The Different Things to Me Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

-2-          Elephants Aren’t Players… They Just Crush A Lot

-3-          Jump For Your Love

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-1-

What up, elves and ogres?  *Grunt*  Sorry, had a conversation about Lord of the Rings earlier today and we compared some of our friends to the characters in the movie.  Try doing it with your friends, it can be pretty funny.  Just don’t tell your girlfriend she’s Smeagol.

Ahhh, girls.  A coworker today asked me what I would write about if I didn’t have these relationship (or lack thereof) issues.  It reminded me just how powerful love and love-type stuff can be.  To be honest, I think that’s what pulled me from my posting lull.  Love and attraction just stir up so many emotions, that you almost don’t know what to do with yourself half the time.  Love can move your pen to write volumes.  It sucks.

With so many unfamiliar occurrences in my life at the moment, it’s been difficult trying to get my bearings.  I think it’s time for a laugh.  I’d like to laugh, how about you?  Well, go on now.  Say something funny.  Go on…  I have to say, I sometimes feel like a little monkey.  That sounds weird, but I don’t know how else to describe it.  I feel like a little monkey with red overall shorts and those little hats, with a weird little monkey smile with big ol’ monkey teeth.  People will randomly ask me to say or do something funny and then I get all funky monkey.  Like, give me something to work with here.  Should I do a little jig?  Should I jump up on a table and start riverdancing?  Should I recite a Xanga post by heart?  Do I go into a stand-up routine?  Give a dog a bone, people.  I’m like that Pyro guy from the X-men movie/comic.  I need something to start off with, a little spark, then I’ll make fire.

My present spark?  Life in general is spark enough.  I think a poo story or Smurf story or a wacky animal story is in order. 

Be easy.

—

Happy birthday to my sis!  Love ya lots!

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-2-

So apparently I’m not the only one trying to get in shape and lose (or redistribute) a few pounds.  A zoo in Alaska is building the very first elephant treadmill.  The zoo is having discussions with engineers and manufacturers regarding the design and construction of the thing.  Sounds like an expensive project.  I think I’ll submit a cost-effective proposal:

Ok, fine, let’s say they do build this treadmill.  Tell me how you’re going to convince the elephant to use it.  Put a girl elephant in a bikini in front of it?

Now, maybe things were different in my day, but weren’t elephants always big and fat?  Why are you gonna make him work out?  That’s like telling a porcupine to get some hair gel.  That’s like suggesting a kangaroo get one of those baby backpacks.  That’s like telling a turtle he should buy a trailer home.  That’s like telling a rhino he should get a nose job.  That’s like telling a bald eagle he should join Hair Club for Men.  That’s like telling a penguin he should put on some sweatpants and loosen his tie.  That’s like telling a bird he should take the bus wherever he’s going.  That’s like telling a racoon he should put cucumber slices on his eyes.  That’s like telling a giraffe that he should try wearing turtleneck sweaters.  That’s like telling a bat he should get Lasik surgery. 

Let him be.  He probably didn’t even think anything was wrong.  Let him be the way he was meant to be.  I’m sure he’s happier that way. 

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-3-

A buddy and I driving at night.  It’s quiet.

“…Girls… I hate girls, man.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Girls are my weakness.”

“They’re every man’s weakness.”

As much as girls can be the great motivator for men, they can just as easily be the downfall of a man.  When it comes to women, logic and reason cease to exist for both the guy and the girl.  A man will put everything on the line for a woman: family, wealth, health, job, freedom, friends, respect, the remote control…

A guy racked up a $24,000 credit card bill at a strip club in New York.  Try explaining that to your wife.  He’s suing the strip club.  I say he sue the organization known as Women.  I mean, come on, taking adavantage of a poor guy like that.  That’s like getting a woman drunk, taking her to a warehouse full of designer handbags, and then accepting her credit card.  You know it just ain’t right.

A man has got to be a man, people… except when a woman is involved.  Then a man will be whatever the woman wants him to be.  Men will do all sorts of ridiculous acts when a woman is involved.  Women should open up a circus and just have a bunch of men performing stupid man tricks: putting down the toilet seat, using coasters, arranging throw pillows, telling the boys poker night is over early because the missus wants him to mow the lawn in the morning, reciting multiple names for the same color, thinking of alternative ways of describing how they did nothing today (making stuff up), writing poetry for special occassions, smiling awkwardly when that special chick catches his eyes, attempting humiliating, destined-to-fail pick-up lines…

Ladies, all I’m saying is you have great power.  Probably more power than you ever imagined.  Use it wisely.  For with great power, comes great responsibility.  You claim that men run the world.  Truth be told, the only reason men seek power is to impress women.  Even the most powerful men go home to their wives and say, “Yes, dear” when it’s time to wash the dishes or take out the garbage.

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

The Matters of the Heart Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

-2-          My First

-3-          Terminally Illin’

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-1-

What up, earbuds and headphones?  So much to say, so much to do.  Where do I begin?  Even further, should I begin at all?  Life is structured and organized by rules.  There are all these rules, principles, laws, tenets, guidelines, etc. and oftentimes they all conflict with one another.  Take for instance communication.  We know that communication is key and honesty is the best policy, but sometimes we have to bite our tongue or twist the truth.  Reminds me of vowels – we’ve got A,E,I,O,U and sometimes Y.  Sometimes Y?!?  Sometimes?  Even letters of the alphabet are schizophrenic.  Life is governed by policy, but there are always policy exceptions.

Back to the point, when should we communicate how we feel and what we are thinking and when would it be best not to?  Of course, there are obvious situations when we should refrain from saying anything, such as telling girls they are fat or old, or your boss that you hate your job and him and how his socks don’t match his outfit, or that old people smell like Ben Gay, hot dogs, and cinnamon spice. 

I discovered that despite the fact that we are able to exercise self-restraint by repeatedly applying incisor pressure upon the tongue area, it is our eyes that betray us.  You can tell so much by a person’s eyes, and because my eyes rat me out like Chunk from the Goonies when he had his hand in the blender, I try to avoid lying at all costs.  Besides, lying just makes me feel blah – like my insides are all dirty bath water.  So please, don’t ask me anything point blank that might put me in an awkward position.  The truth always comes out.

However, since we know the truth shouldn’t always come out, I think I’ll just chomp my tongue like it’s bubble gum, keep my head down and eyes to the ground.  Some things are better left unsaid and I’ll gladly carry a small burden on my back as opposed to launching it from a catapult onto others.

Promise, I’ll be back today for the articles. 😉

—

Welps, I’m back because a promise is a promise.  I should rename this issue the “Off” issue, because that’s how I feel today.  It’s all good, I always feel better after a post.  Keep it real, folks and…

Be easy.

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-2-

I remember the first time I saw her.  It was a warm and sunny morning… or maybe it wasn’t.  Maybe because of her, that’s how I remember it.  Seeing her for the first time is the kind of thing that makes you forget the small details.  It’s the kind of thing that makes everything else, small details.  It’s the kind of thing that makes you forget to breathe.

Initially, I didn’t really have many opportunities to spend time with her.  But gradually, we got to spend more and more time together, got to know each other, and before you knew it, we were together all the time.  We became inseparable, partners in crime, the dynamic duo, off on the adventures of life together, off to write history together.

Not surprisingly we had our share of problems along the way.  Many who knew her, knew her to be somewhat complicated beneath the beautiful exterior and a lot of things about her just didn’t make sense.  Not to say that I didn’t have my faults, either.  Much of what I went through at the time was very new to me, unchartered territory and I made a lot of mistakes.  I suppose I just didn’t know how to take care of what I had or fully appreciate it.

Over time things began to deteriorate.  Small problems became big problems.  Few problems were fixed, some were just patched up or bandaged carelessly, others ignored or swept under the rug.  It was merely a matter of time.

Yet, we had been through so much together, had a history together that forever would be imprinted on our lives.  It is because of that, that we delayed the inevitable, put off that final goodbye which we knew had to come sooner or later.

And so the day finally came.  After much struggle, I finally came to the decision that it would be for the best, and that it was the right thing to do.  There would not be, could not be any turning back.  With a heart full of fond, as well as painful memories, I looked back for one last glance at the faded image of what had once been the most wondrous and beautiful thing to ever come into my life.

I drove out of the dealership in my new car and left my old one behind.  I had promised myself that if ever I had the chance to start over, I’d do it right, put everything I had into it and more.  And so I drove away with dreams of a bright future, knowing that I was leaving behind more than an old clunker.  I left behind a piece of history, a scrapbook of my childhood… a piece of me.

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-3-

To my dismay, that was my lunch recently.  A tiny 3 oz. can of tuna, a few crackers, a packet of mayo, a packet of relish, and a little wooden stick (yes, I ate the wooden stick).  Reminded me of Tom Hanks in the Terminal, living off crackers and ketchup and mustard packets.  Poor guy.  So why would I willingly subject myself to such torture?  Well… I’m on a diet.

Fair enough right?  Good enough answer, yes?

You’ve got to probe, my friends.  There’s always something beneath the surface.  So on a diet, eh?  Want to get in shape?  Eat and live healthier?  Or is it… because of a chick?

Here’s a secret – if you ever catch a guy on some kind of self-improvement kick, chances are the motivation is a girl.  Do you think that if girls didn’t mind dating disgusting, unhealthy slobs, we’d still be hitting the gym? 

It could be a girl whose heart we’ve just got to capture, or it could be a girl who broke our heart who we’ve just got to show what they’re missing out on, but the point is there’s no better motivation than girls.  If guys got paid in chicks every two weeks instead of cash, I think productivity at the office would hit unheard of highs.

How wonderful that girls make we, the unambitious, uninitiated ogres strive to be better people.  Well, ladies don’t start patting yourselves on the back yet for making the world a better place.  As we’ll see in next week’s installment, sometimes things can get out of hand.  And that’s when we can see how women can be the downfall of men.

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

Monday, January 24, 2005 (original run)

The Just Kidding Issue – UPDATED!

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

-2-          It’s Saturday Morning, Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

-3-          Kidbits

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-1-

What up, all you Care Bears and um… just plain bears?  This issue’s theme is kids.  I like kids.  They crack me up.  I’m sure I’ve touched on this one before, but if I could go back to being a kid, I think I most likely would.  No, scratch that I’m certain I would.  I was hung up for a bit on the money issue (apparently kids don’t really make any money, lazy people these kids are I tell ya… “Let me get this straight, you’ve been on this planet for 10 years and you still don’t have a job?  Oh, quit your crying and get a job, ya bum.”)  Kids don’t need money because they’ve got imagination.  Everything is a toy and any situation can be fun with imagination.  If you’ve ever seen Muppet Babies, you know what I’m talking about.   

When you’re a kid, everything is forever, which I suppose can be a good and a bad thing.  I’m certain the good (the pressures and anxieties of life’s clock ticking down are powerless over children) outweigh the bad (“Are we there yet?”)  Life, love, friendship (BFF!), everything is forever when you’re a kid.

The innocence of children is a beautiful thing.  There’s nothing like seeing a baby smile.  You know that there’s nothing behind it, other than pure and true happiness.  No hidden motives or agendas, no patronizing, no expectations… just happiness.  If only we could all smile like that.

Smile and be happy.  I’ll be back later.

—

Back for the articles.  Enjoy!

Be easy.

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-2-

There are no children left in the world.  There are only babies, adults and little people.  Nowadays, little people literally have the world at their fingertips, with access to infinite amounts of information just a mouse-click away.  In many places, little people are more likely to be found surfing the web or chatting with people around the globe, than doing traditional children’s activities such as rolling a hoop down a dirt road with a stick, hitting a ball tied to a pole, licking frogs, holding poker night, or competing in the Ultimate Fighting Championship.

Now back in my day entire Saturday mornings and a good part of the afternoon were dedicated to cartoons.  Children of all ages would wake on Saturday mornings the same time they would on a school day, maybe even earlier (sometimes you had to, to catch the good shows), go to the kitchen to fix a huge bowl of cereal (which had to last you through at least 2-3 cartoons) and plop down in the living room in front of the tv.  Every major network aired cartoons and it’s likely that watching cartoons was a child’s first exercise in multi-tasking: cartoon – commercial – click, next channel – commercial – click back to first cartoon – commercial – click, next channel, commercial – click, next, next channel – etc. (all the while maintaining a firm grasp on the storyline of each cartoon). 

This was our time.  Adults coveting their precious sleep were not to be found on these mornings.  It was just you, maybe some siblings, a bowl of sugar and Spiderman and His Amazing Friends, Shaggy, Scooby, Alvin, Simon, Theodore, Voltron, He-Man, She-Ra, Jem (Truly outrageous!  Truly!), Silverhawks, Go-Bots, Fraggles, Pound Puppies, Your Little Pony (Not my little pony, I’ll be danged if I had one), Robotech, Shirt-Tales, Thundercats, Smurfs, and Snorkels. 

Now, there’s nothing wrong with kids e-mailing, chatting, and surfing.  Actually, it can probably be much more beneficial than watching the boob tube.  I suppose what I’m getting at is, did the internet kill the Muppet Babies and put the Fraggles in the unemployment line?  Well, I promise there’s always room at my crib if they ever need a place to crash for a bit.  Maybe GI Joe should do an E! True Hollywood Story.

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-3-

Kids keep it real.  They’re honest.  I think it’s only fair we reciprocate.

Kid: I’m 5 years old.

Me: You smell like Cheetos.

Kid: I’m 5 years old.

Me: You sound like a fob.

—

Kid approaches group: My sister is evil.

Me: Let it go.  Let it go, man.

*Hug*

—

Me carrying baby with bedhead and sleepy, squinty eyes: You smell like goooooood mooorrning!

—

Little girl sits down at table, playing with some paper.

Me: We never talk anymore.  How are you?

Little girl ignoring me, continuing to play.

Me: What’s wrong?  Tell me.  We can work it out.

Little girl continues to ignore me.

Me: Is there someone else?  Is it me?  I can change, I promise.  Let’s go to Fiji, you’ve always loved Fiji.

Little girl gets up and begins to walk away.

Me: Don’t you… don’t you walk out on me.  We can fix this.  We can make this work.  Just talk to me… please!

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

The Love is For the Birds Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

-2-          I Want To Be Loved By You

-3-          Dream Lover

-4-          Super Friends

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-1-

Hello, Bishops and Bishettes.  I couldn’t stand it any longer.  I wanted to wait until later this evening to update, but work ain’t fo’ sheezy so I need an outlet.  The wackness is so pervasive that I signed up for a 2 week pass to Bally’s so I can release my frustration in a productive, positive manner.  And Bally’s ain’t fo’ sheezy either, but I’m desperate right now.  The free weights at Bally’s are all beat up like they’ve been sitting in your uncle’s garage since his high school football days, and the guys there look like they’re from prison… the weight room itself looks like a prison.  A friend commented this weekend about the Chippendale’s calendar my brother and I have hanging in our bathroom (I think maanster gave it to my sis as a gag gift).  At first I was somewhat bothered by the fact that this half-naked man was making sexy faces at me every time I used the bathroom.  However, after exiting the shower several times and seeing his body, and then seeing what has become of mine (and even the dripping water and steamy ambience couldn’t improve my situation), I decided to do something.  So I’m going to hang out at the Bally’s prison for the next couple of weeks.  To you Mr. Chippy – watch your back, because in two weeks when I exit the steamy shower, diesel like Mack trucks, I’m gonna bust through that wall you smugly hang from like Kool-Aid man, oh yeah!

I’ll be back later tonight for the articles.  I know that’s what you read this for… the articles… not the sexy pictures.

—

Well, here I am back for the articles.  The titles sound like a teenage girl’s Winamp playlist, I have to note… but hey, it is what it is.

Be easy.

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-2-

There’s a strange phenomenon that I’ve observed on more than one occasion regarding our attraction to others.  Have you ever started liking someone because you discovered that they liked you?  One of those, “Well, I never looked at her/him that way, but… she/he is really nice… Maybe…”  Wow, talk about easily persuaded.  You’ve never considered her/him up until this point and now she/he’s a maybe?  As in, “Maybe I’ll go out with her/him?”  What is up with that?  What is up with you?  I think I want to sell you something.  Salespeople start drooling and get those big ol’ crazy eyes when they meet people who are that easily persuaded. 

“Here, here, just hold that vacuum in your hand.  Oh, you were made for each other.”

“We were?…  I’ll take it!”

or

“Go ahead why don’t you sit in the driver’s seat.  Oh, you two look perfect together!”

“We do?… I’ll take it!”

So what is the reason for such a peculiar response to unsolicited adoration?  I think we all just want to be loved.  We just long for that affection.  We will entertain advances, maybe even encourage it just to get some attention.  I am Gameboy DS, I am a Chrysler 300, I am a picture of Lindsey Lohan in a bikini… I am in demand.

Players, play on.  Played out, keep on getting played.  We permit it to occur.  Consciously, subconsciously we comprehend that it isn’t right.  We know how it will all play out in the end, yet we allow it to continue, like so many other things that we do that we know aren’t good for us.  But that momentary, fleeting feeling of happiness, even just a sliver of it – we do it for that feeling.  It’s a shame when we compromise so much to temporarily feel better about ourselves.  Why do we feel so bad in the first place?  It’s not like we just got sold vacuums we didn’t need.

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-3-

Love has got to be the most incomprehensible emotion we possess.  Ever dream about someone and start liking them because you dreamt about them?  Now I’m not talking about Jennifer Love Hewitt/Orlando Bloom or the hot chick/dood from Psych class.  I’m talking about a chick/dood that you may know or may not even know, but whom you’ve never looked at in that light.  Perhaps in the dream, you shared an experience, had the opportunity to get to know each other better, maybe you got trapped in an elevator together, maybe she/he did something you never expected from them, some act of kindness – something bonded you… and you clicked… in dreamland…

Then you wake up all, “What was that all about?  Her/him?  …  I wonder if she/he dreamt about me too…” 

There’s a girl at work who quite frankly, I’m rather indifferent about.  Actually, there are these 1 or 2 things about her that irk me somewhat.  It’s the idiosyncratic equivalent of scratching nails on a chalkboard.  Well, I had one of those dreams about her the other night.  She passes by me this morning, smiles, and says hi and I’m all *sweet voice, bright, sparkling, smitten eyes*, “Good morning!”  No worries, it wore off by afternoon… I think.

Sometimes I’ll have a gueststar chick in my dreams.  This is someone I don’t know in reality, and someone who may not even exist for all I know.  Perhaps they’re molded after someone I saw in a shopping mall or crossing a street.  These are the biggest disappointments because upon waking it’s, “Who are you?  Where are you?  Where are you, girl of my dreams?”

I think I need to get out more.

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-4-

After close to a year, I’m finally in the role that I was supposed to be in when I was first hired here.  Funny thing is, the primary cause for my job change is that one of my colleagues was making whoopie with one of our management.  Our CEO communicated to us during an unscheduled meeting that it indeed was a “conflict of interest” (who would have thought) and that our colleague would be seeking opportunities elsewhere.  I could go into more depth and drama, but the point is we had to make some hasty adjustments to our teams, which resulted in my shifting positions. 

So now what do I do, you ask?  Well… I’m a superhero.  Check it out:

—–Original Message—–
From: Andrea [mailto:]
Sent: Thursday, January 13, 2005 3:25 AM
To: James
Subject: AW: ANNOUCEMENT – New contact
done !

Dear James

I have send the annoucement letter to Mr. Novak on Monday.

Happy new year and lets be a super-Team.

Regards
Andrea

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

The Time and Place Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

-2-          Dunkin’ DoNot!

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-1-

Hello, Cheesecakes and Beefcakes.  Yuck, beefcake… can you imagine a cake made of beef?  How nasty is that?  “Here you go, little Jimmy.  Happy Birthday, son.  We got you this ice cream beefcake from Carvel.  MmmMmm.  And you can wash it down with a delicious beefshake.”  There was an episode of Friends, in which Rachel accidently put beef into a cake.  “It tastes like feet!”, Ross.

I’ll be back later on today.  I promise… and I never break a promise… never ^_^

—

The pressure is on… time’s a tickin’.  20 minutes… 19 minutes… 18 minutes… 17 minutes.  Good job, James – never break a promise, eh?  Well you’re in a bit of a pickle now, which as it turns out, is not so bad, because pickles are crunchy and delicious.  Ok, let’s go…

Be easy.

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-2-

Maybe I should have gone through the drive through.  I think unconsciously, employees will provide quicker service to patrons in cars because clearly they are in a rush, otherwise they would have taken the time to park and walk into the establishment.  <11 minutes>  Those doughnuts look hard.  Why is the hot chocolate so far from the coffee?  There’s a cute employee.  I wonder what she’s doing here.  It’s a shame, she looks like someone who’s recently immigrated here.  Such a shame that a pretty girl like her is serving donuts here in the ghetto.  She should be doing something else.

Are you serious?  Tell me, Jaems what exactly is she qualified to do based on your assessment of her hotness?  <8 minutes>  I know, I know, she should be studying at a university, working towards a doctoral degree.  No wait, wait, she should be lobbying in D.C. for social causes in third world countries.  <6 minutes>  Perhaps she’s just taking a break because weeks and weeks of camping at archaeological sites in 100 degree weather was beginning to take its toll on her beautifully vibrant and bouncy hair.

I sometimes (or maybe oftentimes) catch myself saying/thinking/doing stupid things.  But is it my fault or is it society’s fault?  I mean, let’s think about it.  ❤ minutes>  Let’s take note of some of the occupations that society deems not financially or professionally fulfilling.  When was the last time you saw a hot garbage man and wish he’d pick up your trash with no shirt on?  Have you ever gone for seconds of that Sloppy Joe in the school cafeteria because the lunch lady was just too hot?  Even further – ever take a homeless person into your home, because they were really beautiful?

Point is sometimes life isn’t as far off from television as we think.  Plastered all over TV are these beautiful people doing wonderful things and having the time of their life.  When was the last time you saw someone beautiful suffering or struggling and not because of their own doing? 

<overtime>  Wait a minute.  That wasn’t my point.  That doesn’t answer the question of why the hot girl is working at Dunkin’ Donuts.  Or rather, why it’s a shame that someone like her is working there.  Although it did strike me as odd that I never saw a hot homeless person (wasn’t Jewel homeless for a while?), that wasn’t what I set out to talk about.

Ok, the point is we have to think outside the box.  No, no – the point is sometimes we need to go against the grain.  No, not quite it either.  I think it’s about taking down the Man!  No – geez, why do I have to be all self-righteous and create these posts with morals, and lessons, and values…

I’ve got it.  She doesn’t belong in Dunkin’ Donuts because she should be modeling.  That’s right, we all need someone to look up to, someone to admire, someone to set unrealistically high standards that we’ll never achieve, primarily because of the cards that the genetic dealer has dealt us, and believe you me, in this particular situation, the house almost always wins (you’ve got to throw out a few crumbs here and there to keep ’em coming back though).  We need someone that we can vicariously live through because of the suppressive and oppressive social structure in which we exist and… wait a minute… whoa, whoa, whoa.  This is too heavy right now.

Ladies and gentlemidgets, I’d just like to say that chicks are hot and that’s one reason to smile when you wake in the morning and the warm rays of the sun stream through your kitchen window, spreading delicious buttery spread on your golden toast, as chirping bluebirds pour fresh milk onto your crispy cereal.  May your days be crispy and milky always.

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

The Can’t Leave Rap Alone Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

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-1-

Hello, Jello and Jello Jigglers.  Today, I quit Xanga.

Well, first things first.  Allow me to apologize for not visiting, propping, commenting, and what have you.  I understand how it works.  We, Xangans have a relationship, and like every relationship, there’s give and take.  Someone gives props and you take them… wait, that’s not right… like every relationship, there’s give and give… you give and give and they take you for granted and never give back… wait, that’s not right, either… there’s take and take?  No, that doesn’t sound right.  There’s give and get back?  You give and get back at someone for not giving back?

Well, whatever the case, I apologize because life has been a whirlwind lately.  I’ve been cheap with my posts and Xanga in general.  With so many significant and rapid changes in my life, I realized that something would probably have to give, and that it was probably going to be Xanga. 

But I can’t.  This is my thing.  I brought the old notebooks and headphones to the coffee shop today, and realized that I probably won’t give this thing up for a while.  I enjoy doing this and I realized that really, when I go over the words in my mind, when I scan the pages of my notebooks, as I type each letter into my laptop, I’m really writing and talking to myself.  Maybe I’m writing to my future self.  Maybe I’m sending an update to my old self, telling him how far I’ve come, what I’ve learned, what more I still have yet to learn.  So when a friend asked me this evening if I still was getting a lot of comments (which really only happened during the brief period I was in Spotlight) and I responded that I wasn’t, I realized that I was ok with that.  I am now writing for myself and my future little Jaemses, who will look back on my posts and ask, “Why, Daddy?  Why would you procreate?  Did Mom know about this Xanga thing when you were dating or did you just pretend to not be crazy until after you were married?”

So, Xanga, I guess what I’m saying is, “I do”… for better or for worse.

Be easy.

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-2-

*coming soon*

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

The Places I’ll Go Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

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-1-

2003 – I mustered up the courage to approach an open door having stood by the window for years before that.

2004 – I ventured through the door and out into the world.

2005 – I take over the world.

Big things in ’05, baby.

I’ll be back later on.

Be easy.

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

The Pieces Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

-2-          It’s News to Me 

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-1-

Happy what’s left of Monday, dukes and duchesses.  Ha, bet you thought I wasn’t going to post today.  Not much to say today… or perhaps too much?  I’m sure I’ll be back later this week, but here’s a little something for now.

Be easy.

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-2-

Way to go!  Let’s win the war on drugs… with more drugs.

Not to be preachy but… safe for who?

Personally, I think the cops are lying.  I mean who gets shot by a blind guy?  All you have to do is stay still and be quiet, unless he was wild’n out with a machine gun.

Who’s in charge of this program?  How’s he marketing this?  He’s got to be giving out more than a free t-shirt or water bottles.  Here’s a tip to the guys running this thing, make the world a better place and do something else.  Be a salesman, something tells me you’d be good at it.

Safer, but not quite safe, eh?  So I’m still going to die, but perhaps not as painfully… buuuuut I’m still going to die.  WTH is safer but not safe???

I love when they fund studies and reports to confirm what we already know.  The government secretive?  No way…

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

The Paper Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

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-1-

Merry Monday, all you Turkeys and Turkettes!  Having had the past week off from work, it’s going to be hard to come back… hard like trying to convince penguins that it’s ok to wear sweats and a hoodie once in a while.  At least I have enough turkey sandwiches to last me until the turkeys regroup, assess their losses and start a revolution.  A couple of friends from out of town paid me a visit this past week, which resulted in me making a couple of trips to the airport.  I have come to the conclusion that airports are strange places.

Airports have a very surreal environment and I sometimes feel as though I’m walking through a dream when I’m at the airport.  The lighting is always muted and the windows apparently consume some of the incoming light.  It’s rather dreary, as though there’s always a chance of rain in the airport.  Airports house an eclectic population of patrons that you’d be hard-pressed to find anywere else other than an Alice in Wonderland story, whether you’re in NY or some other, not as culturally diverse location.  Once I traveled to North or South Carolina for work and while there I encountered a lot of hee-haws, but once I was in the airport there weren’t as many hee-haws as I expected.  Many of these people in airports have this glazed-over look, not in a happy way like a Krispy Kreme, but in a I haven’t slept or showered for days because my boat crashed and I’m a prisoner of some cannibalistic tribe on a remote island and they want to put in me a big pot of hot water and my underwear is soggy and salty look.  They’re probably travel weary or jet-lagged, which brings me to another point.  Airports are like some kind of time warp.  Everything is so time dependent in airport, especially with all these new, stricter security measures. With time zones and such, it’s sometimes difficult to keep track of where or when you are.  Strange thing is, yes there are clocks on the arrival/departure boards, but other than that, there aren’t any clocks anywhere else.  You’d think that with these huge terminals where you sometimes need a monorail or at least a golf cart or the ability to ride your rolling duffel like a make-shift scooter, the place would be plastered with clocks.  The only place I saw an ample number clocks, including clocks for different time zones was at a bar.  Now I ask you, how useful is a clock in a bar?  By the time you check the clock, you’re probably too crunked to make any sense of it, especially with the different time zones, and at that point you probably don’t care anyway.

I think part of the reason I feel funny about airports is because of the association I have with them.  I usually associate airports with saying goodbye.  One of the most vivid memories I have of airports is the time my grandparents left for the Philippines.  They pretty much raised me and it was difficult parting with them.  On top of that I’ve said numerous goodbyes to friends and loved ones at the airport.  It’s odd, because I suppose you can look at aiports from opposing perspectives.  One is the end of a story or chapter, while the other is the beginning. Well not to ramble on too long about this, let me just quote Semisonic – “Every new beginning is some other beginning’s end.”

Be easy.

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-

The Moment of Clarity Issue

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In This Issue

 

-1-           Editorial

-2-          Extra!  Extra!  Read All About It!                     

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-1-

Hellooooo, nurse! … and male nurses.  I awoke this morning with renewed vigor and determination.   Even before getting out of bed I realized that life is about setting goals and pursuing them and prioritizing.  And so I arose from my bed, walked past a pile of clothes that needed to be ironed 2 weeks ago, past a pile of receipts that needed to be logged into my personal finance software, past two large bags of dry cleaning crying out in a British accent, “Please sir, please make us clean again”, past some thoughts that I should try to get to work early because I’m way behind, and straight to my laptop and into Xanga.

Check it out.  That’s my outfit today.  Now, that lovely little number is the result of 3 things:  1.  Dry cleaning and ironing really need to get done (well… who am I kidding?  Last I counted I had about 60 pairs of pants.  I can probably go a pretty long time without doing laundry);  B.  I’m feeling a little lazy about getting myself dressed today (I have a new rule to conserve time in the morning.  First thing I pull out of the closet, is what I’m wearing); and finally, D.  I’m partially color blind.  *Gasp*

It’s true and I’m not at all bitter or discouraged by my handicap.  Despite the fact that I often run red lights, am not very good at checkers (Dude, you just jumped 3 of your own pieces), have never seen a rainbow, don’t understand what that stupid Lucky Charms guy is talking about with his blue clovers and pink hearts, and was tormented as a child for never learning how to properly use a coloring book, I embrace my color blindness.  Why, you may ask?  Well, why is what I may tell you… er, and I will.

I’ve noticed that some girls have elicited a very unusual response to my revealing my inadequacy.  It makes them want to hold hands and start cuddling and stuff like that.  What in the H-E-double hockey sticks?  These suprising experiences have lead me to the conclusion that for some reason girls are drawn to men who exhibit some type of vulnerability.  It’s true that in my experiences, my revelation was usually prompted by a girl asking something like, “What are you some kind of color blind freak, who because of his lack of cones in the retina, is a socially inept moron with diminished physical prowess, who can’t score chicks?”  Yes… yes, I’m color blind.  “Oh my gosh.  Are you serious?”, with the same incredulity as though I had just told them that I built a time machine.  Yes, I’m color blind.  “Oh my goodness.  So what do you see then?  What does my red shirt look like to you?”  I can’t see red.  It’s invisible.  Nice hooters.  “I’m so sorry.  I… I didn’t know”, as though my goldfish had just been run over by a FedEx truck.  “I feel so bad.  Let’s cuddle and fall in love and stuff.”

So, gentlemen there you have it.  All you have to do is reveal some infirmity to a chick, you lost a toenail during a mean game of kickball, you’re really a robot, your buttcheeks were fused together due to a horrible swingset accident, you’re on a lifelong journey to see the wizard so he can give you a heart, you woke up once in a bathtub of ice with one of your kidneys missing… under the right circumstances, you’re in.

This editorial seemed so much more coherent when I was in the shower.  Oh well, I’ll be back later on for “Extra! Extra!” [edit fri 19.nov.2004: I’d update Extra! Extra! but my experience is that no one reads (at least my site) over the weekend, so I’ll just wait until the Monday update].  Have a good one [weekend!]

Be easy.

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You can send your “Ask Jaems” questions to jaemsmail@yahoo.com

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-New Issue Every Monday-