the audience. All you have to do is post your responses to the questions in the comments. It's that easy!

Okay, here we go!

Question #1:
Why does the Sun shine?

Question #2:
What is the difference between an orange?

Question #3:
Who was the greatest English monarch?

Question #4:
What is your sex?

Question #5:
How does that make you feel?

Good luck, everyone! The answer key will be posted... eventually!

Until then, enjoy the show!

The Next Level

2006-03-05T18:23:00.000-06:00

Okay, anyone who hasn't seen the demo video for Spore yet needs to do so now.

If this game turns out to be even half as good as it looks in this preview, I think it will easily knock Civ out of my Top 5 video games list.

Today's lessons:

1) Spore looks freakin' awesome.

2) Will Wright should perhaps consider taking a public speaking course.

That's it for now!

Viva la revoluccion!

2006-02-11T22:02:00.000-06:00

So, I'm starting to see some results from by weight lifting already; I can actually feel the muscles in my arms now. However, I realized weights alone probably won't be enough to get me into the shape I'd like to be in. So I've decided to add some aerobic exercise to my regimen. The problem, however, is that most exercise machines are simply boring, and activities like walking an jogging are only feasible for about three months out of the year in Minnesota. So, I realized the best method would be to combine my need for exercise with my love of video games. That's right, I finally went out and (with the help of Chris M-M) purchased Dance Dance Revolution! Or, more specifically, "Dance Dance Revolution Extreme" (just in case I ever buy an EyeToy.)

Of course we spent some time this evening breaking it in, and since Chris brought a pad along, we were able to play head-to-head. He claimed to be horribly out of practice, but he still managed to score quite a few A's. It was a good time, nevertheless. Not to mention that it worked up quite a sweat, as well.

While I'm on the subject of DDR, I came up with an idea for a game a while ago. Like Dance Dance Revolution, you would move your body in time with music, but instead of simply stepping on pads on the floor, in "Karate Revolution" you'd have to strike pads worn by the other player. When a pad lights up, you hit it, while at the same time trying to make sure your opponent doesn't strike any of your pads. I imagine one pad on each shoulder, one on each hip, and maybe one on the chest. The game would also come with a dummy you could strap the pads to for single-player games.

That's all I have to report for now. Lesson time!

1) DDR is fun.

2) Kicking people is fun.

3) Video games do not inspire violence

yet.

Now eat your dinner and go to bed.

Progress Report

2006-02-06T19:49:00.000-06:00

Well, I've only been lifting weights for a week now, but already I'm less worn out at the end of my regimen than I was a week ago, even though I'm doing more sets. I don't look or feel any less... soft, yet, but I'm sure that will come in time.

So here's what we learn:

1) Exercise does a body good.

2) Soon. Very soon.

Courage.

It's Just Like Reality TV, Only Without the TV!

2006-02-01T17:44:00.000-06:00

For the past two-and-a-half weeks, I've been inspecting substrates at work. For those of you who don't know, this is a tedious and often physically taxing job, requiring me to spend much of my day hunched over a comparator or microscope performing the same inspection over dozens and dozens of tiny pieces of graphite. Also, it's not my job. Unfortunately, however, Dawn had to have surgery, so I have to fill in for her until she recovers.

The best part about inspecting substrates is that, since it involves no mental commitment on my part whatsoever, it leaves my mind free to wander wherever it will. Since my mind seems to be inextricably preoccupied with this woman, I typically come home from work full of self-loathing and despair.

So I decided it was finally time to make some kind of change in my life. Yes, I decided to join a health club. I figure getting in shape could only make me feel better, and might even provide me with the confidence to actually pursue feminine attentions (it's a long shot, I know, but we'll see what happens.) So last Friday I put on my new track pants, hopped in my car, and headed to the Life Time Fitness down the road. I circled the parking lot once to try and determine the best place to enter the facility, finally deciding on the big glass area in the middle of the building. Unfortunately, however, all I could see through the windows were treadmills. Not that I have anything in particular against treadmills, but I was specifically looking for some sort of help desk or information center; there was no such thing to be seen. Not quite sure what to do, I tried opening the nearest door, hoping there might be some indication within as to where a first-time visitor should go. The door, however, did not open. At that point, I noticed someone else enter through a different door, so I walked in that direction, only to find two asinine-looking jock types standing on the other side. They didn't look like they would have barred me from entering the building, but I found their mere presence rather offputting. So, I kept walking, back to my car. I went home to change pants, then went out for a French Dip sandwich. The sandwich was probably the best part of the entire day.

So, my health club plan failed, but the next day I set out with renewed vigor... to my parents' house. I bought lunch, then we went to see "The Matador." Also, it turns out they had a set of weights lying around that no one was using, so they let me take them home with me. They also had a 10-year-old booklet with a workout routine, so I took that, too. Now I can get in shape in the comfort of my own apartment without any monthly dues or obnoxious jock-types watching and laughing at me. Fricken' jocks. I'll show them.

It's going well so far. I've only done the routine twice, but I'm pretty sure I'll be able to keep it up on an every-other-day basis. I'm still a bit stiff and sore from the workout last night, but in a way that makes me feel good about myself. And frankly, the physical stiffness is much preferable to the mental numbness I'd been living with. So wish me luck, and hopefully the next time you see me I'll be able to open that pickle jar with no problems.

Until then, just use a chainsaw.

There is No Place Called Chicago; Chicago is a State of Mind

2006-01-14T15:45:00.000-06:00

So, last night I got back from my trip to Chicago, which was surprisingly enjoyable. So I've decided to write this post to elucidate the details.

It all began Tuesday evening, when I flew out to Chicago. I got to the airport in plenty of time, and there weren't any hangups there, though I will say I'm glad I started wearing a pair of slip-on shoes not too long ago. I'm sure anyone who's been through airport security lately will understand why.

So getting onto my flight was no problem, though the flight itself was probably the most turbulent I've been on yet. The flight attendants weren't able to serve drinks to everyone on the plane, but they got to my row before they had to sit down. I poured myself a glass of 7Up just in time for a huge jostle to knock the rest of my soda can onto the floor next to my seat. Hooray. So the bottom of my shoes are still sticky. Fortunately, the guy in the middle seat had moved elsewhere at the beginning of the flight, so no one else got soaked. The rest of the flight reminded me of some amusement park rides I've been on. We made it to Chicago safely, however, so I hopped into a shuttle to the hotel.

I'm still not sure which was more harrowing, the flight in, or the shuttle ride to the hotel.

But, nevertheless, we made it to the hotel safely and I checked in with no trouble. The room was a little smaller than others I've stayed in, but maybe that's just because it was in the middle of downtown Chicago, whereas every other hotel I've stayed at was located in a more suburban environment. Also, it seemed like every damn thing in the room had a price tag on it, and a ridiculously expensive one, at that. But I didn't steal any linens or make use of the minibar, so I guess it was okay.

There wasn't much else for me to do, plus I was pretty tired from working and travelling all day, so I just went to bed relatively early Tuesday night so's I could get up in time for class. Which I did. They also served breakfast for the people attending the seminar, but all they had were some muffins, bagels, cereal and fruit. I was expecting some pastries or something, but I guess I shouldn't complain since I wasn't ultimately paying for any of it anyway.

After breakfast, the SPC class I signed up for started. It was all right, but I won't bore you with the details. There were 12 people in the class, and during the breaks and whatnot I managed to converse at least a little bit with all of them at some point. Early on, however, I established the best rapport with Ignacio and Milissa, from New Mexico. During the lunch break, some of the folks some of the people who lived around Chicago recommended a few places to eat, and I managed to finangle my way into the group heading to Giordano's later in the evening. The group included the pair from New Mexico, Katherine from Florida, myself, and Jason, Milissa's boyfriend (damn! No hitting on anyone tonight...)

So we all went out and had some good old Chicago-style pizza and fine conversation, which was a great time overall. After dinner, I went with Ignacio to see "Syriana," but apparently the theatre wasn't showing it, so we saw "Hostel" instead. I didn't want to see it, but he didn't want to see "King Kong," so I had to make a concession.

If you want to know what I thought of "Hostel," I'll say this; if you're in the mood to see plenty of drugs, sex, and violence, then I'd highly recommend it. If, on the other hand, you'd prefer to watch something with any artistic value, I'd recommend you look elsewhere. But what do you expect from Quentin Tarrantino? (The correct answer is: drugs, sex, and violence.)

So that was Wednesday night. On Thursday night I went out again with the same group, less Katherine, who had some previous engagement. The remaining four of us, however, caught a cab and headed to the Second City theatre where we saw "Iraqtile Dysfunction." Again, it was a great time, and I picked up the tab as a friendly gesture (also since Ignacio paid for my ticket.) Then we all went back to our respective hotels and rested up for the last half-day of class.

Class got out early on Friday, so I got to the airport at about 12:00 for a 3:00 flight. Also, security had to scan my bag twice, then searched it briefly, I think because I had my keys in there, but I'm not really sure. And then the flight was delayed for about 45 minutes. So I spent a lot of time in the airport waiting. But I made it home safely, and now here I am.

So what have we learned?

1) David's back from Chicago.

2) Business trips are actually pretty cool.

3) Forget SPC, deep-dish pizza is the real reason to go to Chicago.

It's been a while, but now I can finally sleep under my own warm sandwiches and cool sheets.

On the Ramifications of Existentialist Philosophy Toward the Current Theological Paradigm

2006-01-09T17:35:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow evening, I shall depart for the mystical land of Chicago, where I shall undergo training in the ancient arts of Implementing Statistical Process Control. What this means for YOU is that I will be out of touch until I return from the trip Friday evening.

If anything interesting happens on the trip, I'll be sure to write a post on it. But frankly, I wouldn't hold my breath.

Tonight's post was brought to you by the following lessons:

1) David will be incommunicado for the next several days.

2) Business trips are dull.

3) Only a truly open mind may unlock the secrets of Implementing Statistical Process Control, but only a truly focused mind may master them.

Screw sandwiches and sheets; tonight I want a fat burrito and a thick, warm blanket.

My Proposal to the International Community

2006-01-09T04:11:00.000-06:00

I'm tired.

What we've learned:

1) Sleeping should DEFINITELY be an Olympic sport.

Sheets and sandwiches.

Warning: Failure to Vent Radioactive Gas May Result in Reactor Core Meltdown

2006-01-05T17:21:00.000-06:00

"I just wanted to take this opportunity to try to explain things a little bit. I know it may seem like I've been avoiding you recently, and I'm sorry for that, but it's only because, well, because I have been avoiding you.

"It's not because I don't like you--quite the opposite, in fact. You're incredibly friendly and pleasant to be around. You're also undeniably attractive. Of course, the knowledge that you're married has always been sufficient to keep me from doing anything... untoward.

"But when I heard about the... troubles between you and your husband, I don't know. Something... dark, within my mind, surfaced. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I couldn't help but see this misfortune as a potential opportunity for myself. The fact remains that you're still married, so I could only think of one thing to do in order to keep from embarrassing myself and throwing another awkward situation on top of what I'm sure is an increasingly frustrating time for you. And that thing is to simply stay away from you as much as possible.

"I know I've been selfish, and I'm sorry if I've been rude, but I can't get you out of my mind lately, and I feel like I'm barely hanging on to what sanity I have left. I'm afraid that if I had to see you any more often, I'd lose that grip completely.

"That's all I have to say."

Okay, that's it for tonight. I think you'll just have to come up with your own lessons from this post, because I sure as hell don't know what to make of it.

Now go eat your sheets.

I Need a Haircut. Also, a New Eye

2006-01-03T17:46:00.000-06:00

Okay, okay, I'm posting, geeze.

I don't have much to say tonight, I don't think, but I've got something to say,
which is more than I've had for the past week or two, so I might as well get it down now.

To set the mood, I'd just like to inform you that I just got back from my first day at work in almost two weeks, I had basically no sleep last night, and I had my pupils dilated this morning. So I may end up spouting random crap here and there. Please bear with me.

Spoon.

See? Like that, that's what I'm talking about.

Moving on. A little while ago I was chatting on AIM with my good friend Andrew and we were discussing the qualities that make a woman desirable. He suggested I write up a post on what what I think would be the ideal balance between appearance, personality, and brains. I liked the idea, but after thinking about it for a while, I realized that's not really the way I think about women. What I'm looking for is a woman who is attractive, personable, and available. So I'll address these three aspects instead.

So, firstly, I'm looking for an attractive woman. This may sound shallow, but I think it's essential for an honest, fulfilling romantic relationship. I don't think it would be fair to either of us otherwise; I'd be disappointed at having less than I desire, and she'd resent the fact that she's not getting my full affection. The flip side of this coin, of course, is that I'd also expect any woman I'd have a relationship with to find me attractive, as well. Furthermore, I'd like to state for the record that I have seen attractive women of every shape, size, and color, so I'm not talking about some idealized magazine model of beauty, here. Sure, it'd be great to go out with a woman as attractive as, say, Catherine Zeta-Jones, but it's not a requirement. Just someone who's pleasant to look at.

Of course, a woman might be the most pleasant thing in the world to look at, but if she's also not pleasant to be around and talk with, then there's no chance of a relationship. But as with appearance, there's not really any particular personality I'm looking for, just someone who is mostly friendly, easy to converse with, and is willing to accept and reciprocate my affection. I think Andrew's "brains" attribute would factor in as a part of this--it would probably be difficult to sustain a conversation with woman who can't count to ten--but I don't necessarily agree that it's essential. It doesn't really matter to me if she just earned her GED or has Ph.D's in both quantum physics and geopolitical science, as long as she's friendly and pleasant to be around, and feels the same about me. Although, a woman who has all three of those degrees would probably be a very interesting date, to say the least.

Now, to be certain, I've met many women in my time that are both attractive and personable. In fact, if you've been keeping up with this blog, you've already read about several of them. The major sticking point for me has always been the issue of availability. Every pretty, friendly woman I've ever known long enough to consider asking out has always turned out to already have a boyfriend or husband or whatever. And I don't like the idea of "stealing" someone away from someone else, not just because of the implication of people as property, but assuming I were even capable of it, I wouldn't be able to trust her not to dump me as soon as the next best thing came along. So that's that.

Okay, I'm tired of writing now, so let's wrap this up.

Today's lessons:

1) Looks count for something.

2) Looks aren't everything.

3) I will die alone. Oh well.

Okay, I'm done. Lukewarm sheetwiches and whatnot.

The Key to My Heart

2005-12-19T18:08:00.000-06:00

So far, I've spent this blog relating stuff that basically makes me feel crappy. Today, I'm going to mix it up a little and talk about something that makes me feel good. This post shall be about my favorite pastime, my one true passion, and--in my opinion--the most powerful expressive medium humanity has yet devised.

I speak, of course, of Video Games.

Despite Andrew's misgivings, I have decided to use the tried-and-true format of a Top 5 List, counting down from #5. So here we have:

David's All Time Top Five Video Game Picks

5) Castlevania: Symphony of the Night.
SotN is simply an excellent game. It represents the pinnacle of both the "side-scroller" genre and the Castlevania series. It smoothly mixes the intense combat of an action game with the strategic character development of a role-playing game while presenting a multitude of unique opponents and resources that can be pitted against each other in infinitely entertaining ways. The game does have its flaws, but these are mostly cosmetic. The story is fairly standard, despite an interesting twist and multiple endings, but the dialogue and especially the voice acting are simply atrocious. Fortunately, the plot scenes in the game are few and far between, and once you've beaten the game, you never have to sit through them again. Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow could be considered a better game in this regard, since it actually has an excellent story, but because of the more limited graphics engine and the fact that AoS's gameplay was heavily modeled after SotN, I ultimately consider the latter game the better.

4) Half-Life
Just as C:SotN represents the pinnacle of the side-scroller genre, Half-Life represents the pinnacle of the first-person-shooter genre. It was the first of its kind to feature a plot which could be considered more than "cursory" and it was the first of its kind to feature character interactions more complex than "kill every monster you see." There were, for example, people who would help you out, as well as computer opponents who fought against each other. Few FPS games have produced more satisfying encounters than witnessing a contingent of marines bust into a warehouse crawling with aliens, followed by a firefight which you may simply watch play out. Furthermore, Half-Life had perhaps the finest selection of weapons in a FPS, and this is a virtue that cannot be underestimated in this type of game. Every weapon in the game was useful in some way (except for the stupid beetles) as every weapon had its distinct advantages and disadvantages. Now I'll admit the possibility that better FPS games have been made since the original Half-Life, but if so they were only made in emulation of Half-Life. And there certainly were no better FPS games made before Half-Life.

3) Civilization
I want to stipulate right off the bat that this rank goes to the Civilization series itself, rather than any particular game in the series. This is because I consider each game to be an improved version of the same concept. While Civilization II certainly improved upon its predecessor in many ways, I don't feel that this in any way diminishes the greatness of the original. Likewise, the improvements of Civ4 do not make Civ2 any less of a great game (I didn't play enough of Civ3 to make any judgments of it.) What makes Civilization so great is that it takes a relatively simple idea--you are the ruler of your own nation--and combines it with such a refined execution to provide an open-ended experience within a manageable framework. In other words, there are just a few definitive goals, but an infinite variety of ways to achieve them. Plus you can take over the entire world. You just can't beat that.

2) Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas
San Andreas is great for much the same reason that Civilization is great; it provides an open-ended experience within a manageable framework. What makes San Andreas surpass Civilization, however, is the inclusion of a compelling storyline and more spectacular gameplay. I mean, sure, it's one kind of epic to send an army of tanks to attack infantry defending a city, but it's a considerably more intense experience to actually be the guy those tanks are coming after. Plus, in Civilization, you can't steal a jumbo jet, compete in a triathlon, or clear a traffic jam with a minigun; in San Andreas, you can.

1) Final Fantasy Tactics
Final Fantasy Tactics is simply my favorite game of all time, for two reasons. Firstly, the game features a depth and variety of play that I have not seen matched in any game before or since. Secondly, the game features a powerful, epic story that I have not seen matched in ANY medium. Additionally, Ramza Beoulve is the only video game hero I know of with the strength of character to walk into a seedy tavern and order a glass of milk. For that, man, I salute you. Now, granted, the game has its flaws: there's no way to avoid or flee random battles, combat is often drawn-out and frustrating, and much of the dialogue is poorly translated. But the game's virtues far outweigh its flaws. If you have never played through this game, then I daresay you lack the commitment to call yourself a true video game fan.

So that's it, there are my Top 5 Video Game Picks. These are my personal favorites; I don't expect anyone else's list to match mine, but still I think there are a few general conclusions we can draw from this list:

1) Video games based on sports are stupid.

2) Miniguns rule.

3) If you don't like FFT then you don't like video games.

That's it for me. Feel free to post your own Top 5 in the comments (or your "top-tier" list, if that's more your thing. Andrew.) Next time will be more depressing stuff, I promise. Until then, warm sandwiches and cool sheets.

Dr. N and the Women, Episode IV

2005-12-15T17:35:00.000-06:00

Well, I've kept everyone waiting nearly a week now, but finally it's time to continue revealing to the entire world the forbidden secrets of my love life, or lack thereof.

There is, of course, a reason I've been putting off this post. I had to wait until the time was right for this. I couldn't do it during the week; I've been feeling bad enough lately, and I needed to get at least some sleep for work. I have tomorrow off, however, so if I stay awake all night tonight pondering over events I cannot change, no one will notice in the morning.

The reason I needed to wait for the right time to write this post is that this episode is "the Big One." This is the one that counts for anything and everything. This is the tale of the woman who broke me.

Tonight
I shall tell you
of Kristen.

[insert ominous thunderclap]

As I'm sure it was for many people, my freshman year of college represents some of the best and some of the very worst times of my life. For me, both sides of that coin as well as the dichotomy itself can be traced back to two young women. Their names were Becky and Kristen. They were roommates. When I moved into the dorm, they lived in a room right down the hall.

The first time I saw Kristen was from some distance in the hallway of the dorm. This was a couple days before classes began, so there was a lot of activity with people moving in and whatnot. Still, she caught my attention through the bustle, even if briefly, and struck me as a quite attractive specimen. This wasn't a momentous occasion, just a sort of "Wow, she's pretty. Well, moving on," sort of moment. I certainly would not have guessed at the time where things would end up from there.

Shortly thereafter--it may even have been the very same night--there was a community meeting for the section of the dorm I was living in, and lo and behold, there she was again. The meeting started by having everyone introduce themselves, and when it was Becky and Kristen's turn, they announced that they had cookies and offered a general invitation for people to come by and have some. After the meeting, my roommate told me he was going to go get some cookies from those girls and asked if I intended to come along. Well, it was my first time out in the wider world on my own, so I figured I might as well give it a shot.

I guess somebody made an impression on someone then, because the four of us wound up spending a fair bit of time together after that. This is where a lot of those "best times" I mentioned earlier came from. We went bowling once, caught a double feature of "Swingers" and "Fight Club" another time, got dinner at the dining hall pretty often, and just kinda hung out. They even took me to the only dance I've ever attended.

But despite the generally good times, they were tainted by the ever-present pain of being so close to such an attractive woman and not being able to let her know how I felt. I couldn't make a move right away because she was still attached to her boyfriend from high school, and as I've mentioned previously, I'm very proprietary when it comes to relationships. Of course that didn't last much longer, but I could never seem to catch her when she wasn't involved with someone. I'd end up not getting together with her or Becky for a week or two, and in that time apparently she'd break up with the last boyfriend I knew about and begin dating someone else already. The worst was the time when I came by their room and Kristen told me all about how she had decided to get back together with her high school boyfriend. She showed me this framed... picture... thing she'd made or something with both their names and some flowery prose printed on a background of fluffy clouds. I smiled, and nodded, and then went out into the hall... and somehow managed to avoid crying or screaming or punching a hole in the wall with my skull. A true miracle.

I suppose if I'd had any balls, I'd have taken that opportunity to say "Hey, you don't need him, I'm right here!" or something along those lines. Well, hindsight is 20/20, I guess.

There was another time when I stopped by their room to... well, unload, I guess. I'd just found out that someone I knew in high school had died in a fire, and I guess it was weighing on my mind. Becky wasn't there, but I wound up having a nice long conversation with Kristen. She wound up telling me about how she couldn't run any more because of her shin splints, and showed me her calves to illustrate. She said I could go ahead and feel her shins, but I guess I poked her too hard in the wrong spot. Hmm... she let me touch her and I wound up hurting her. I'm sure that's significant somehow, but I'm too lazy to figure out the symbolism now. That will be your homework assignment for the week.

And then there was the dance I mentioned earlier. That was an unforgettable night, no matter how hard I try. I spent most of the time sitting at a table, not because no one would dance with me so much as because the DJ played mostly obnoxious rap or disco music. Becky managed to drag me out onto the floor for a couple of songs that were at least tolerable. This included the song "Smooth," which they requested after I told them I would be willing to dance to that, and "Crash Into Me" by the Dave Matthews Band, which, despite its soft, quiet tone, is a filthy, filthy song if you ever listen to the lyrics. I didn't get to dance with Kristen, though she certainly made a valiant effort to get me on the floor at one point. This is what she did: as she went toward the dance floor, she walked behind the chair I was sitting in and put her hand on my waist, dragging her arm across my back as she moved past. She didn't exert any force, but she nearly ripped me right out of my seat. If only the music hadn't been SO terrible. I guess, ultimately, it's my own damn fault I didn't get to dance with her that night, but I was still bitter about it. To this day have trouble listening to "Smooth" for the frustrating memories of that night it stirs.

I suppose by this point you're thinking, "Well, that's all well-and-good, but I don't see how any of that makes this 'the Big One.'" Patience, though; you'll understand shortly.

During the second semester that year, I took a fiction writing class. One of our assignments in the class was to write a monologue. In response, I produced "Confession of a Thing," which technically wasn't a work of fiction, but actually more of a... well, I guess you could call it a love letter, really. After getting my grade on it, I decided to go ahead and present the monologue to its addressee. Not so unusual, really; I'd presented Becky and Kristen with my previous writings for the class, and they seemed to enjoy reading my work. So, I went down to their room, handed the monologue to Becky, told them to let me know what they thought, and took my leave. A short while later, Becky showed up at my door all choked up and saying how great it was. Shit! It misfired!

Augh! The roommate? You gave it to the ROOMMATE?! You stupid, stupid fool! What the hell is WRONG with you?! G'ah!

I guess I had assumed Becky knew about my infatuation with Kristen and would understand that it was intended for her. I guess that was a poor assumption to make. The irony of the whole situation is that, even before the love letter fiasco, I was closer to Becky than I ever was to Kristen. I suppose that was in part due to me having to distance myself from Kristen lest my feelings for her be exposed. I suppose it was also partly due to the fact that whenever I came around looking for someone to go to dinner with and Becky wasn't there, Kristen always seemed to have other plans. Right. Whatever. But things never went anywhere with Becky. She had always been more attracted to my first roommate, so even if we had hooked up, we'd both be with our second choice at best, so it's probably better that we didn't.

Anyway, that happened. But I wasn't done making a fool out of myself. No sir, not by a long shot.

Really, that was just one more frustrating incident on top of an ever-increasing pile of frustrating incidents. At some point near the end of the school year, that pile reached critical mass and collapsed. I broke. I decided to take action. I had to let her know. So I arranged to meet with her on ICQ, and I poured my heart out. I told her I was attracted to her the first time I saw her, I'd been attracted to her all that time, and I needed to know if there was any possibility that we would ever go out. Yes or no, I needed a definitive answer.

I will never forget her response.

"Not right now."

Not
Right
Now

Hmm... can't get much less definitive than that, can you? Apparently she was involved with someone else at the time.

Hold on... that sounds familiar... ah, yes. CRUSHING DISAPPOINTMENT, I remember you well.

Well, that was about a month or so before the end of the school year, so I did see Kristen again a couple of times before the summer, but she seemed content to act like the whole thing never happened. Hmm... maybe that's why she said she was glad I'd done my little spiel over ICQ instead of in person. Easier to pretend it never happened that way.

Whatever. Once again, the school year came and went, and things never got any further than that.

Now, that may seem like a perfectly good place for this story to end. But for some unfathomable reason, there is, in fact, more.

I went home for the summer, and my computer went into mothballs, which meant I had no access to ICQ. Since I never got any contact info from Becky or Kristen, I wasn't able to get in touch with either of them until school started up again. Once I got back on ICQ, I tried to arrange a meeting with Kristen, but she basically blew me off. She said she had mono or something and wouldn't be able to do anything for a couple weeks. I guess that's a valid excuse, but at the same time, "a couple weeks" is just about the perfect amount of time for us both to forget about contacting the other. Which, apparently, is exactly what happened. Oh well.

Then when my birthday came around in April, completely out of the blue she sends me a happy birthday message. That's all it was, just "Happy birthday" in an instant message. Well, okay, that's easy enough to figure out: ICQ's set up to send out reminders to everyone on my birthday, so she just never got around to taking me off her friends list, and sent a generic response to the birthday reminder she got. Fine, whatever.

Not quite a year later, just before the Chr--sorry, Winter Break, once again, right out of the ever-loving blue, I get a message from Kristen. Just kind of a "hey, how you doing" sort of thing, and I play along, and we have a nice little chat. And at the end of it, she gives me her cell phone number, tells me to give her a call over break "if I feel like it." I mull it over for a while, and finally come to the conclusion that yes, I do indeed feel like it. So I call her over break, and we had a nice chat, pretty much the same one we'd already had on ICQ. Then I don't hear from her again for like another month. She tells me she'd been in and out of the hospital for a while, so I guess it's forgivable. We chat a couple more times on ICQ, and she tells me she bought this "Illuminati" card game, because she remembered how I used to go on about the Illuminati. Well, I take that as an opening, so I get my cards from home and let her know I'm up for a game whenever she likes. And can you guess what happened then? That's right.

Absolutely nothing. Never heard from her again.

I suppose it's probably a good thing I switched over to AIM not long after, otherwise she might still be stringing me along. Then again, for all I know she might have wound up back in the hospital and I'm the callous one for thinking she was just being malicious. Whatever. That's where the story ends. For real, this time.

So now we come to the part of the post where we try to determine what we've learned today. Well, I'll tell you what I took away from it all, and unfortunately, it's not really anything new:

1) NEVER EVER TELL ANYONE HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT THEM EVER. EVER!!!

Tonight I shall bid you a warm sandwich of you between cool sheets.

The Incredible Shrinking David and the Enormous Women from Outer Space, Episode III

2005-12-09T17:18:00.000-06:00

Forgive me if tonight's post is perfunctory and not very entertaining. It's Friday evening, and I'd like to spend the bulk of it playing Dragon Quest 8. Besides which, now that I think about it, I don't seem to remember much in the way of catastrophic feminine encounters between fourth grade and high school. I'm sure I had my fair share of unrequited infatuations during that time, but apparently none of them had enough psychological impact to be memorable.

A few incidents from high school do stick out in my memory, perhaps only because the experiences are more recent. I'd like to share two such incidents with you, the two I think are the most interesting.

First off, there was Lisa. This was during my sophomore year. I remember Lisa for several reasons, certainly not the least of which was her physique. Lisa was... I don't know how else to say it; she was a big girl. I don't mean that she was fat, I mean she was tall, and not muscular, not plump, but that perfect center between the two. Think Sally from "Third Rock from the Sun." The point is, I found her very attractive. And by some stupid fluke of fate, I wound up seated right next to her in my literature class for an entire semester. Now, some might think this would be a dream come true. But consider the two most memorable experiences I'd had with women at that point, and I think you can understand why it would seem more like a nightmare to me. Nevertheless, over the course of the semester I managed to develop a rather amicable relationship with Lisa, and there were a couple times where... this is what she would do: She would kiss her fingers, and then ever-so-gently she would touch my arm with the fingers she had just kissed.

This only happened maybe three or four times, but God help me, if I could only have figured out what I did to inspire that action, well, I'm sure I'd be in a much better spot now than I am. As it was, the semester came and went and things never got any further than that.

I did see her again one time. I ran into Lisa in the hallway while she was helping a friend out with a photography project or something and Lisa asked me to pose with her for a picture. I don't know whatever happened to the photograph that was taken, but if you could find it what you would see on my face is absolutely the most genuine smile I have ever produced in front of a camera.

So that's my story of Lisa. Next we shall hear of an even stranger case.

Namely, we shall hear the case of Nikki. Nikki struck me as the sort of girl who didn't care much about grades or school, the sort of girl who really only cared about having as much fun as she could manage. Or maybe it was just that the way she talked made it sound like she was drunk in class half the time. In any case, she was the sort of girl who it wouldn't make any sense at all to have any interest in me whatsoever.

And yet, that was the impression I got.

It was just little things, for the most part. She just seemed to pay a little more attention to me that most girls, laugh a little too hard at my jokes, that sort of thing. And yet, on more than one occasion she made very clear mention of her boyfriend and how they would inevitably marry. I say "inevitably" because the way she spoke of this made it sound more like a prison sentence than a joyous union. Still, I've always been very proprietary when it comes to relatioships, so the mention of a boyfriend was enough for me to dismiss any notion that she might be at all interested in me.

Except for this one incident. If not for this one incident I probably wouldn't remember Nikki at all. I believe it was... no, it WAS the day before Spring Break. Also known as "Senior Skip Day." I was a junior at the time and most of the rest of the class were seniors, so the class was pretty empty, despite the fact that we were supposed to give presentations that day. Surprisingly--considering that Nikki had probably been taking advantage of Senior Skip Day since before she even entered high school--Nikki (a senior) was one of the few people in attendance. Well, considering the low attendance, the atmosphere in the classroom was pretty casual, so I felt no discomfort about sitting on a desk--"on" as opposed to "in" the desk, as they are meant to be used--to listen to one of the other groups' presentations. This is where it starts to get weird. Nikki comes over and sits right next to me on the very same desk. Now, I'm talking about a high school desk, here: basically a chair with a board across the seat for you to write on. And we're both sitting on the board part. Now, I've never been much for physical contact; anyone who knows me can tell you I don't like to hug, or sit on the same couch, or accidentally brush up against other people. So naturally, I scoot over a bit to make room for Nikki. In response, Nikki grabs my shirt, pulls me back over, and makes some comment to the effect of "You don't need to go anywhere."

Wow. Awkward.

So I spent the rest of the period not quite sure what to make of the situation, followed by an excruciating Spring Break wondering what the Hell it was all about. But, again, the semester came and went and things never got any further than that.

Well, it's almost 8:00 now and I STILL haven't played any DQ8, so I'd better wrap this up now. So, what have we learned today?

1) Women do strange, inexplicable things.

2) A semester is never enough time to figure out why they do these things.

That's it for me. For you, I bid warm sandwiches and cool sheets.

David vs. Women, Episode II

2005-12-08T14:22:00.000-06:00

Today has been pretty good so far. I worked for like 3 hours this morning, went to the company's holiday luncheon, and got the rest of the day off. Plus, it gave me an excuse to wear a sport coat, which always makes me feel powerful, important, and good-looking. This, of course, is the exact opposite of how talking about my experience with women makes me feel. So now I find myself in the midst of a dilemma.

Do I ruin the fine mood I'm in and continue relating my misadventures with the fairer sex, or do I break continuity with my previous post for the sake of my own mental health?

This leads me to further question the whole point of this exercise. Why, exactly, would I want this information to be publicly accessible in the first place? What drives me to chronicle the most embarassing aspect of my life and put myself in a right-nasty funk as I do so? What makes me think anyone else might be the least bit interested in reading about it, anyway?

I don't know the answers to these questions, but I do know that I'm not wearing my sport coat anymore, so I'm sure to be in a rotten mood by the end of the evening anyway. Which means more melancholy reflection and self-loathing diatribe for everyone! Hooray!

When we left off, a young David had just been rejected quite hard in the family jewels by the first girl he ever "liked." About a month into the very next school year, however, my family moved and I wound up attending a different school. As such, everything that had happened the year before became basically irrelevant to my social standing. I was still a nerd, of course, but a nerd armed with the knowledge that letting a girl know that you like her is a simply bad idea.

Oddly enough, however, my Great Failure in fourth grade was something quite different from my Great Failure of the year before. Actually, I failed in two ways that year, but I'll cover them both in a bit.

First, I'd like to tell you a little bit about my organizational skills at the time, specifically, the intricate manner in which I maintained the contents of my desk. My technique for organizing my desk throughout elementary school was as follows:

1) Pile up every piece of paper I received inside the desk until it no longer closes all the way.

2) Only clean the desk out when the teacher makes you because it no longer closes all the way.

To illustrate the effectiveness of this strategy, I will tell you that at one point during my primary education I actually discovered a quite rotten egg in my desk when cleaning it. Honest to God, a rotten egg.

So this was the state of things when, not long after starting at this new school, the girl sitting in front of me tucked a note into my desk. She made some comment so that I'd be sure to notice the note being dropped, but for whatever reason, I decided to ignore it at the time. This, of course, meant that I did not see the note again for months, when I was finally forced to tidy things up a bit. I finished emptying my desk shortly before lunch, and decided to give it a read after everyone had already left the classroom. The note was folded several times, and unfolding it once revealed the words "To David, From Jodi," surrounded by little hearts. That was as far as I got before a friend came back and urged me to hurry up to the lunchroom. I dropped the note on the floor, ate, and upon returning to the classroom, promptly dropped the note into the wastebin.

I know. I know.

I don't really understand what made me think that was the appropriate thing to do, but there you have it. Consider, though, that the note was already months old by that point; for all I know she'd already gotten over me by then anyway. Hell, considering that Jodi wasn't even the one who dropped the note in my desk, I don't really even know if she's the one who actually wrote the note in the first place.

This was the first of my great failures that year, though not the worse. No; the worse mistake was telling my parents.

For eight years after that--all through high school, even--I could not talk to, look at, approach, think about this girl or even hear the name "Jodi" without going beet red in the face. And my parents NEVER failed to take advantage of that. "Joooodiiiii," my father would croon, and then they would point, and laugh, and say "Ha ha, look at his face turn red!" I so resented it. I still do.

Well, I think that's a good spot to wrap up this episode. Now, what did we learn today? Two things:

1) Always open and respond to your mail in a timely fashion.

2) Never, ever let your parents know how you feel about anyone. Ever.

Until next time, I bid you warm sandwiches, and cool sheets.

David's History with Women, Episode I

2005-12-07T18:34:00.000-06:00

Welcome back. As promised, today I shall provide for you a graphic description of my various encounters with the opposite sex over the past 15 years or so. But first, I'd like to establish a convention for this blog.

First and foremost, I want D.Levine Industries to be a place of learning--for you, for me, for everyone. After all, what good is it to stockpile ridiculous amounts of trivial information if we cannot glean at least some wisdom from it? To that end, at the conclusion of each post, I'd like to reflect back on my inane ramblings and petty whining for the day and try to determine what truth may have been revealed therein. Since I didn't get to do this for my first post, I'd like to take some space here to go back over it.

So, what did we learn from "The World is a Safe Place?" I believe there are two very important lessons to be found in this modern parable:

1) Reality can never live up to the expectations of the imagination.

2) Trying to help others leads only to embarassment.

Not exactly spiritually uplifting, I suppose, but very important lessons, nonetheless.

Okay, enough of this sentimental crap, let's get on to the hardcore stuff!

I've decided to begin telling this history from when I was in third grade. I suppose this somewhat diminishes the completeness of this chronicle, since certainly I have memories of females before this period. It was in third grade, however, when a particular series of events... how shall I say... set the tone, for basically every intergender relationship I've had since.

Her name was Katie, as I recall. She had brown hair and olive skin. At some point during the school year, I came to the conclusion that I liked this girl, which is to say, I found her attractive. This was significant, because it was the first time in my memory that I was willing to admit to myself that I thought a girl was pretty. After taking this momentous step in my emotional development, I decided to take things another step forward and let her know that I liked her. I was, at that point, still too shy to tell her myself, but a friend offered to tell her for me, and I consented.

Katie's reaction to this information was... perhaps "revulsion" is a bit too strong a word.

Perhaps not.

Hold on... do you hear that? I do believe it's the sound of CRUSHING DISAPPOINTMENT. And if I'm not mistaken, it is the chord which has been the unifying theme of every experience I've had with women since.

Remember, now, this was in the third grade--the age at which "girl germs" were the most terrifying threat imaginable, and the worst fate one could endure was having one's name included in the song "So-and-so and the-other-one, sitting in a tree..." So, not only was I faced with the disappointment of liking a girl who wanted nothing to do with me, but that information was OUT THERE, for anyone to know and use against me. I don't specifically remember if anyone ever actually made fun of me for it, but it was an embarassment, nonetheless.

Suffice it to say, things never went anywhere with Katie. In fact, she even punched me in the groin once. For no better reason than the fact that I was sitting on my desk with my legs spread, kicking them out and making weird noises. I guess I can't really blame her for it; it must have seemed like such an easy target, and I'm sure the sight of me was more than a little offensive. But still.

So that's the story of Me and Katie. I was hoping to include a little more in this episode, but I think I've gone on long enough for now. I know, I know; you were expecting some hardcore pr0n. Patience, patience: it only gets better from here.

Before I wrap this up, though, let's consider what we've learned today. The single most valuable lesson in tonight's story is quite obvious:

1) Never, ever let anyone know how you feel about them. Ever.

If only I'd remembered that when... no, no; we'll get to that part. In the meantime, sandwiches and cool sheets.

The World is a Safe Place

2005-12-06T22:32:00.000-06:00

Welcome, one and all, to the grand opening of D.Levine Industries. If you've come here looking to make a purchse, you're SoL, because this is a blog, not a business website. That said, let's clear up a few things before we get started.

Firstly, the reason I have decided to start this blog is because Chris said I should. I had thought about starting a blog when I found out about his blog, but decided against it, since I would only have been copying him. He told me, however, that he himself was just copying his brother, so now I don't feel so bad about it.

Secondly, a little bit about myself, for those of you who don't know, or for those who do, but always wanted to see it in print. My name is David, I live in a suburb of Minneapolis with my three darling children: Playstation, XBox, and L'il Compy. I am what many would call a "shut-in," as evidenced by the fact that I refer to my various electronic entertainment systems as children. The rest I'm sure you can figure out on your own.

Okay, now that the setup is out of the way, let's get down to the actual content.

Today, I'd like to tell you a story. It's a true story, one that occurred just yesterday, in fact. The reason I'd like to tell you this particular story is because it is a fine illustration of why I have chosen the shut-in lifestyle. Though I, myself, am a shut-in, I know a number of people who are not. These people often encourage me to "get out more," "be more social," and that sort of thing. My usual response to these suggestions is a noncommital shrug and a glazed look which (accurately) suggests that I'd rather be at home alone than listening to this nonsense. Today, however, I have a more substantial response. And it goes like this:

I was at the bank yesterday to cash a check. When I walked into the bank I saw a young woman at the counter where one fills out deposit slips and such. She was just finishing up and moved away to get in line for the cashier. I noticed, however, that she left a pair of gloves at the counter. Now, being the considerate sort of fellow that I am, I feel inclined to bring this to her attention, but the line quickly filled up behind her, and I had my own deposit slip to fill out. So, I let it go for the time being and proceeded to complete all the necessary paperwork for my desired transaction. Still, though, I hate to imagine that this young woman would step back out into the cold with unprotected hands when I could have done something about it. Plus, it was an opportunity to try out some of that advice from all those non-shut-in types. So, before getting in line for the cashier myself, I pick up the gloves and take them over to the young woman. In my imagination, the conversation goes something like this:

David: "Excuse me, did you leave these gloves over at the counter?"
Young Woman: "Oh, yes, I did. I hadn't even noticed, thank you! You're so considerate. And handsome. Here's my phone number."

And they lived happily ever after.

Now let's see the same scene again, only this time set in the REAL world:

David: "Excuse me, did you leave these gloves over at the counter."
Young Woman: "Nope. Thanks, though."
David: "Oh. Okay."

At which point I put the gloves back on the counter, got in line for the cashier, and never saw the young woman again.

Yet people wonder why I don't get out more.

Next time: My complete and unabridged sexual history! Saucy!